Call It What You Want(27)

He’s faster, but not by much. This time, when Samantha tries to shove him away, he ducks inside her movement, his stick flying out to capture the ball. She tries to jab him in the side, but he twists and shoulders her away.

She refuses to yield. Their legs tangle. They go down.

Oh, crap. I’m on my feet.

The porch door behind me slides open. My father’s voice booms across the yard, some mixture of worry and anger. “Samantha! Are you okay?”

Then he’s rushing past me, still in uniform.

Double crap. I go after him.

By the time he gets to them, Rob is pulling Samantha to her feet.

They’re both red-faced and breathing hard, but she’s smiling. “That was awesome.”

Rob’s eyes are wide and concerned. “Are you all right?” he’s asking her. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“You’re damn right you didn’t mean to,” my father says. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

Rob falls back a step, but he doesn’t flinch from my father’s eyes. “Maegan invited me.”

Uh-oh. Dad turns his eyes to me. “Are you crazy.”

So rhetorical there’s not even a question mark. I babble anyway. “Samantha was bored. She wanted to play. Rob is my math partner—”

“Enough.” He turns to Rob. “Do you know what you’re doing? You could really hurt someone.”

“It was an accident,” Rob says. “We got carried away.” Then he tacks on, “Sir.”

“Well, it’s not going to happen again.” He glares at Samantha, who hasn’t said a word. Her breathing has returned to normal. Any joy has died from her eyes, leaving nothing but righteous anger.

“What on earth are you thinking?” my father demands.

“I was thinking I wanted to play a game,” she snaps. She shoves her lacrosse stick into Dad’s chest, and he catches it automatically. “No one got hurt. Not even the ‘little problem.’ ”

He looks like he wants to break the stick in half. His jaw is clenched. “Come inside. We’re going to talk about this.” He looks at Rob. “And you are going home.”

Rob takes a step back. He nods quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“No.” Samantha loops an arm through Rob’s and holds him there. “He’s Maegan’s friend. And we’re going to dinner.”

Rob takes a breath. He looks to me as if for help. “I, uh …”

My father ignores him. “You are doing no such thing. You are coming into this house, and you are going to—”

“No!” cries Samantha. “I’m eighteen years old, and I’m going to get something to eat. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was playing a stupid game. You’re not telling me what to do, Mom isn’t telling me what to do, and this dumb baby isn’t telling me what to do.” Her voice cracks, and she starts crying. “Okay, Daddy?” Her breath is hitching. “It was a stupid game. And now I’m going to go get some stupid dinner.”

Dad takes a long breath and runs a hand back through his hair. “Samantha—”

“Come on,” she says to me. “I need to get out of here.” Then she turns and starts dragging Rob toward the driveway.

I follow, though I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing. My father’s anger hangs in the air and seems to follow me all the way to the car.

Rob doesn’t bother to strip the pads, he just tosses his helmet into the back seat. I move to let Samantha ride shotgun, but she finally lets go of Rob’s arm and shoves me at the passenger door.

Once we’re all inside, I realize my father is still in the middle of the backyard, glaring at the car.

“Are you sure about this?” Rob says under his breath.

“Yes,” Samantha says fiercely. “I can’t go back there now.”

“Okay.” He starts the engine. Pulls out of the driveway. Pushes sweat-spiked hair out of his eyes.

We drive in complete silence for a minute.

Then Samantha bursts out laughing. “Sir. Oh my god, that was too much. You’re no dummy, Rob.”

He shrugs and glances at her in the rearview mirror, then over at me. “Well. You know.” He smiles, and butterflies go wild in my abdomen. “He did have a gun.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rob

I should be thinking about how good it felt to run with a stick in my hands again. Or maybe about how shitty it felt to have a cop in my face. Or the fact that I could have really hurt Maegan’s sister—though Samantha could legitimately kick my ass. On the field or off.

Honestly, I should be paying more attention to the fact that Maegan looks really pretty with her hair loose.

Instead, I’m thinking about the fact that her father was the first man I saw after finding my father, and seeing him tonight brought everything back in a flash of gore-soaked memory. They teased me for calling him sir, but it wasn’t respect. It was me trapped in a memory, when my eyes didn’t want to see and my shocked brain ran on autopilot.

I’m also thinking about the fact that I’ve got three dollars in my pocket, and according to this stupid menu, a soda is a dollar ninety-nine.

These thoughts tangle together and go nowhere good. Some days I truly hate my father.