I throw back another drink despite Francesca's disappointed look. I can't tell which is fueling my drinking more, her face as she looks at me like some broken child or my phone vibrating as both my parents continue to berate me and remind me I was never wanted. Either way I hold up my empty cup, signaling the bartender for another. I already know I am going to be hurting at practice tomorrow, might as well make the pain worth it.

"Same thing," he asks, coming closer to grab the empty cup.

"Yeah."

"No," Francesca interrupts. "You're done and we are going home."

"We aren't going anywhere," I correct. "If you want to leave, no one is stopping you."

The bartender looks between us before slinking away. I can't even fault him for it because Francesca looks like she wants to reach out and strangle me. If it wasn't a look I grew accustomed to at the beginning of our friendship it might scare me more. But from the outside looking in I would not want to be in the middle of this either.

"Ryder please," she tries the softer approach again. "Can we just go back to your house? If you want to drink there I won't stop you. If you want to be alone once you're home fine but until I know you're home safe I am not fucking leaving you." Her voice catches at the end and every ounce of hatred I have for my parents is monetarily replaced by the overwhelming urge to not be the reason she cries.

"I don't want to be alone," I mumble looking down at my feet. I can't handle her sad look for me anymore. I don't need sympathy, sympathy won't change things.

Francesca steps between my legs and I wrap my arms around her leaning my head against her shoulder. I can hear her telling the bartender to close my tab but I don't pay close attention as her fingers skim up and down the back of my neck. "Ready?" she asks softly.

I lift my head and suddenly we are face to face. So close if I move my nose will brush hers. My eyes dart down to her lips and she pokes her tongue out wetting her bottom lip. Her lips are pale pink and her breath smells like the lime water she had been drinking the past few hours. "Ryder," she breathes, snapping me from the drunken mess I was about to create if I closed the gap and kissed her.

"Ready." I get up, stumbling a little but Francesca wraps an arm about me to steady me. When we get outside the cold air feels great against my skin. Francesca is holding my hockey jacket while I walk toward the car in just a t-shirt and sweatpants. I get my footing enough to detach myself from her, distance I need to get my racing heart under control again. I really need to be more careful drinking around her because 2 or 3 more drinks and I don't think I would have been able to stop myself.

I get into the passenger seat of my own car, which feels weird. Francesca climbs into the driver's seat but given our height difference she can't reach the wheel or the pedals. "I have to adjust the seat."

"I figured," I laugh. It takes her over a minute to get the seat in the correct position before she starts the car. The poor girl is clearly very nervous as she clutches the wheel until her knuckles are white, with the car still in park. "Beck, you do know how to drive right?"

"Yes," she shoots back with her sassy attitude that I adore. "It's just a new car, I need a minute to get used to it."

I keep quiet, letting her get used to the car until she finally puts it in drive. She barely goes over 10mph as we roll out of the parking lot. I don't even think her foot is on the gas we are driving so slow but I don't push her to drive faster not wanting to make her any more nervous than she already is.

The ride is silent as she continues to slowly drive toward the house, taking the longest route possible. I can feel my phone vibrating but I ignore the texts coming in rapidly. If I don't look I can pretend the texts are from Bray and Stan instead. I close my eyes hoping it will help with the fact the world feels like it's spinning, mostly from the alcohol, but also because my life no longer feels like it is mine. I feel so out of control I just want everything to stop for a minute.

The silence of the car is interrupted with my phone ringing. It is connected to my car so I reach out for the touch screen on the dashboard to end it but my shaky fingers click the green accept button by mistake. As the sound of the call connecting fills the car I go rigid. Francesca's eyes are huge but she stares forward continuing to drive.

"Did I use words too big for your simple brain to understand? Is that what is taking you so long to answer?"

"No," I bite back. I can't remember the last time I stuck up for myself with my parents but I don't want Francesca thinking I am pathetic, even if I actually am.

"Trevor, can we wrap this up, I am going to miss my show," my mothers shrill voice interrupts.

