CHAPTER 4 #2
I exhaled through my nose, shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder. “What do you need?”
“Straight to it, then, huh? Not even a how’ve you been?”
“You only call when you need something, Dad. I’m just trying to save us both time,” I responded sarcastically.
A pause crackled over the line. Then, a forced chuckle. “Alright. Fair. You’re a grown man now, I get it. But since you’re asking, yeah, I could use a little help. My car broke down—”
I stopped outside the building where my next class was and leaned against the brick wall, my jaw tightening. “You already told me that. The last time I sent money, you said it was for the car.”
“Did I say car?” he fumbled, his words tripping over one another. “I meant…the heater. Yeah, the water heater went out. Whole place was freezing. You know how it is. Things pile up.”
My stomach twisted. The water heater wasn’t even for heat, but I bit my tongue. He couldn’t keep his stories straight anymore, the same excuses shuffled around like cards in a losing hand. And I was supposed to buy it. Again.
“You still there?” he asked when I hadn’t said anything for a second.
“Is this about the heater or the sportsbook app?” I finally asked quietly.
Silence.
I closed my eyes, dragging a hand through my hair. “I told you the last time—I’m not enabling this shit anymore.”
“Matthew.”
Fuck, I hated when he said my name like that. Like I was five again, and he was still a man worth listening to.
“You think I don’t know I screwed up? That I haven’t been trying to do better? I just need a little help. A couple grand to get ahead this month. That’s nothing to you now, right? I know what that deal with Under Armour is worth. You’re rolling in it, son.”
I flinched. “How do you know those details?” I asked, cursing the existence of social media and everything else that allowed my dad to know any details about my life.
“The whole internet knows. You think your little brothers don’t shout it out every time you get mentioned on ESPN? You think the neighbors don’t talk my ear off about it every time they see me? Everyone knows. You made it. You’ve got the golden ticket.”
“You mean I am the golden ticket.”
He scoffed. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” My voice was quiet, flat. “Every time you call, it’s for money. You didn’t even ask how classes are. Or how the season’s going. Or if I’m okay.”
“You owe us.”
The words hit me like a punch.
“What?”
His voice hardened. “You think you got there on your own? You think those summer camps paid for themselves? Or the extra shifts I worked to afford your cleats? You think your mom didn’t go without so you could have protein powder and a gym membership? We sacrificed everything for you.”
Guilt twisted in my gut, ugly and sour.
“You think I wanted to take out that second mortgage? You think your siblings never noticed the lights getting cut off because we had to drive you to out-of-state tournaments? And now you’re too good to help your family out when we’re drowning?”
I started up the stairs of the building, only vaguely aware of the students that were passing by or the looks they were giving me. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. But I need to know it’s actually helping. Not just going into another bet. Not just burning down with the rest of your excuses.”
“You saying I’m a lost cause now? That I’m not even worth trying to save?”
“I’m saying I’ve been here before, Dad. Too many times. And I can’t keep cleaning up after you.”
“Wow,” he said, his voice cracking just enough to make me feel like the asshole. “You forget where you come from real easy, don’t you? All that money, and it makes you think you’re better than us.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it? You too embarrassed of the poor family back home? You think your siblings want to keep eating ramen so you can live out your dreams? You think your mom doesn’t cry every time your name comes up because she misses you so much and knows you won’t call?”
I gritted my teeth. And of course, the second he said her name, I saw her.
Sweet and small in the kitchen back home, still wearing her nurse’s scrubs after a double, humming to herself while she stirred a pot of spaghetti that never seemed to stretch far enough.
Her tired eyes lighting up every time she looked at me, like I was still her baby boy.
Not the ghost who only called when he had to…
because every call risked running headfirst into her asshole husband and his demands.
“Don’t bring her into this,” I snarled.
“She’s in it, Matty. We all are. This family bled for your dream. And now that you’re living it, we just want to breathe.”
My hand was shaking by the time I stepped inside the doors.
“You think I don’t carry that? Every day? That I don’t lie awake at night wondering if I did the right thing leaving? Wondering if I should’ve quit and stayed home and gotten a regular job just to make sure you didn’t drink away the mortgage again?”
His breath hitched, and I knew I’d gone too far.
But I couldn’t take it back. Not now.
“Send the money or don’t,” he said finally. “But don’t pretend you’re better than us or that you’re some kind of god who doesn’t need to worry about his family struggling.”
The call ended.
I stood there, phone in my hand, heart hammering like I’d just come off the field after a full game.
I wanted to throw the phone against the wall. I wanted to scream. But all I could do was stare.
Because as much as I hated it…he wasn’t completely wrong.
They had sacrificed. They had scraped and clawed and pushed me toward this dream.
But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the dream.
It started being about the payout.
And I didn’t know how to fix that.
I just knew I didn’t want to be the reason they drowned.
And I didn’t want to be the reason I did, either.
I exhaled, long and hollow, a breath that felt like giving up and giving in at once. My thumb hovered over the screen, then moved. Sending it now, I typed, more because the motion steadied me than because it solved anything. I hit send before I could change my mind.
The three dots popped up almost instantly.
Dad: Knew I could count on you, son. You’re a good kid. Don’t forget who’s always been in your corner.
I stared at the message until the words blurred. My phone screen went dark, reflecting my own expression back at me—jaw clenched, eyes flat.
“Hey, you good?”
Garrett’s voice broke through the quiet. He was coming down the hallway, backpack slung over one shoulder, that easy grin on his face like nothing in the world could ever actually bother him.
“Yeah,” I said. “Fine.”
He didn’t look convinced. “You sure? You look like you’re about to fight a wall or something.”
I let out an annoyed breath and started walking toward our class, and he fell into step beside me.
“Well,” he said, his tone light, “maybe this’ll cheer you up.
Saw your little stalker again this morning.
Girl’s been getting bold—she was parked in the front row by the fieldhouse.
And dude…” He grinned. “I actually got a closer look at her this time. She’s hot. Like, way too hot to be that unhinged.”
I stopped walking. Something twisted in my chest, sharp and ugly.
Garrett laughed, not noticing. “You should at least find out what she wants, man. If she’s gonna keep showing up, might as well enjoy the view.”
The words hit a nerve I didn’t know was exposed. “Why the hell would I care what some clingy, desperate freak wants?” I snapped. “She’s probably just another attention-starved girl with no life, following guys around because she’s too pathetic to get one of her own.”
Garrett blinked, startled by the venom in my voice. “Whoa. Okay. Didn’t mean to set you off.”
Before I could say anything else, a sound cut through the quiet…a soft, broken sob. It was faint, like someone had tried to swallow it before it escaped.
We both turned toward the noise.
At the far end of the hall, all we saw was a door swinging shut. The echo of it closing seemed to stretch, bouncing off the walls until it faded completely.
Garrett frowned. “You think someone heard us?”
I forced a shrug, my throat tight. “Doesn’t matter.”
But the hollow feeling in my gut said otherwise.
He nodded slowly but didn’t say anything else. We walked into class in silence after that, my pulse still pounding in my ears.
The anger didn’t fade; it just sat there, heavy and sour, until I couldn’t tell if I was mad at my dad, at my stalker…or at myself.
My phone buzzed again, another text from my dad. This time it was a link to some expensive fishing gear he didn’t need and wouldn’t use.
Dad: Think you could grab this for me, champ?
The message sat beneath it like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just asked me to send him thousands of dollars.
I stared at the screen until everything else—the professor’s drone, Garrett, that faint sob—faded into the background.
The phone screen went dark, and for a second, it felt like I did, too.