Troublemaker: A Playmaker Duet Prequel (Prescott Family Book 2) by Mykel Mignon

Author:Mykel, Mignon [Mykel, Mignon]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Mignon Mykel
Published: 2016-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

“No, Noah, I am not putting you on video. He’s not supposed to strain his eyes. You know better,” Mom said into the phone as she unlocked the front door. I followed her into the house, my body aching, and moved to collapse on the couch. I rested my head on the back cushions, hoping that Mo would get here sooner than later.

God, I felt terrible.

Physically, yeah, but also mentally.

“…damn well that boy is going to be texting this week, Ryles.” I opened my eyes and turned my head toward Mom, who dropped her purse on the buffet table behind the love seat and sat. Mom must have switch the call to speaker.

“I put you on speaker, Noah.”

I closed my eyes again and breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly through my nose.

“You ok, Porter?” Dad asked through the air waves.

“I’m ok.” I kept my eyes closed. I could just picture Dad’s face, irate with me for ruining his truck.

“You hurt anywhere more than you told the doctors?”

My Dad knew me incredibly well. I had been known to fib about aches and pains in the past so I could play the rest of a game—or the rest of the season, for that matter.

When I didn’t answer right away, Dad cut back in, “Porter.”

“No.”

“Porter, you can’t be stupid when it comes to your head.”

“Noah…” Mom warned.

“Ryleigh, it’s not his first concussion.”

“But you can’t call him stupid.”

I lifted a hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose, pinching my eyes tight. “I didn’t lie. To the doctors.”

“We’re going to talk when I get home.”

“I know.” I said it quietly, but I knew Dad heard it through the phone.

There was a deep pause before his voice cut through again. “Ryleigh, take me off speaker phone.”

I heard the tell-tale beep as she did just that and I started to move to get up, ready to head to my room.

“Ok, one second.” I glanced at my mom, narrowing my eyes when she pointed at me. She stood and handed me the phone.

Shit.

It couldn’t be good that Dad wanted to talk to me in, essentially, private.

I took the phone from her and she ran her hand through my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before moving into the kitchen. “I’ll watch for Mo,” she said over her shoulder. “You take that upstairs.”

I moved up to my room, closing my bedroom door behind me, before pressing the phone to my ear. “Yeah, Dad?” I sat at the edge of my bed, leaning forward.

What the hell were you thinking?

My fucking truck?

God, you have been nothing but a never ending fuck up.

These were all things that rushed through my head as I waited for him to come through the line. I was surprised at the amount of anxiety I had, waiting for him to cut me down.

My parents were good people, don’t get me wrong. But at some point, in the midst of all my mistakes, they had to snap.

“Are you really ok?” The tone of his voice was one I wasn’t prepared for.

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