"Samantha shut up, I want to know why this moron has no respect. All the sacrifices we made basically doing everything for him his entire life, I demand respect."

"I was in a meeting with my coach, I should have told you but I didn't think it would be as long as it was."

Francesca looks at me quickly as I lie before focusing back on the road in front of her.

"No manners, this is your fucking fault Samantha. Raised this ingrate. I am going to be supporting both of you until I die because you will never be able to get your heads out of your asses."

"Last I checked, my father is the one who gave you your first job. You'd be nothing without my father hiring you when you were nothing more than some lonely loser. I made you something you would have never achieved without me."

"Do you ever shut your fucking fat mouth you stupid bitch!" my dad yells causing me to flinch. I am not home but I know my dad is in his office while my mom is in some silk robe leaning against the doorframe. She is so used to his screaming she doesn't even blink anymore. When I used to shrink back as a kid while he screamed she would laugh and tell me I needed to get thicker skin.

"Anyways, Carson we had your agent get in touch so the team knows you'll be joining for the summer, something you should have taken care of a while ago which, of course, yet again, we had to do for you. He even got them to make a tweet tomorrow about it so everyone will know."

"I can't wait to show Darla tomorrow at yoga. Her kid just tore his ACL, it looks like his basketball career is over. Sucks, she really could have used the money for a facelift and a tummy tuck too."

"Also," my dad interrupts. "You will be coming home for your birthday, we are throwing you a birthday and going away party. Your mother will find you an outfit she deems appropriate so you don't embarrass us in front of our friends."

"Ok sir."

"Alright, that is all."

"Wait," I call out. I want to kick myself immediately but the worlds come tumbling out before I can stop them. "Are you coming to my game this weekend? It is a home game and the division finals. Everyone else's parents are coming."

I am met with laughs from both my parents. My eyes sting with unshed tears. I can't remember the last time I cried over my parents but the hurt is only amplified as Francesca covers her mouth horrified by their reaction. I don't wait for the line to drop dead or the car to stop as I reach for the handle to open the door. I need to get out, I feel like I can't breathe.

"Ryder!" Francesca shouts as I finally get the door open and jump out of the car which she thankfully had stopped already. I begin walking in the opposite direction of my house to I don't know where. I hear a car door behind me shut followed by running feet but I don't turn around.

"Ryder wait!" she calls out, skidding in front of me to cut me off.

"Just leave me alone," I beg.

"No," she tells me firmly, not wavering as I try to move around her.

"Francesca, I don't need you to take care of me. Contrary to popular belief I can actually take care of myself!" I am yelling, just like he does, at Francesca who hasn't done a single thing but be a good friend all night, but I can't stop yelling which absolutely terrifies me. "I don't need you or my team or them or anyone else. I can decide what is best for me and make my own choices in life! It is my fucking life!"

Francesca stands in front of me as I scream not backing down or faltering as I throw my hat to the ground. When I have yelled so much my voice is raw she gently picks up my hat, dusting all the dirt off of it. "I am not going to apologize for caring about you. You want a bottle of water so you can continue screaming at me fine, but Carson Ryder, you can't push me away."

I swallow a huge lump in my throat. I have two choices in this moment: continue to be like him, rip her down until she hates me because unlike my mother Francesca would never take disrespect from anyone, or break the cycle. My hands are shaking like a leaf but I reach out a hand which she happily takes. Neither of say a word on the walk back to the car, or on the rest of the drive home, or the entire way up to my room.

I crawl into bed leaning against my headboard with my knees pulled to my chest. Francesca takes off her jacket and shoes before crawling next to me pushing my knees from my chest and sitting herself on my lap with her arms wrapped around my neck. I am still shaking but not as badly as I was before.

"Well, looks like we will both be in New York this summer." I let out a bitter laugh as I finally accept that they won. Yet again they are making my choices for me without any regard for what I want.

"I am sorry if I am out of line, but I hate them," she says softly. I feel a little drop of water hit my neck and then some more as more of her tears come.

"Me too," I sigh, holding her as tightly as possible.

