Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Shane grabbed a box from over the bar, laughed some more as a few people spoke with him and patted him on the back. His eyes scanned in Van’s direction. As soon as they zeroed in on Van, every fucking thing in Shane’s expression changed. He went cold. Closed up. Looked at Van with the kind of hate in his eyes Van hadn’t seen in a long time. The kind of hate he deserved.
Shane’s eyes went from Jonathan to him and back to Jonathan again, just as Van’s tablemate turned around.
Jonathan gave him a small wave and then chuckled again, before Shane gave Van one last death stare, and turned away.
Van knew he should move, get up and say something; because if there was anyone who ever deserved an apology from Van, it was the man standing at the counter.
When Shane got to the door he turned, taking one more look at Van and walked out.
As Jonathan began rambling again about his mom, his wife, and hey, we should get together sometime, Van’s mind stayed with the boy who’d been more like Van than he’d ever known. With the only man he’d thought about over the years and wished he could see again, because nothing in his whole fucking life ever made him feel the shame he did when he thought about how he’d treated Shane Wallace.
CHAPTER FOUR
He’d overthrown. He couldn’t fucking believe he’d overthrown. There’d been no way Mathews could have caught the ball. He’d been open, right in front of the goal line. If Max had thrown accurately, if he was a better athlete, Mathews would have caught it and they would have won the championship.
“Fuck,” he cursed before he kicked the book on his bedroom floor, which flew up and hit the wall. Why the hell did he have to screw up so badly? He’d messed it up for everyone. He’d lost the championship for his team.
Max tensed up when he heard footsteps from the hallway. There was no doubt in his mind who it was. His father had been in the locker room after the game. In front of the others, he’d told Max it wasn’t his fault just like everyone else on the team had, despite the tears in their eyes and the edge in their voices. He’d told Max they had a good season. He’d done his best. Blah-fucking-blah. All the shit Max knew he didn’t feel. He was Maxwell Sullivan. He was expected to be perfect. Anything less than wasn’t acceptable.
Max sat on the edge of his bed and waited. When the door opened, he looked up, looked his father in the eyes because that was what was expected of him. He shouldn’t shy away. A man always looked another man in the eyes. You were weak if you didn’t. What he saw was hardness in his dad’s eyes.
“That was an easy throw, Maxwell. Your defense did their job; they blocked for you. Your running back did his job; he got open. You’re the only one who didn’t do his job.”
“It was an accident,” Max replied. “I screwed up. I don’t know why I overthrew.”
“Because you lost your head the way you always do!” he snapped. “You have to toughen up. You’re mentally weak and you always have been. It’s all up here.” He tapped his temple. “If you’re strong and portray that, people will believe you. You’ll believe you. You’ve always been so goddamned soft.”
He flinched at his father’s words and looked down.
“See, like that. Looking away because you can’t handle it.”
Max winced when he felt his father’s hands tighten in his hair. He jerked Max’s head up so he was forced to look at him, his grip getting tighter and the sting to Max’s head sharper. “Don’t look away. You fucked up the season for your team. All that work for nothing. One throw. One throw and we would have won. Don’t turn away from seeing what you did. Own it.”
“Yes, sir,” Max replied fighting the tears that wanted to leak from his eyes. Fighting the urge to wince again in pain.
“You’re supposed to be a leader. Your peers need to be able to look at you to lead. I know you think I’m being hard on you, but you’ll appreciate it one day. You’re destined for greatness, Maxwell, it’s about time you stopped acting so goddamned weak and proved it.” He pushed Max’s head as he let go of his hair. His fingers twitched with the need to rub the spot where his dad had pulled, but he didn’t dare. “Now, get dressed and go out with your friends. Everyone will expect you to be out tonight. We’ll finish discussing this later.” Without another word, he turned and walked from the room.
Only it wouldn’t just be a discussion. Max knew better than that.