Jace POV
When I got home, I already knew what was coming.
The second I walked through the front door, I could feel it in the air. That burning tension, the kind that crawls up your spine before a storm hits. My father’s voice was already echoing from the living room. Pacing. Huffing. Slamming something.
Yeah. He’d lost it.
Again.
Ever since the doctor said I might never play volleyball again, my dad had been spiraling. And not in a “concerned parent” kind of way. More like a this-was-my-dream-and-you-ruined-it typ
And lowkey?
I didn’t even care anymore. I was finally breathing for once.
But that didn’t stop him from starting in the moment I stepped into the room.
“So, you’re home,” he snapped, his arms crossed. “Was it fun playing pretend boyfriend with Sinclair while your whole future went down the toilet?”
I closed the door behind me and dropped my bag. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I will start,” he snapped. “She’s your downfall. That girl—she’s the reason this all happened. You lost your head. You let her distract you. And look where it got you. Injured. Useless.”
“Shut up,” I said, my voice quiet.
He didn’t hear me—or maybe he just didn’t care.
“You could’ve had everything. The scholarship. The career. You were destined to be a volleyball legend. Instead, you chased after some girl with a pretty face and an attitude, and now—”
“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I screamed, my voice shaking the walls.
He went still.
I stepped closer, breathing hard. “I don’t want to be a volleyball prodigy. You wanted that. You built that dream and shoved it down my throat.”
His eyes widened with fury, but I didn’t stop.
“I want to race, Dad. I love racing. I won a goddamn motocross championship, and you didn’t even say congrats. You don’t see me—not who I am. Just who you want me to be.”
His hands clenched into fists. “You’re being selfish. You’re throwing away everything.”
“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “You threw me away the second I wasn’t perfect anymore.”
His face twisted with rage.
“That’s it,” he spat. “You are not my son. You want to be free? Fine. Be free. From now on, you’re disowned. Pack your bag. Get the fuck out of my house. Tomorrow morning.”
He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. And I just stood there.
Silent. Frozen. Alone. I should’ve felt something. Anger. Sadness. Regret. But I didn’t.
I felt…
Relieved.
Like this heavy armor I’d been carrying for years had finally cracked and fallen off.
I turned around and walked up to my room. No yelling. No arguing. Just… done.
I sat on the edge of my bed and looked around the room that had felt more like a prison than a home. The trophies on the shelves, all volleyball. Photos of me holding awards I never even wanted.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen. There was only one person I wanted to text.
Danny.
He already knew the situation with my dad. He’d seen it up close. He never said much about it, but I knew he knew how toxic it was.
Hey. I’m basically homeless now, I typed.
Not even ten minutes later, he replied.
You always have a home at mine.
Come through whenever. I got you.
My shoulders dropped. My lungs actually filled. Like—for the first time in years—I wasn’t drowning. And it hit me.
Yeah, I lost my dad. Yeah, I lost the scholarship. Yeah, I missed Regionals. Probably volleyball forever. But none of that felt like losing.
Because now, I had Lola.
And I had freedom. And I had the chance to live my own damn life. I didn’t have a future built by my father anymore.
I had a future that I chose. A future where I got to race. Where I got to breathe. Where I got to be me.
And Lola—
She was the best part of all of it. She wasn’t the reason I lost everything.
She was the reason I finally let it all go.