Ch45

ENZO

“No, you listen to me, you miserable...”

I bite my tongue hard, my chest heaving like I’ve just played three consecutive periods of brutal overtime. I can’t do this here. Not with her standing in the entryway looking at me like I’m a malfunctioning machine.

I turn on my heel, shoving past her, and storm up the stairs two at a time, leaving her screeching complaints against the walls.

Once I hit the second-floor landing, I pull my phone out of my pocket, my thumb swiping. I can still remember what I told Nova downstairs. What we were going to do before my mother arrived unannounced. I open a browser tab. How to be good to her?

A bunch of sappy, useless relationship blog links pop up. I stare at the screen, let out a scoff at some generic advice about "active listening and emotional availability," and delete the search. I try again. How to be a boyfriend.

I scroll through a few more articles until one headline actually makes me snort. Signs you're failing as a boyfriend. Yeah, well, I don't need a lifestyle blog to tell me that. Still, I keep scrolling, skimming past the garbage until I actually find a couple of useful points about pacing yourself, not being an overbearing jerk, and actually listening when someone talks instead of just staring at them like an idiot.

I toss my phone onto the bed, strip off my cloth, and pull on a fresh black shirt and dark jeans. Just as I'm adjusting the cuffs, my phone starts buzzing on the mattress.

I glance at the screen. Dad.

I stare at it for a second, before I swipe to answer and press it to my ear.

"Don't even start," I say before he can say a word.

"Watch your tone with me, Lorenzo," my father’s cold voice crackles through the speaker. "Your mother just called me in hysterics. She said you brought some trash into my house and spoke to her like an animal. If you don't go down there right now, apologize, and fix this attitude, you can kiss your spot on the roster... and any future financial backing for your college scouts... goodbye. Am I clear?"

"You're always clear, Dad. Enjoy your business trip." I say.

I hit end call before he can bark another threat, tossing the phone back onto the bed. I stand there for a second, rolling my jaw, working the tension out of my neck. I hate this house. I hate both of them.

Slowly, I walk back down the stairs.

When I reach the bottom, I find my mother sitting on the living room sofa. She's holding a fresh tissue, dabbing delicately at her eyes, looking like a victim.

I cross my arms over my chest, leaning my shoulder against the wall, and let out a cynical sigh. "Don't be that dramatic."

She looks up, her eyes flashing. Well, damn. She's annoyed. "I'm dramatic? You just disrespected me in my own home!"

"You were being a bitch," I mutter, rolling my eyes. Then, letting out a breath, I force the words past my teeth. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She sniffs, her chin lifting as her gaze slowly drifts back down to her phone screen.

I push off the wall, stepping a little closer. "So... can you please tell Dad not to follow through on his little threats?"

She doesn't look up right away. She lets out a slow, calculated breath, turning her phone over in her palm. "You know your father's other family get everything if you flop?"

I stare at her, my blood running cold. I hate when she brings them up. I hate the mere existence of that side of the family, the shadow hanging over every single thing I do on the ice.

She looks up at me, her expression hardening. "Enzo, you're not going to flop. You're going pro. You're going to be the best hockey player there is! You are my son! You're not one of Matilda's useless sons or her whore of a daughter! You're my smart boy, and you'll make me proud! And that's why you can't afford any distractions."

I nod. I just nod. Not because I'm actually listening to her rant, but because the last thing I want to do is fuel this fire, and I refuse to stand here and talk about Matilda or my father's second life for another second. I despise them. I despise my mother for caring more about the scoreboard and the inheritance than anything else.

She studies me for a long beat, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you like her?"

My brow knits together. "What?"

"Lorenzo," she says, her voice dropping. "Do you like that girl?"

I scoff, shaking my head. "I don't..."

"You have to be completely honest with me," she interrupts, leaning forward.

"What are you going to do?" I ask.

"Whatever is necessary," she replies.

I need to shut this down. I need to make her believe that Nova means nothing to me, that this whole thing is a joke, anything to keep my mother's toxic radar off of her. So I lean into the lie, weaponizing my own indifference, though I feel like a dick for what I'm about to say.

"I don't like Nova," I say. "She's just like a little sister to me."

My mother raises a single eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"Look, I was dared, okay?" I push harder, digging my own grave just to build a wall between Nova and my mother's cruelty. "Some of the guys dared me. Get the naive girl to fall for me. That's all it is."

My mother’s lips part in mild surprise. "Oh?"

"Yeah," I spit out, letting the venom bleed into my tone to sell the lie. "And honestly? It's getting old fast. She's so pathetic, hanging around all the time, crying over nothing, looking like a drowned rat half the time she shows up at my door. She's stupid, clingy, and completely uninteresting. Her whole personality is just her brother's shadow. Anyone would get bored of her in five seconds. She looks like she raided a clearance bin from 2012 and calls it an outfit... always whining, always making everything a federal case. I'm just playing along because it's an easy win, but trust me, she means nothing to me."

My mother watches me intently, a thin smile spreading across her face. "Does Noah know you chose his sister?"

"Leave Noah out of this,"

"I was just curious," she replies.

"What's with all the questions, anyway? Drop it," I say, turning away.

Instead of answering, she smiles wider... a sickening, triumphant expression... and taps her finger on her phone screen. A second later, a voice fills the quiet living room.

“I don't like Nova... She's just like a little sister to me... I was dared, okay? Get the naive girl to fall for me... She's so pathetic... stupid, clingy, completely uninteresting... looking like a drowned rat...”

My own voice echoes back at me.

What. The. Fuck?

My chest stops moving. The blood rushes in my ears. I whip around, staring at her. "What..."

She tilts the phone toward me, her smile glacial. "I did what I had to do, Lorenzo. To make sure my son keeps his head in the game."

"You recorded me?!" I ask, stepping forward as the full weight of what I just did... what I just let my mother capture on tape... crashes down on me. If Nova ever heard that... if she ever knew I said those vile, trashy things just to get my mother off my back...

"Fuck!" I yell, slamming my hand against the nearest wall.

"You can thank me later," she says coolly, taking a sip of her water. "Now you know where you stand. Keep your eyes on the ice, Enzo."

"Fuck off," I tell her.