A couple of days later, Jaxon knew it was coming. The second he stepped through the front door of his house, the tension hit him like a wallâthick, heavy, unavoidable. His father was back from his work trip, which meant the conversation Jaxon had been dreading was no longer on hold.
"Jaxon."
He barely had time to brace himself before his dad appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes hard.
"Care to explain what happened last night?"
Jaxon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not really."
His father's expression darkened. "This isn't a joke. Do you have any idea how unprofessional it looked when you didn't show up? Coach had to cover for you, and the recruiter was left waiting. Do you know how many players would kill for an opportunity like that?"
Jaxon clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
His dad took a step forward. "You have been given every opportunity to succeed, and this is how you repay me? By skipping out like some entitled child?"
Something hot and bitter curled in Jaxon's chest. "Skipping out on what, exactly? Another meeting where some guy tells me what I already know? That I'm supposed to follow the path you chose for me, be grateful for it, and not ask any questions?"
His father's jaw tightened. "Yes, Jaxon. That's how it works. You don't get to just throw this away because you're having some teenage rebellion moment. This is your future."
Jaxon let out a humorless laugh. "Right. My future. That's funny, considering it's never felt like mine."
For the first time, his dad hesitated. Just for a second. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before shaking his head.
"I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but you better figure it out before you ruin everything. You have a game coming up. Show up. Play well. And don't make another mistake."
Jaxon said nothing as his father turned and walked away, the tension in the room lingering long after he was gone.
He felt exhausted. He felt angry. But most of all, he felt lost.