Campus Player
As we reach the tunnel where the locker rooms are located, a prickle of unease slithers down my spine. I have the strange sensation of being watched. As I glance up, my gaze sweeps over the stands until it fastens on pale blue eyes. My heartbeat stutters before pounding into overdrive. Even though my footsteps falter, I keep moving.
Brayden stays at my side. He continues to talk, but his voice doesn’t penetrate the thick haze that has descended.
My father is here...
At the stadium.
One side of Dad’s mouth hitches into a nasty smile. He knows I don’t want him anywhere near the university.
A potent mixture of rage and nerves rush through my veins. Hopelessness swiftly follows, overriding all other emotions trying to take root because I know deep-down he’ll never leave me alone. I’ll admit I’ve been having second thoughts about pushing Demi away, but seeing him here only reconfirms that I made the right decision. There is no way I could saddle her with my past. It’s like having a fucking anchor shackled around my neck. No matter how much I fight against the constriction, it’ll eventually drag me to the bottom of the ocean.
I don’t realize my feet have stopped moving until Brayden interrupts the frantic whirl of my thoughts.
“You coming or what?”
Dread pools inside my gut. “No, go on without me.” The fewer people that see us together, the better. I don’t know how to make it any clearer that he can’t keep popping up on campus like this. Not if he wants more money.
Brayden jerks his shoulders. “Okay, man. Catch you in a few.”
“Yup.” I blow out a steady breath as he takes off, thankfully disappearing inside the tunnel.
A couple of the other guys jog past. Once the turf has been emptied, I glare at my father who has made his way down to the field.
When I remain silent, he grins, opening his arms wide. “Mighty fine place you got here.” He glances around the stadium as if casing the joint. Like this is my personal space, and he’s trying to come up with a way to rob me blind.
I clench my hands at my sides in an effort to resist the urge to wrap them around his throat and squeeze. “What do you want?” As if I didn’t already know.
After he showed up on campus almost two weeks ago, I scraped together another couple hundred bucks. Now he’s back for more. That’s the thing about him. He will always come back for more. Even when there’s nothing for me to give.
A slight chuckle falls from him as he shrugs. “You know how it goes.”
Unfortunately, I do. “I thought you were trying to find a job.”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking around.” His gaze skitters away, which is a sure sign he’s lying. “Even filled out a few applications.” Bitterness whips through his eyes, turning them frosty. “Had to show my parole officer.”
Right. It’s all smoke screens and lies with this guy. He would probably expend less energy taking a part time gig than constantly manufacturing excuses along with applications for jobs he has no intention of accepting.
One quick glance around tells me that we’re alone. But still, I step closer and lower my voice. “I told you that I didn’t have anything more to give.”
“And yet you came up with a little bit more.”
“That was the last of it.” A towering wave of bitterness crashes over me. “What I make in the summer is all I have to live on during the year.”
“I bet if you asked around, someone would loan you the money.” He waves a hand, encompassing the stadium. “I saw all the photos that line the walls, you’re a big deal around here. People are probably throwing shit your way all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me if you could squeeze them for a goddamn car.”
I drag a hand over my face. He has no idea how anything works.
“How about that girlfriend of yours?” He shifts his weight and cocks his head. “She’d probably be more than happy to help out.”
I recoil at the idea of asking Demi for anything, let alone money for my deadbeat father. “We’re not together anymore.”
Thank fuck. It’s the first time I’ve had reason to think it. But staring at the man before me, it’s a relief to know that she’s out of my life for good. He’ll never touch her.
“Michaels!”
Shit.
I whip around only to find Nick Richards standing twenty feet away with his clipboard in hand.
“Yeah, Coach?” I straighten my shoulders and pray that he’ll rattle off something before disappearing back into the tunnel.
Instead, his gaze darts from me to my father before he eats up the distance between us with a couple of long-legged strides. “Hello, Scott. I didn’t realize you’d been released.”
What the fuck?
I had no idea that Coach knew anything about my father. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed. It was too embarrassing to admit, even to this man who has been nothing but good to me, that my father was sent to prison for murder.