Page 87 of Punked By the Playmaker
Ahazeofredclouded my vision.
The little shit who bullied my daughter might have sparked the all-consuming rage coursing through my veins, but that was only the tip of the iceberg.
I was so fucking angry.
Angry that Maisie was viewed as less than because she was missing part of her leg.
Angry at the woman who didn’t bother to tell me that I was going to be a father.
Angry at myself, because had she come to me thirteen years ago, I would have supported her choice to give the baby away.
Angry that if it weren’t for a twist of fate, my daughter might have never come looking for me, and I would have missed out on falling in love with the most resilient, amazing kid I’d ever met.
“Levi?” The call of my name could barely be heard over the rush of blood in my ears.
An explosion of emotions ripped through me, and I screamed, “My daughter is not a cripple!”
Arizona approached me slowly, compassion written in her blue eyes. “No, she’s not.” Her hand landed on my forearm. “But she does have a disability, and that’s something that will never change. It’s not right, but there will always be people who view her differently because of it. And some of them won’t be kind to her.”
That struck a chord deep within my chest.
A fist closed around my windpipe. “I’m no better than that kid Austin hit.”
My wife’s eyebrows drew down. “What?”
“Pushing buttons to make someone snap? That used to be my MO. And I’m ashamed to admit I got a kick out of fucking with them. I didn’t care that my actions sometimes threatened to ruin the lives and relationships of others. I leaned into the asshole persona, made it my entire identity.”
Her hands found my face. “I know it’s hard not to let the past define you, but you’re not that person anymore. I’ve seen the transformation firsthand. You’ve become a caring father and a supportive friend. You’ve changed Austin and Maisie’s lives for the better.” There was a pause, and it felt as though she was staring straight into my soul when she added, “You’ve changed my life for the better.”
My eyes slammed shut. “I’ve hurt a lot of people.”
Her thumb stroked over my skin. “It’s never too late to make amends.”
I blinked at her. “You think?”
A smile touched Arizona’s lips. “I know.”
Nodding, I considered what she was suggesting. There were many who might not forgive me—and I couldn’t say I blamed them—but it might bring me peace to apologize. If I wanted to be a better person, I needed to start by clearing my conscience.
Arizona’s soft touch, her comforting words, allowed my heart rate to settle, but the adrenaline crash hit me hard. Sudden exhaustion washed over me, and it became a struggle to remain upright.
Thank God my wife was there to hold me up—in more ways than one.
She didn’t hesitate to loop an arm around my waist, guiding me to the car.
In a voice saturated with self-loathing, I said, “I scared the kids, didn’t I?”
“I think they were more shocked than scared. You don’t usually lose your cool like that.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “When he said that little punk wasn’t even going to get a slap on the wrist, I just—” Looking skyward, I shook my head. “Fuck. I couldn’t control it. I just went ballistic.”
Squeezing my side, she said, “You had every right to. That principal has a duty to protect his students. All of them, not just the ones who threaten to press charges.”
A scoff fell from my lips. “Can you actually believe that shit?”
“Honestly? Yeah. A lot of parents believe their kids are perfect angels who can do no wrong, and any time something happens to them, it must be someone else’s fault.”
How could I argue with that, when for so many years that had been my mindset? I never took accountability, blaming others when things didn’t go my way.
