Chapter 55
LIVELY
Hailey didn’t know I was out here.
Didn’t know I was standing outside the gate of my parents’ house, hands clenched into fists inside the pockets of my hoodie, staring up at the same cold, sprawling mansion I’d avoided coming back to since freshman year of college.
No, I’d left her sleeping in my bed. She hadn’t stirred once when I slipped out of the apartment. Small mercies, I guessed.
The house felt more like a high-security museum than a home. The one place I’d sworn I’d never return to unless I absolutely had to. Now I absolutely had to.
And she was the reason I was here now. The only reason.
“I don’t regret everything I said to your parents… but I do regret putting you in trouble with them. I’m sorry if I—”
I knew I’d told her not to worry about it…
about them . Because it wasn’t her goddamn burden to bear.
That shit was mine to deal with. And I had every intention of dealing with it right now, before it had any chance of coming back around and biting me in the ass.
My Hailstorm had finally chosen me. And I’d be damned if I let my parents’ bullshit taint that.
I’d fought like hell to earn her love, and now I was going to protect it the only way I knew how: by making sure it never got stained by the poison of this house.
My phone buzzed with a message, and I immediately thought it was Hailey. Had she woken up and was now looking for me? Shit. My heart picked up pace in my chest, but when I saw the name flashing across the notifications tab, the panic fizzled out almost immediately.
Dylan : Are you really gonna make me sleep on the fucking sidewalk, man?
I huffed a laugh through my nose, thumb already moving across the screen.
Me : Why are you sleeping on the damn sidewalk?
The message barely sent before the response came in, instant.
Dylan : I’m not tryna hear some unholy music should I step foot in that apartment, man.
My mouth twitched. Fucking idiot.
Me : She’s asleep right now. You’re lucky you stayed away.
Dylan : So…you guys have made up fr?
Dylan : What, are you guys a couple now?
I stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the screen. The part of me that still wanted to stall latched onto them, grasping for one more second of reprieve, but my brain wasn’t letting me gaslight myself. Not anymore. I knew what I was doing.
I wasn’t texting Dylan to reply. I was texting Dylan to avoid doing what I came here to do.
My thumb hovered over the phone's power button for a second, then pressed it. The screen went dark, and I shoved the phone into my pocket. Then I looked up.
The mansion loomed ahead, just as sterile and impersonal as I remembered. All white stone and arched windows, marble steps gleaming under the porch lights. Every inch of it screamed wealth. Success. Power.
But not love. Never love.
I exhaled slowly and crossed the last few feet. Before I could knock, the front door opened with a soft mechanical whirr.
“Welcome, Master Summers,” Fredrick said, voice soft and formal, the way it always was—measured like he was reading from a script written before either of us were born.
And just like that, my stomach twisted at the sound of it.
That title. Master Summers . It felt like a costume I’d long since outgrown, but that everyone in this house still expected me to wear.
No matter how many times I asked him to just call me Lively, Fred never did.
Couldn’t, maybe. Like he was holding onto something he didn’t know how to let go of.
Tradition. Structure. Lines in the sand that didn’t matter anymore—but still cut when you stepped across them.
But the truth? It wasn’t the title that made me wince. It was the man saying it.
Fredrick had been in this house since before I’d even been born.
He’d made sure I ate when my parents forgot dinner existed.
Taught me how to tie a tie when Dad was too busy fielding calls from congressmen.
Sat beside me in silence when I came home with a busted lip and a cracked rib after a game—no questions asked, just a warm hand on my shoulder and an ice pack.
And the awkward part was… he’d been more of a father to me than the man sitting at the head of this mansion ever had. But he still bowed when he saw me. Still called me Master .
That fucked me up more than I’d like to admit.
“Hey, Fred,” I said, forcing the corners of my mouth up into my usual smirk—the one that said I was fine, totally in control, totally unfazed. The one I used to survive this house in the first place. “Did you miss me?”
Fredrick’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Fondness. Maybe even a little grief.
“The house is very dull without you in it,” he said with a quiet smile.
I snorted under my breath. Yeah. I bet.
This place might’ve been bursting at the seams with money, but it was hollow to the core.
My parents probably hadn’t exchanged more than five words all day, let alone come downstairs to say them.
Silence was their language. Disapproval their punctuation.
Fredrick was the only heartbeat left in this place.
“Where are they?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.
Fred bowed slightly again. “Having dinner, Master Summers. I will tell the kitchen to fix you a plate—”
I shook my head before he could finish. “Nah, I’m not staying that long.”
The sound of cutlery echoed from the dining room as I approached, the air in the house growing colder with each step.
The floor beneath me gleamed so clean it felt sterile, like a hospital wing.
Maybe this was why I had a love-hate relationship with hospitals.
Was it that I hated that my home reminded me of that place…
or that the hospital reminded me of the home I never had?
Didn’t matter much now anyway. Now was not the time to contemplate such dead things. I pushed the door open and walked in. My father was the first to look up. His face tightened instantly.
"Good evening, Dad," I said, tone calm.
