Chapter 5 Deep Wound
Logan’s Point of View
Dad must be out of his fucking mind.
I stormed out of the upper drawing room, leaving Dawn there. She was both confused and terrified. I reached out, almost bumping into both Henry and Sonny standing in front of the room.
“Dude, what’s up?” Henry asked curiously, but I brushed past them. “We are going to be late for practice.”
I ignored them, heading for my father’s room; some things needed to be straightened out. I never really cared about the women he fucked around with ever since Mom died, as long as he left me out of whatever mess he was making, I stayed out of his business and activities.
He randomly showed up one day, claiming he was getting married again. Naturally, I opposed it, because it was hardly a year since Mom and Benjamin passed away, yet he was moving on so quickly. I sulked about it for a week, and now I’m finding out that the scholarship freak was going to be my stepsister, and then what?
I’m going to be the laughingstock of the entire school.
“Dad!” I barged into his bedroom.
The moment I entered the room, a wet smooching sound resounded in my ears. And my eyes caught sight of the long dark hair that probably belonged to his wife-to-be. They were in a sensual position, my father lay on his back while the woman was on top of him, kissing hungrily, tongue in mouth, and hands exploring each other's bodies.
I turned my head away from the sight, grimacing at it; meanwhile, after noticing the intrusion, father and that woman disengaged from each other.
“What did we say about knocking, Logan?” Dad rasped as he got up from the bed, my eyes shifted towards the woman who was desperately trying to adjust her dress. Dad, on the other hand, buckled his belt but forgot to wipe off the lipstick that was smeared all across his lips.
He looks like a fucking clown.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
“Hello, you must be Logan.” The woman said with a big smile on her face, still adjusting her dress. “I have heard so much about you; I’m glad to finally meet you in person.”
She outstretched her hands for a shake, but I just glanced at it, unwilling to take it. I scanned through her very lacking appearance; I didn’t expect much from Dawn’s mother.
“Is this the gold digger you chose to marry?” I asked disappointedly, and Father’s expression changed instantly. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then.”
“Hey, is that how you are going to speak to your stepmother?” Dad yelled at me, the disappointment in his voice thick. “Where the hell are your damned manners?”
“You can’t marry her,” I stated in a more serious tone, and his eyes narrowed in surprise. “I won’t allow it to happen. Her daughter is my classmate, and she can’t ever be my stepsister.”
“I have no time for your nonsense, and aren’t you supposed to be training to be some hockey prodigy?” He huffed; contempt laced his voice. “Maybe if you spend more time training and behaving well instead of constantly constituting a nuisance, you can be a little more like Benjamin.”
The word struck my heart.
I stood frozen in shock, and Father sucked in a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips; meanwhile, I just stood there, unsure of what to do.
“Every day, I can’t help but wonder if things would be any different if you had died instead.” The word sounded like a bomb, and my heart squeezed. I was aware of how much he hated me, but I never realized it was this much.
“Luther…” My supposed stepmother reached for him, grabbing his arms and pulling him even closer. “You shouldn’t be so harsh on the boy.”
He pushed her away softly, pointing at me, the rage in his voice as raw as the day it happened.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a failure, he wouldn’t have died.”
My jaws tightened, my fists balled at my sides, and wordlessly, I stormed out of the room, ignoring the rest of the words he aimed at me.
“Logan, we need to leave.” Sonny reached me, but I ignored him, storming off towards my car. Henry and Sonny rushed towards me, seizing the car keys before I could ignite the engine.
“I’ll drive.” Sonny urged, and I didn’t argue with them.
Apart from my teammates, they were my childhood friends; they knew me so well that I didn’t even need to explain my mood, most of the time—they had noticed the shift in my mood the moment I left my dad’s bedroom.
“Did something happen?” Henry queried after some minutes of driving in silence, and I just threw my shoulders up, unwilling to talk about it.
“Forget it.”
“Are you sure you can play the game? You’re the quarterback, you need to be in the best mood for the game.” Sonny reminded me, his eyes met mine from the rear-view mirror. “We can have a substitute for you, and you can join us in the next training.”
“I’m fine,” I replied crustily.
My grip on the twig tightened as I skated through the ice, my moves reckless, as I tried to push back the thoughts spiraling in my head. I moved the puck along with me, unwilling to pass it to my teammates. The other teams attacked, but I blocked, slamming some of them into the ice, even.
“Hey, dude,” Johnson complained as he followed me, desperately trying to take the puck from me. Our twigs clashed, blades from the shoes scratching through the ice.
I didn’t care that I was playing rough… but just as I was about to shoot the puck into the net, Johnson shoved me, and the puck struck the pole, skidding to the edge of the court. I slammed the twig on the floor and grabbed the front of his shirt, and in the split of the moment, my fist connected with Johnson’s face.
“Fuck, they are fighting!” I heard people, but every single thing blurred in the moment, as I pummeled Johnson to the ground.
