Page 16 of Boarded by Love (Bellevue Bullies 1)
âRalph wants me to go to Wisconsin,â he says. I drop my phone into the basket as he does the same. Ralph is our agent and a longtime family friend.
âWhat do you want to do?â
âI guess go to Bellevue. I donât want to leave yet, but I want to be noticed.â
I nod. âI get that, but remember I have four teams looking at me, and I go to Bellevue. Weâre gonna kick ass this year.â
âHell, yeah, we are,â Jayden adds as he carries Angie on his shoulders toward the living room.
âYou gotta do what you feel is right, Jace,â I say, cupping his shoulder before turning just in time to see my dad standing up from his chair. Heâs around my height, but heâs thick like Jayden. His dark black hair is cut short, his green eyes hard as emeralds. His mouth is in a straight line, and he doesnât look too pleased to see me, really. Itâs crazy because when I was outside, I was relaxed and free, but under my dadâs gaze, I feel panicky, like I need to run back out. This is how itâs always been. My whole life.
âHe should go straight into the draft. No need to wait,â he says, passing by me with no greeting at all. âYou all should. You obviously havenât been working hard enough.â
; âLike he would know,â Jayden says under his breath behind me. I want to laugh but I know better. My dad has never put his hands on us, probably because he isnât around, but when he is, itâs easy to say that not all abuse is physical. I used to sit back and take it, but lately, I really donât give a fuck. I donât live here. I donât need him. Havenât needed him, so Iâm usually the first one not to whisper under my breath. I let him know exactly what Iâm thinking at all times.
âYouâre completely right, Dad,â I say, and my mom sends me a look as Lucy shakes her head. âI obviously donât have a full ride to college or am the captain of a team when Iâm only a sophomore or have the respect of my whole team. And Jayden must not push himself to the point of exhaustion every day and must not play rather than study, but he does both. Poor Jace obviously isnât the leading scorer in the high school league for the whole damn United States. Nope, thatâs not us. Must be some other Sinclair kids.â
Dad glares back at me and places his hands on his hips. âMust be.â
âFucking jerk,â Jace whispers and I nod in agreement.
âDid you come all this way to ruin the dinner your mother cooked?â he asks me and I shake my head.
âNo, I came here to spend time with my family, but of course, youâre here and have to make everything tense and forced.â
âI can leave if youâd like, you know. We all have to make Jude happy.â
âDad, Jude, please,â Lucy says, cuddling Angie in her arms. âDonât fight.â
I set my father with a look as he slowly nods. âNo fighting, sweetie. He knows he hasnât worked hard. Thatâs why heâs so defensive.â
Before I can say anything else, Jace cups my shoulder, shaking his head as my mom says, âOkay, letâs eat! I know yâall gotta head back early for classes.â
I want to say more, but with one look in my momâs eyes, I know this isnât the time. I should have ignored his words, but like always, I let him get to me. I really donât understand it. Why do I care? He doesnât give two shits about me. I could be in the NHL, the leading scorer, and he will find something to bitch about. He will find something that Iâm doing wrong, or that he thinks Iâm doing wrong, and ride my ass about it. I know my mom loves me and is proud of me, along with my siblings, so really, I donât need anything else. Or at least, I try to say I donât. The truth is that I crave his attention, his love, and most of all, I want him to be proud of me. Crazy, I know. No one should have to fight for the love of their father, but, unfortunately, it happens every day.
Especially in the Sinclair residence.
Chapter 7
Claire
I hate Mondays. They are dumb, in my opinion. I mean, why is there a day that is bound to be horrible? Every Monday is like this for me. For some reason, I can never remember to set my alarm before I pass out on Sunday, and so I wake up with only time to brush my teeth before running full speed out of my dorm toward my English class. Itâs sad and ridiculous, and as I look down at myself, I canât even muster up enough energy to be embarrassed that Iâm wearing Pink! sleeping shorts and a large, purple Nashville Assassins hockey team shirt. Or that my hair is so large that it could give a southern belle from the eighties a run for her money.
I look busted, and usually I wouldnât care, but when I come out of my English class to find Jude Sinclair leaning against the wall, I curse the heavens. I try to walk by him, hoping he doesnât see me. But of course, no such luck.
âLookie here, Claire Anderson, we meet again.â
I hide my smile as I say, âDo I know you?â
He laughs as he falls into step with me. âOf course you do. Remember Iâm the hottest guy on campus, the same guy you want to meet for dinner tonight.â
I scoff as I pause to look at him. Of course, he looks devilishly gorgeous in a black tank and red athletic shorts. His arms are covered in tattoos, and I want to get closer to dissect each one, but since Iâm playing that I donât know him, that wouldnât be a good idea.
âSorry, I donât date.â
His grin doesnât falter. âWhy is that?â