Jace POV
“Where the hell were you?”
The second I dropped my helmet on the kitchen counter, I heard that familiar voice behind me—sharp, cold, and laced with disappointment.
I turned around slowly.
My father was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed, brows drawn together. He was still wearing the same button-down he’d had on yesterday. His eyes were tired, but not from lack of sleep—from being constantly let down.
“It’s almost five in the morning, Jace,” he said. “You should be resting. You should be sleeping. Not out doing whatever the hell you were doing. We’re in the middle of Regionals, and this is your focus?”
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and mumbled, “I just went to the tracks.”
“The tracks?” His voice shot up like a damn alarm. “Again? Are you serious right now?”
I stood still, jaw clenched.
“When are you going to realize the tracks won’t take you anywhere?” he snapped. “Volleyball is where it’s at! Regionals have started, Jace. You should be focusing. Practicing. Getting good sleep. You think scouts are gonna look at you when you’re sluggish on court because you’ve been screwing around on a dirt bike all night?”
He kept going. Talking and talking.
About expectations. About how he didn’t raise me to be reckless. About how I should be “grateful” for the talent I had on the court and use it properly, unlike other boys who would kill for this chance.
But I didn’t hear most of it. I’d heard it all before. Same speech. Different day. So I turned my back on him.
“Goodnight,” I said over my shoulder, already walking toward the stairs.
“So you’re just going to leave?” he called after me. “You’re not even going to answer me?”
I didn’t. I just kept walking. It wasn’t new. He talks. I shut down.
And honestly, I was so tired of it. Tired of having to live a life I didn’t choose. Tired of pretending I loved a game that wasn’t mine. Tired of carrying someone else’s dream while mine collected dust.
But still… volleyball was the only thing keeping us together.
The only bridge between me and the man who raised me. If I let go of that, I had nothing. No father. No family.
And with Mom gone… he was all I had left.
I stepped into my room, closed the door quietly behind me, and sat on the edge of the bed.
My legs ached from the ride. My heart ached from the silence that followed.
And all I could think about was her.
Lola.
The girl I had no business caring about. The girl who should’ve been my biggest distraction. My competition. My enemy.
And yet, she was the only thing that gave me peace.
That night ride with her had cleared my mind more than any team huddle or late-night run ever could. The way her arms wrapped around my waist, the wind in her hair, her laughter as we joked—it made everything quiet. Everything light.
But God, what the hell was I doing?
I couldn’t be with her.
Being with Lola meant breaking my father’s trust. It meant losing the scholarship. Losing the plan. Losing everything.
It meant choosing her… and having no one left. I leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore.
No, that’s a lie. I did know.
I wanted to race.
I wanted Lola.
I just didn’t want to lose everything else.
The sound of the water running in the shower calmed me for a while. I stood under it until the heat stung my skin, trying to clear my thoughts the way I always did. But nothing worked tonight.
I stepped out, wrapped a towel around my waist, and crawled into bed.
My phone buzzed. My heart jolted—instantly thinking it was her. Lola.
I reached for it fast.
One new message from Danny.
“I put your name down for the motocross competition. Better see you there, champ.”