17. Ally

Chapter 17

Ally

I couldn’t believe how angry I was. Janet's words buzzed in my head, a relentless swarm. The nerve of her, confronting me face to face. I walked to the bus stop, my fists clenched in my pockets, trying not to make it obvious how upset I was. Drawing attention wasn’t on my agenda.

I pulled out my phone and texted Nick:

We need to talk.

His reply came almost immediately:

Come to my place. We can talk now.

A frown creased my forehead.

I'd prefer it be somewhere public.

I have practice soon. You don't have to stay long.

I clenched my teeth, knowing Nick was taking advantage of the situation. He always had a way of manipulating things in his favor. The bus pulled up with a screech, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket, pushing aside the irritation that threatened to consume me.

As I boarded the bus, I focused on the hum of the engine, trying to calm myself. But Janet's words echoed in my mind, intertwining with the unresolved feelings for Thomas and the ever-present shadow of grief. My thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a gust of wind.

I found an empty seat by the window and stared out at the passing scenery. The town blurred by, buildings and people melding into one continuous stream. My heart pounded against my ribcage, each beat a reminder of how everything seemed to be spiraling out of control.

Janet’s confrontation had been a sucker punch. She knew exactly where to hit me to make it hurt most. It wasn't just about money; it was about power, control, and dragging me back into a past I was desperate to escape.

It was about bringing up my biggest failure as a woman just to make sure I knew that she knew. And the worst part was, she had been through it herself. She knew what that was like and still fired her words at me like bullets, not caring how cruel she was being.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. Meeting Nick at his place wasn't ideal, but if it meant getting some answers or at least some closure, then I'd do it. I needed to confront these ghosts if I ever hoped to move forward.

The bus ride felt endless, each stop adding another layer of anxiety. By the time we reached my neighborhood, I felt like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. Stepping off the bus, I squared my shoulders and made my way towards my apartment building.

This conversation needed to happen—whatever came of it—because avoiding these confrontations had only led me here: stuck between past hurts and an uncertain future.

I walked to my house and grabbed my keys from the small wooden bowl on the console table. My fingers brushed against a few coins and an old receipt, but I ignored them, focusing on the task at hand. The air felt heavier today, each breath carrying the weight of the confrontation to come.

I slid into my car and started the engine, the familiar rumble doing little to calm my nerves. As I drove towards Nick's neighborhood, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and disbelief. His neighborhood was lined with sprawling mansions, each one more ostentatious than the last. The manicured lawns and towering gates screamed wealth and excess.

Why would someone so young invest in such a massive house? It felt like a waste of money, especially when it was just him living there. Plus, playing a professional sport didn't guarantee he would have money coming in. I frowned at the thought, but tried not to judge him too harshly. Nick had always been driven by appearances, wanting to project success at any cost.

I pulled up to his place and typed in the gate keycode. The black iron gates creaked open slowly, revealing a long driveway that wound through perfectly trimmed hedges and blooming flower beds. The grandeur of it all was almost suffocating.

Driving up the driveway, I took in the sight of Nick’s mansion. It was an imposing structure, with tall columns flanking the entrance and large windows that gleamed in the sunlight. The exterior was a mix of stone and brick, giving it a stately yet cold appearance. It looked more like a museum or a showpiece than a home.

The front yard stretched out expansively, with a pristine fountain in the center surrounded by meticulously arranged roses. As I parked my car near the entrance, I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place here. This wasn’t where real life happened; it was a carefully curated facade meant to impress.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before stepping out of the car. Whatever awaited inside, I had to face it head-on. There was no turning back now.

I knocked on the massive wooden door, my knuckles barely making a sound against its solid surface. A moment later, the door swung open, and there stood Nick, a grin plastered on his face. Before I could react, he pulled me into a hug, his arms tight around me.

"Hey," he murmured into my hair. "I take it you'll agree to the shoot?"

I blinked, momentarily confused. The shoot? Right, the favor he needed. But that wasn't why I was here.

"No," I said, stepping back and putting some distance between us. "I'm actually here to talk to you about your mom."

His grin faltered slightly. "My mom? What about her?"

"She knows, Nick. She said you told her." My voice trembled with anger and hurt. "How could you?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. "What do you want from me, Ally? She was going to find out, eventually."

"Find out?" My voice rose. "How? How could she possibly find out about something that doesn't involve either of you? And anyway, that wasn't your decision to make! You had no right."

Nick's eyes hardened. "And what was I supposed to do? Keep lying to her? She's my mom."

"Your mom?" I scoffed. "This is about more than just her knowing! It's about you betraying my trust."

"Betraying your trust?" He laughed bitterly. "You're overreacting. It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?" My fists clenched at my sides. "You know how much this means to me, how much I've been struggling."

He shook his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Oh please, Ally. You're always so dramatic about everything."

I stared at him in disbelief. My anger flared hotter.

"You don't get to minimize my feelings," I snapped. "You don't get to decide what's important or not. You couldn't possibly know what it feels like —"

Nick shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe if you'd been honest from the start, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He glared. "And I may not know about that, but I certainly know what it feels like to know my dad has been fucking my girlfriend!"

"Ex," I snapped. "We weren't together."

"Like that makes it better," he said. "See? You're not being honest."

"Honest?" I echoed, incredulous. "You think this is about honesty? This is about you violating my privacy and using it against me."

He leaned against the doorframe, looking bored. "Honestly, Ally, you're blowing this way out of proportion."

