When Our Worlds Collide (Our Worlds #1)(107)

I sit there in this tiny chair debating on what to say. I focus on the framed photos and awards along his walls. There’s a wooden frame on his desk that holds a photo of him and his family. He has a wife and three kids, two boys and one girl. They all look happy standing around a picnic table in a park.

“The All-American family,” I say under my breath making sure he doesn’t hear.

I wondered if we have any photos in our house like that one. I wonder if we have ever been that happy. I’d like to think in the beginning that we were. No one wants to believe that their father has always loathed his own family.

“Coach, it’s not what you think,” I lie. “He can just be tough on me.” I lie again.

“Graham, that’s not being tough. The things he was saying were inappropriate and unnecessary. You can talk to me.” Coach stands from his chair behind his desk. He comes and sits in front of me leaning against the desk. His eyes scorch into me. He’s waiting for the truth that he’ll never get.

That’s when it hit me. He knows. There is no doubt in my mind that he already knows my secret. See the way he’s looking at me right now? There’s pity in his eyes, something that I have avoided all these years by not telling anyone about my father except for one person. Except for one person, only one person knows everything.

Kennedy.

I stifle my anger trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. Reality is that I’m ready to punch something, anything as long as it breaks with the impact.

“Coach, you want me to be honest with you but you can’t be honest with me. I know you know so let’s cut the shit, okay?” I let my voice rise with my budding anger.

“Let’s cut the shit then. I know that black eye wasn’t from you getting into a fight, so explain to me what happened and don’t lie to me this time.” Coach demands. He’s getting angrier right alongside me.

I explain it to him. The whole damn truth. I’m far from happy about having to spill all my families’ dirty little secrets. There’s no lying to him when he already knows the truth. This pisses me off even more. He never does admit that it’s Kennedy who approached him, but he doesn’t need to. He avoids my questions when I ask him how he knows.

Kennedy’s the one person besides my mother and hers that knows what happens when I’m, at home with my drunk of a father. She’s the one who keeps demanding that I need to confide in someone. She’s also the same person who worries every day because of what she knows. I understand why she did what she did, but that doesn’t mean that I’m happy about her choice. In fact, the more I sit here telling Coach about my shitty life my irritation boils over the side of the pot.

Coach keeps reassuring me that if I need anything at all that he will be just a phone call away, to not hesitate to pick up the phone. I tell him thank you and that if it gets worse that I will come to him first before I walk out of his office. I think we both know that’s a lie.

I have zero intentions of ever confiding in him or anyone else. I can handle this on my own. I’ve done it on my own for years. That’s not going to change any time soon.

The parking lot is deserted by the time I make it out to my car. The cool air hits me. I stand beside my car before slamming my fist into the window. It seems like a good release in the moment. One thing I know for certain is that I need to get drunk. That’s what I need to do.

I jump in my car blasting the radio to full throttle. The angry rock music helps calm my nerves as I head straight to Dan’s house. I know that I’ll have to deal with Kennedy when I see her. Good thing I have no intentions of seeing her…right away---at least. Maybe not at all.

Dan has his secret stash of tequila in the garage. I just need to cut the edge off before I listened to Kennedy’s excuses. That’s what I’ll do. A couple of shots and I’ll be golden.

Kennedy will feed me a line on how telling Coach was for my own good. Blah, Blah, Blah. She’s the one who promised me that she wouldn’t breathe a word. She promised me that she would keep it between us. She even made her mom make the same sacrifice for me, but she couldn’t do it in the end. When the tough got going she bailed on the plan and did what she thought was best without thinking about how it would affect my life.

Now I’m going to have to deal with Coach watching me, fearing for my well-being. That isn’t something that I want. It’s bad enough that Kennedy voices her concerns all the damn time.

Pulling onto Dan’s road I park my car down a ways in the closest spot I can find. I walk up the driveway avoiding everyone to sneak in the side window. The door is kept locked to make sure no one like me can sneak in.

Oh well. Luckily no one saw me making my way up to the party.

I find the bottle just where I know it will be, popping the top. The clear liquid slides down rough the first time, but after the first five pulls it goes down much smoother. I know I’m on my way of being completely obliterated. I can’t find it in myself to even care. I don’t care about anything right now. I sit with my back against the steel garage door taking a few more sips before putting it back where I found it. Dan will know someone was in here when he comes looking for something more expensive to drink. I let the liquid do its job, not entering the house until everything in front of me appears to be a blur.

Being drunk is surprisingly relaxing. I take the few steps into the house from the garage and am greeted by a few of the guys from the team and cheerleaders. They’re hanging around in the kitchen. I scan the room to find Amanda leaning against the counter top talking to Becky.