His fork hit the plate with a sharp clatter. "Good evening?" he repeated, voice rising with disbelief. "Do you even comprehend what you’ve done?"
Heh. Not even a pleasant evening could be had in this damn house. I tilted my head slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
His chair screeched as he shot to his feet. A crystal wine glass went flying, shattering into useless shards.
" You don’t know? You let that unruly ruffian loose in the hall last night!"
The easygoing mask I wore like armor slipped clean off. Because that wasn’t just anger in his voice. It was pure contempt . For her. And that just wasn’t going to fucking fly.
"Do you know how many funders and colleagues were in that hall? That foolish girl's words could cost us—"
"It’s not like they were lies," I said, voice slicing the air like ice.
His gaze frosted over. "What did you say?"
“What she said. None of it was a lie.” I was way past the point of giving a shitabout the weight of their anger. I was pissed off, too.
A vein in his temple throbbed so hard I thought it might burst. "You’ll change your tune when she’s in court for defamation." He said, his tone laced with venom.
But those words only made me laugh. A short, bitter sound that didn’t reach my eyes.
"Then I guess you’d better prepare for me to testify against you." I said, simply.
Silence.
My mother, up until now dignified in her tight-lipped disgust, finally slammed her fork down. "How dare you, you ungrateful child? We gave you everything! All we asked for was obedience. And now you threaten us?"
My throat burned, but I didn’t let it show. I’d spent years trying to be someone worthy of their love…their genuine care. But it had never been about me . Only about control.
"You threatened me first," I said, a crooked smile lifting one side of my mouth. "And trust me, you don’t want the media crawling through your affairs. Think of the headlines. I mean, let's not play dumb here. You’re not as untouchable as you think."
My father’s hand moved so fast, I barely had time to react. A bottle of wine sailed through the air, crashing against the wall behind me. Glass rained down.
Still, I didn’t flinch.
“Throwing tantrums now?” I asked dryly. “How very unbecoming.”
“You little…” He hissed at me, his entire body shaking.
“So, let’s cut the bullshit,” I said, stepping fully into the room now. “Let’s make a deal.”
His mouth twisted into a sneer. “You think I’d make a deal with an ungrateful brat like you?”
"Your choice. But you’re going to want to hear it." I replied, cool and unbothered, despite the way my heart pattered inside my chest, restless. Anxious.
He stared at me, trying to break me with his silence. But I’d already lived through years of it.
"Well?" he finally snapped.
"It’s simple," I said. "You leave me the hell alone."
His brows furrowed.
"I’m not quitting hockey. Not now, not ever.
I’m not doing Medicine. Stay away from my team, pull your funding if it makes you feel powerful.
I don’t care. Stop trying to pair me off with whatever rich daughter’s on your list. And don’t you ever call my girlfriend a ruffian, a fool, or any other slur in my face ever again.
I won't tolerate anyone disrespecting my girlfriend. Not even you.” I said, my tone level.
My mother’s eyes burned holes into me, and when she spoke, her voice was cold enough to curdle blood. “You think you can—”
“I’m not your puppet.” I said, cutting her off. “I’m not your fucking trophy. I’m a human being, and you’re going to treat me like one starting now.”
My father’s expression went stone-cold. "It’s a shame I have no other children," he finally said, voice venomous. "I would’ve disowned you in a heartbeat."
I didn’t flinch. Maybe because I’d braced myself for this exact moment, the final confirmation that I never really had a place in this house. Not as a son, anyway. I absorbed the words like winter wind: sharp, expected, and numbingly familiar.
It should’ve hurt. And maybe it did, somewhere deep down, in the part of me I no longer answered to.
But what rose higher, steadier, was a strange, startling calm.
Whatever piece of me had held out hope for reconciliation, for one scrap of warmth or regret or even the barest flicker of parental instinct, withered and died in that moment.
And strangely, it didn’t ache the way I thought it would.
I was just… done .
"Aw, don’t be shy," I said, backing toward the door. "You can go ahead and do it. At least then I won't have to worry about having Hailey meet you both."
He didn’t speak. Neither of them did. I turned on my heel without waiting for a response. My mother didn’t move. My father didn’t speak. And I didn’t care.
I didn’t look back. Not once.
Because they’d never once been my home.
The drive back to campus was a blur but, by the time I got back to the apartment, Dylan still hadn’t returned. A small mercy. The knot in my chest had loosened only slightly. I was still raw, still cracked open—but I’d done it.
I’d finally done it.
And when I stepped into my room, all the noise inside me stilled. Hailey was curled up in my bed, her face half-buried in the pillow. She looked peaceful in a way that made my throat feel too tight.
I peeled off my clothes and pulled on a pair of sweats, the cotton soft against skin still tight with adrenaline. Then, careful as hell, I slipped into bed beside her and pulled her into my arms. The moment my body curled around hers, everything calmed. My pulse. My breath. My thoughts.
She murmured something in her sleep, nestling against me. And I knew.
This was it. She was my home now. One I’d never leave.