Chapter 4 Chapter Four
Nat’s pov
“Is this what you’re going to do at the tournament?” Dad’s voice cut through the parking lot before I even made it to the car
I paused, irritated by that now familiar tone in his voice.
The disappointment.
It's like nothing is ever enough, like I could give him the World Cup and he'd still be unsatisfied.
I'd learned to shut up when he spoke, even though it still landed the same way it always did. The longer he talked, the tighter my fists clenched, my teeth grated against themselves, and I forced myself to take deep breaths.
"That's not how I got my picture hung on your school's billboard. Next time, stop patting the ball before you throw. You're telegraphing every pass. Any decent defense is going to read you before you even release it."
He kept talking, demonstrating like I was five years old while I stood there, gulping the water I had snatched from him without really tasting it, trying to remember if he'd ever once said good game without a but attached to it.
"I scored twice," I muttered, my hands tightening on the bottle till my knuckles turned white.
"You could have done more. You held the ball too long in the third quarter. You had open receivers, and you panicked in the pocket. The State scout was there, Nathaniel. Do you understand what that means?"
I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, forcing down the words that wanted to come out.
"We'll talk about this at home." He waved his hand like he was shooing something away.
Not if I can help it. I’d already heard enough for one day, and I wasn’t interested in round two over dinner.
I shoved the bottle back at him and walked toward the locker room. Like maybe if I moved fast enough, I could get ahead of the weight in my chest, and the way my jaw still ached from holding it shut.
I kept thinking about the scout the whole way there. Not because I cared about the scout, but because that was easier than thinking about his words. I didn't know when I'd stopped expecting anything different. I just knew that somewhere along the way I had, and that was probably supposed to feel like progress, but mostly it just felt like something I'd lost without noticing.
I just wanted to breathe.
“Yo, Nat. Check this out.” Tyler cackled at something on Marcus’s phone as I pushed through the locker doors.
I dropped my bag and pulled my jersey off, not bothering to look at what he was showing me.
I reached for my locker and paused when I noticed a piece of paper at the bottom, same as last week, same as the week before. I grabbed it and shoved it into my bag, slamming the locker hard enough that the one beside it rattled.
Are you kidding me? After what happened at the party, she’s still leaving these? She has some nerve.
I clenched my fist so hard my fingers cracked.
“Another one?” Marcus' voice came from behind me.
"No way." Tyler pocketed his phone, suddenly interested. "Fatty still at it?"
They thought it was funny, but it was starting to feel less like a crush and more like a threat.
“Drop it.” I snapped.
“It's been three weeks in a row.” Marcus leaned against the locker beside mine.
“I said drop it.”
He raised his hands in surrender and pushed off the locker.
“Alright, alright.”
Someone slammed a locker down the row, and Tyler called out something about tomorrow’s game.
My phone rang, and Chloe’s name lit up the screen. The last thing I needed was her whining about something. I had bigger problems right now. I let it ring until it stopped, then shoved the phone into my pocket.
At least I didn’t tell these idiots that Mom hired her as Emma’s nanny. The last thing I need is them showing up at my house and making this worse.
I finished changing and threw my bag over my shoulder.
The second I get home, she’s out. I don’t care what Mom says.
"You coming to Jake's later?" Tyler asked.
“Can’t. Got something to handle at home.”
“Since when do you handle family stuff?” Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Since now.” I headed for the door before they could ask more questions.
I switched off the engine and sat in the driveway, staring at nothing.
I still can’t believe she'd keep trying to push me after everything that happened to her last night. She could do something to Emma to prove a point, after all, someone who sends letters like this isn't stable.
My hand tightened around the steering wheel.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the letter, ripping it open.
I saw you through the gym window today. You were wearing that blue shirt that shows your abs. I hated how everyone was looking, but I enjoyed how tired you were. It made you look vulnerable.
I don’t like how Chloe touches your arm. She doesn’t like you as I do. She doesn’t deserve your time. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about the others. I’m going to make sure they stop distracting you. It’s just going to be us soon.
I have something of yours now. I hold it when I sleep. It makes me feel like you’re already in the room with me.
See me in your dreams, — J.
My blood boiled. This psycho was inside my house right now, around my little sister.
I crumpled the letter in my fist, shoved open the car door, and stormed toward the house. Mom has no idea who she just brought into our house.
I stepped inside, scanning the sitting room. The TV was on with the volume low.
I moved closer and heard voices coming from the kitchen. Emma’s voice floated out, followed by another voice that made my stomach turn.
My jaw clenched as I headed straight for the kitchen.
