Page 96 of Rookie Moves

But as far as I remember, my mom has never looked at me in that way.

“My team won the Frozen Four,” I blurt out, interrupting their conversations because I’m sick of them not acknowledging something that means a lot to me.

Dad’s stern gaze drifts over to me, his expression unreadable as he picks up his whiskey and takes a sip.

Mom doesn’t say anything, her face also completely void of any emotion, and it’s only Joey’s face that lights up.

“It was great to watch,” he says exuberantly.

“Thanks. It was a great experience. We had a really strong team this year. Some of the guys are incredibly talented.”

“Glad you had fun, but it’s time to step into the real world now, Tyler. There’s no time for playing silly sports,” Dad declares in a no-bullshit tone.

I snap my mouth shut, teeth clicking as I clench my jaw to the point of pain.

And just like that, the topic is dismissed, and he goes back to talking about a deal they’re working on.

Picking up my beer, I take a greedy gulp and look at the other tables, wondering if I can join them for dinner instead.

I don’t know what I was expecting. A hint of praise? To hear that my parents are proud of my accomplishments? It’s never been something they’ve done before, so I’m a fool for thinking they would do it now.

Dinner is served, and I eat in silence, ignoring my mother’s disapproving stare as I finish each dish like I’m starving.

Maybe if I disappoint them enough, they’ll leave and forget all about how I’m supposed to head back to Arizona and follow my dad’s orders like a good, obedient son.

Once the table is cleared, Dad clears his throat, demanding attention.

Reluctantly, I drag my attention away from looking at anything but my family and pin him with a “what?” look.

“I’ve booked for your things to be collected at 10:00 a.m. on Monday, then a car will pick you up at eleven thirty to take you to Boston Logan. Nina has emailed you your flight information and boarding pass,” Dad announces.

Suddenly, the noise of the restaurant becomes muffled, like I’ve been dunked underwater. I blink at my dad, my brain scrambling to make sense of what he’s just said.

“But I haven’t started packing yet?”

“What? Why not?” he barks.

“Because I was going to do it after graduation…” I say, trying to stop my voice from shaking as my heart tries to claw into my throat. “I still need to say goodbye to my friends… Pick up my gear from Coach Vaughn.”

He makes a sound of disbelief, and his face turns slightly red in frustration.

“There’s no time to waste, Tyler. I’ve arranged for your first client meeting at 10:00 a.m. Tuesday morning. It will look incredibly unprofessional to postpone your first meeting with a client.”

My mouth opens and closes several times, but words are a lost cause on me. The air in the restaurant is thinning out, like we’re running out of oxygen and we’re going to suffocate in these four walls.

Un-fucking-believable.

This is the first time I’ve seen him in almost a year because I didn’t go back home for Thanksgiving or Christmas as we had games, and he’s already trying to steamroll his way into controlling my life again.

No easing me in or giving me time to learn the ropes.

No acknowledgment of the fact that I’ve spent four years living in a different state for college.

He expects me to just drop everything whenever he says so. Like I haven’t built a life of my own.

Scraping my chair back, I toss my napkin on the table and mumble, “Excuse me.”

With a choked breath, I round the table and head toward the exit, needing a minute to try and calm down before I lose my shit in the middle of this fancy restaurant. My pulse thunders, a rapid beat that would make me worry I was having a heart attack if I weren’t in the presence of my dad.