Chapter 2

Dad came over the next morning.

I knew because Lily saw his truck through the front window and ran to tell Mom.

I stayed in my room.

My shoulder was swollen.

My ribs hurt.

My phone had three hundred messages from teammates, coaches, and classmates.

I answered none.

All I could see was Dad’s smile in that photo.

Family shows up.

The doorbell rang.

Mom opened the door.

I heard Dad’s voice.

“Claire, I need to talk to him.”

Mom’s voice was colder than I had ever heard it.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m his father.”

“Then you should know why.”

Silence.

Then Dad sighed.

That sigh.

The one he used when he thought everyone else was being emotional and he was the only adult in the room.

“I made a mistake.”

Mom laughed.

Not kindly.

“You missed his state championship.”

“I said I made a mistake.”

“No, Daniel. A mistake is taking the wrong exit. You made a choice.”

I sat on the edge of my bed.

My door was cracked.

I could hear everything.

Dad lowered his voice.

“Marissa is trying to blend the families. Tyler has had a rough time since his dad left.”

Mom said, “Your son’s father left too. He just did it while still living ten miles away.”

That hit so hard I stood.

Downstairs, Dad said nothing.

Lily’s voice came next.

“You didn’t come.”

I froze.

Mom whispered, “Lily, sweetheart—”

But Lily kept going.

“You promised Ethan. He kept looking.”

Dad’s voice broke a little.

“Lily…”

“He scored and looked for you. Mom cried.”

I opened my door.

Dad stood in the foyer holding a gift bag.

He looked up at me.

I saw surprise first.

Then guilt.

Then something like defense building behind his eyes.

“Hey, champ.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He flinched.

I came down the stairs slowly.

The house felt too small for all the things nobody had said since the divorce.

Dad lifted the bag.

“I brought something.”

I stared at it.

“You missed the game and brought a bag.”

His face tightened.

“It’s a custom display case for your medal.”

“My medal doesn’t need a case. It needed you in a seat.”

Mom looked away.

Dad set the bag down.

“I know you’re hurt.”

“No. You don’t.”

“I do.”

“No, you know I’m angry. You don’t know hurt.”

His jaw clenched.

“Ethan, I’m trying.”

“Trying would’ve been showing up.”

“I was at a child’s game.”

“So was Mom.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Because I’m yours?”

His mouth closed.

There it was.

The truth neither of us wanted.

He had treated Tyler like a child who needed love and me like a finished project.

Lily stood beside Mom, clutching her pajama sleeves.

Dad crouched slightly.

“Lily, I’m sorry I upset you.”

She stepped behind Mom.

“You didn’t upset me. You hurt Ethan.”

Dad looked like that sentence knocked the air out of him.

Good.

It should.

Then his phone rang.

Marissa.

I saw the name from the stairs.

He silenced it.

It rang again.

He silenced it again.

Then a text popped up.

Are you still at Claire’s? Tyler is asking why you left breakfast.

I almost laughed.

Even now.

Even here.

Someone else was waiting for him to return.

Dad turned the phone face down.

Too late.

I had seen enough.

“Go.”

“Ethan.”

“Go to breakfast.”

“I came here for you.”

“No. You came here because you felt guilty. There’s a difference.”

His eyes reddened.

“That’s not fair.”

“You keep saying that.”

Mom stepped forward.

“Daniel, maybe you should leave.”

He looked at her.

Then at Lily.

Then at me.

His voice softened.

“Can we talk later?”

I wanted to say yes.

That was the awful part.

Some part of me still wanted him to fix it.

Still wanted him to show up so badly I almost handed him another chance right there.

But I remembered the empty seat.

I remembered the post.

I remembered Dad saying I was almost an adult.

“I don’t know,” I said.

He nodded like I had punched him.

Maybe I had.

After he left, Mom sat beside me on the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You didn’t do it.”

“No. But I chose him once.”

I looked at her.

She had never said anything like that.

Mom stared at the door.

“When your father and I divorced, I told myself if I stayed calm, you kids would be okay. I didn’t want to make you choose sides.”

“You didn’t.”

“No. But maybe I made it too easy for him to choose when parenting was convenient.”

I did not know what to say.

Lily climbed into my lap even though I was too bruised for it.

I let her anyway.

That afternoon, Coach Reynolds came by with game footage and college scout messages.

“You’ve got calls to return,” he said.

I nodded.

He looked at Mom, then at me.

“You okay?”

I almost lied.

Then I said, “No.”

Coach sat down across from me.

“Good. Then we won’t pretend. You had the best game of your life, and someone who should’ve seen it didn’t. That matters.”

My throat tightened.

He slid a flash drive across the table.

“But the game still happened. Don’t let his absence steal your win.”

After he left, I watched the footage.

The touchdown.

The dogpile.

The trophy.

Then the camera caught me looking into the stands.

Again.

Again.

Again.

By the third time, I turned it off.

My phone buzzed from an unknown number.

It was a screenshot.

Marissa had posted again.

A photo of Dad, Tyler, and her at breakfast.

Caption:

Real dads show up where they’re needed most.

Below it, someone had commented:

What about his actual son’s championship?

Marissa replied:

Some boys need attention. Some young men need to grow up.

My hands shook.

Mom took the phone from me.

Her face went pale with rage.

Then another message came.

From Dad.

Please don’t respond to Marissa. She’s upset.

I looked at Mom.

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