"They don't deserve you. You are the perfect son Ryder, they should be so fucking lucky to have a son like you. You are smart and talented and much kinder than they ever will be." She lifts her head off me to look me in the face. She is talking a mile a minute as tears fall faster and faster down her face. The angrier she gets at them the faster and louder she talks until she is basically screaming how evil they are, how she can't understand why they can't see how great I am.

"Beck, breath," I yell over her own yelling. She gasps for air trying to fill her lungs but I know the feeling, when you're so mad you just can't seem to get enough air with each breath.

"I hate them Ryder, I hate them," she whispers, tears still streaming down her face. I take the bottom of my shirt and wipe her nose. She cringes but I don't care, she can use me as her tissue any day. "Have they always been like that?"

I nod. "I was 5 the first time my dad said he wished they'd gotten rid of me. I am pretty sure the only reason he didn't was because that was when my dad was still working for my mom's dad. My grandpa wanted grandkids and since he was paying my dad's six figure salary what he wanted he got. It wasn't long until my dad got recruited by an even bigger and better company which made me pointless. I spent my entire life trying to be enough. I got the best grades, was the best player on every team I was on, always cleaned my room, never acted out, tried to be the most polite kid always. Whatever their friends' kids did, I tried to do better. Everyone became competition. And yet still I was nothing more than a burden."

"But why don't they come to your games? You're the best center in the division, potentially the best in the entire NCAA, why wouldn't they come so they can brag about you?" I am neither of those things but I won't correct her. In my parents' eyes I realize I will never be enough but in Francescas I am always better than I deserve to be seen.

"They hate hockey. It interrupted their life. It was smelly and gross and full of people who were below them. They let me play because I was good and it got people's attention. Everyone praised my parents for how good I was even when I was 6. They went to games mostly because everyone would judge them if they didn't and to them appearances were everything. As I got older I had teammates who could drive me, we had a team bus who brought us to games. The better I was, the less involved they had to be. They have come to one of my college games and it was the game after I announced I was entering the draft because NHL scouts and other important people were going to be there and again..."

"Appearances," she finishes for me.

"Yeah."

"What about this summer? I kind of figured out by now you'll be joining the Islander, but why do you not seem happy about it?"

"I am, well a part of me is, but I wanted to make the decision myself. Instead they called the team and deciding for me." She nods in understanding. "I feel guilty," I confess.

"Why?" She wipes a few stray tears from my face, I hadn't even realized they escaped until now.

"I am complaining that I have to spend all summer playing hockey with an NHL team while my dad gives me $9,000 a month to live in New York without a worry in the world while you bust your ass. How does that not piss you off?"

"Ry, after what I heard tonight the money doesn't even begin to cover it. We grew up both struggling, just in different ways. Yeah, financially struggling is hard but I always had people there for me. Don't feel bad because your feelings are perfectly valid."

I nod as her words sink in. They aren't easy to swallow but I try to really take them to heart. Money isn't everything and I need to let go that I should be grateful that despite my parents' verbal abuse and neglect at least I had my rent paid for and a car.

"Where are you living in New York?"

"Great question," I laugh. "I told my dad I found a place but I was lying."

"Liar liar pants on fire," she sings.

"Yeah yeah I know I am a bad boy." Francesca's eyebrow raises as she gives me an 'oh really' look. "Inappropriate," I laugh tickling her side causing her to flail in my lap.

"No tickling," she yells, climbing away from me. "That is my cue to go now that you know my weakness."

"How are you getting home?" I ask. I worry about her, I will always worry about her. I guess that is one nice thing about this summer, I won't have to worry as much since we will be in the same state.

"Your car. Thanks for letting me borrow it. I will bring it to practice tomorrow. Night night hockey boy." My bedroom door slams shut before I can even process that she is taking my car. I don't care and honestly would have probably offered it to her for the night anyways but she really just took it. Tonight has been the weirdest rollercoaster of emotions but oddly enough I feel lighter now, something I think only Francesca can make me feel.