My vision blurred with unshed tears of frustration and betrayal. How had it come to this? How had the boy I'd once loved turned into someone so callous and manipulative?

I took a step back, needing space to breathe and think clearly.

"We're done here," I said quietly but firmly.

Nick's eyes narrowed slightly, as if calculating his next move, but said nothing as I turned on my heel and walked away from the mansion that now felt more like a prison than ever before.

The argument echoed in my mind as I made my way back to my car, each word stinging like an open wound that refused to heal.

"Ally," Nick called, stopping me in my tracks.

I froze but didn't turn around, the anger still bubbling under my skin.

"Where did my mother confront you?" he asked, his voice a dangerous edge.

Something cold slid down my spine. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question pressing on me.

"You already know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Or you wouldn't be asking me."

"Are you and my father fucking?" Nick's words were like a slap, cutting through the air. "Again?"

I turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. "That's none of your business."

"Of course it's my business," he raged, his face contorted with fury. "You were mine first. You were mine!"

"And then I wasn't," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. "Because of this. Because of your temper."

"So, you decide to get back at me by fucking my dad?" he demanded, stepping closer.

"What I have with Tom has nothing to do with you," I said firmly, trying to hold my ground.

Without warning, Nick marched over to me and grabbed my neck. Panic surged through me as his grip tightened. My eyes went wide with fear and disbelief.

I reached up, grabbing his wrist and trying to pry his fingers away. "Nick—stop!" My voice came out strangled.

His grip only tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually hurt me. My vision blurred at the edges as I struggled to breathe.

But then something shifted in his eyes—a flicker of realization or maybe regret—and he released me abruptly. I stumbled back, gasping for air, rubbing my sore neck where his fingers had left their mark.

"You make it seem like I was the only one with the temper," Nick spat, his voice still seething with anger.

I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but I couldn't. I knew I played a part in the destruction between us. Denying it wouldn't change anything.

"You're right," I admitted, my voice steady. "But that's why we broke up. We weren't good for each other."

"And my dad?—"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, surprising myself with the sincerity in my words. "I'm genuinely sorry that I hurt you. That was never my intention."

Nick's eyes softened for a moment before hardening again. "I know him. I know my dad. You're telling me you don't fight with him too?"

"We had our moments," I said honestly. "But he never shot to kill the way you do. At the end of the day, I know he cared about me."

Nick scoffed, his expression twisting into a bitter smile. "He doesn't care about anyone," he said coldly. "You'll see."

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, but I refused to let them sink in. Nick's bitterness wasn't my burden to carry anymore.

“What does that mean?” I stiffened, trying to process Nick’s words.

“It means, break up with my dad or I’ll make your life a living hell, Ally,” he snarled, his eyes dark and menacing. “I’ll tell him everything. And that’ll be just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice trembling.

“Because you were mine first,” he snapped back, his face contorted with rage. “It’s not right that you can just leave me for my father.”

“I didn’t know—” I started, but he cut me off.

“But you do now, and you still won’t leave him,” he barked, stepping closer. The heat of his anger was palpable. "You-you got back with him. Even after everything. He hit me, Ally! I could have gotten hurt. It could have ruined my career!"

"Now, who's the one being dramatic?" I shot back, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "He only hit you because you hit me."

"I didn't mean to," Nick said, his voice cracking. "You got in the way. You weren't supposed to get in the way?—"

"I know that," I interrupted, my tone softening despite my anger. "I don't blame you for it. But I also don't blame him for reacting either."

"I'm his son," he said, his eyes pleading now. "He shouldn't hit his own blood."

"You're also a grown man," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.

Nick clenched his jaw, his face twisting with frustration and disbelief. "I can't believe you're this vindictive," he said through gritted teeth. "That you could be with him, knowing how it affects me."

"It has nothing to do with you?—"

"I'm his son!" he bellowed, the veins in his neck standing out. "It has everything to do with me!"

The force of his words hung heavy in the air between us, like a thick fog neither of us could see through. I took a deep breath, trying to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

"Nick," I said slowly, carefully choosing my words. "This isn't about you or your father. It's about me trying to move on from everything that's happened. And the fact that I can't because your mother is blackmailing me is infuriating."

"Move on?" he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "By jumping into bed with him?"

"It's not like that," I insisted, feeling the sting of his accusation.

"Then what is it like?" he demanded, stepping closer, his eyes boring into mine.

"It's complicated," I admitted, hating how inadequate that explanation sounded.

Nick laughed bitterly. "Complicated? That's your excuse?"

I bit my lip, struggling to find the right words to make him understand. But how could I explain something that even I was still trying to make sense of?

"I care about him," I finally said, meeting Nick's gaze head-on.

"More than you cared about me?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question sliced through me like a knife. How could I compare the two? My feelings for Thomas were tangled up in so many layers of grief and longing and guilt that they defied simple answers.

"It's different," I said softly.

Nick's eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Yeah," he said bitterly. "It's always different with him."

“I love him,” I confessed, the words surprising even myself. They felt raw and real in the open air.

Nick’s eyes widened in shock. “Take it back,” he whispered fiercely. “Do it. Now.”

“No,” I replied firmly. “I won’t. It’s the truth.”

Without warning, he slapped me across the face.

The sting of his hand left me reeling, my cheek burning from the impact. I blinked in shock, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Nick had never raised a hand to me before.

I took a step back, feeling a rush of emotions—anger, betrayal, and an overwhelming sadness for what we had become. The weight of his actions hung heavy in the air between us.

"I warned you, Ally," he murmured. "I warned you. What happens now is on you."