I stretch my leg out in front of me, rubbing the aching knee. I let out a sigh of relief as I get a brief, painless second.

This is not the fucking job for me. I know it, and every single day I’m just counting down the hours until I can go home and ice this fucking aching joint. Even if I do my exercises every morning, standing around all day just totally ruins whatever progress I’m trying to make.

I ask myself for the hundredth time what I’m doing here. I should be out on the floor working right now instead of sitting on a stack of pill crates, not sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

It’s been a week since I last saw Addie. I went to her house in the middle of the night on a whim, mostly because I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see her, especially after that conversation with Eleanor, and clearly it worked out.

I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t think she’d come out like that, or that we’d end up fucking the way we did. But that was the best possibly result, and I know it’s what I really wanted all along.

I can still feel her and taste her. Every day I wake up thinking about her. She’d been busy with work and Cara, and I’ve been stuck peddling shitty fake pills, so we haven’t had any time to see each other again. But we’ve been texting constantly, and whenever I close myt eyes at night, the memory of her body comes back to me.

“Will.”

My head snaps up. I realize that I was just lost in thought again, daydreaming about Addie. Tim’s staring at me with that ugly little frown of his. I can’t help but notice how much he resembles a rat, with his little mouth pushed back into a snarl.

“Yeah, boss?”

“What are you doing?”

I shrug a little bit and stretch my leg. “Taking a break.”

“I didn’t realize you had any breaks left. I thought you took your fifteen earlier.”

I shrug again. “Need to get off my feet. Just a little hockey injury acting up.”

“Hockey injury? Will, you can’t just sit around in the back, okay.”

“Sure, I get it.” I stand up slowly, wincing at the pain.

Tim sighs dramatically. “And now you’re acting like your knee hurts just to get out of trouble, aren’t you?”

I stare at him. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

His eyes go a little wide and I know I just made a mistake. “Please don’t curse,” he says, anger starting to build even more. “I’m going to have to write you up.”

“Write me up?” I laugh a little. “For sitting?”

“And for insubordination.”

“Oh cut the shit, Tim,” I say, and savor the look on his face. I know I’m out of control but I can’t help it. I’ve been wanting to tell off this rat faced dickhead since my first day on the job. “You’re a little dictator in this piece of shit store. And you know what? That’s fine, you can have your tiny, pathetic domain.”

“You better watch yourself,” he warns. “I don’t care if you’re the boss’s son, nobody talks to me that way.”

“I do, you piece of shit.” I step toward him and he shrinks back, afraid I’ll hit him. I don’t feel good about that, but I smile anyway.

“You’re going to be suspended!” he says, eyes wide, nostrils flared. “You’re going to get fired!”

“No, I’m not,” I say. “Because I quit this piece of shit job.”

He stares at me as I take off my uniform shirt. I toss it onto the ground and walk away from him wearing just my white undershirt.

Jamal stares at me as I come out onto the floor. “Yo, Jamal,” I call out.

He walks over. “What’s up, man?”

“I quit this shitty job. You’re cool though. Have a good life.”

“Alright man,” he says, laughing. “You take it easy, okay?”

I nod and leave the store without looking back.

Ten minutes later, alone in my truck, I know I just fucked up.

That job wasn’t great, but it was my first real job. I quit it on a whim, basically throwing a tantrum like a little baby. “Fuck,” I say, hitting the steering wheel. “Fucking fuck.”

I sigh and lean back. I should’ve just sucked it up, dealt with my asshole boss, and made some more money. I have a decent stash still saved away, and I know I could get my own place, but I wanted to make sure I’d be totally comfortable financially before making that step. Now I don’t know how I’m going to prove to Addie that I’ve changed, especially considering I just acted like an immature cock.

“Fucking fuck,” I say again, sighing this time. I drive back to my father’s house, dreading this part.

I park the truck and head inside. My father’s in the family room, drinking some whisky and watching a basketball game. He grunts a hello when I walk by, which is more than I usually get. I head upstairs to change before giving him the bad news.

I know what he’ll say. I’m ready to hear it. He’ll flip out, tell me I’m a failure and a loser, and I’ll take it. I deserve it, honestly. I acted like a loser. I’ll get my shit together after I take some more verbal abuse from my father, I guess as my own punishment to myself.

I take a deep breath and let it out. I grab my phone and text Addie before facing the music. “I just quit my job.”

She doesn’t answer right away, so I toss my phone onto my bed and walk downstairs slowly.

My father looks up as I approach. “Just the man I wanted to see,” he says, standing. He’s got a smile on his face, which I guess means he hasn’t heard about what happened yet.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” I say.

“Actually, I need to talk to you, first.” He walks into the kitchen glass in hand and I follow him. I sit on a stool in front of the counter as he pours himself another drink and fills up a glass for me, shoving it across the granite with a raised eyebrow.

I take it, not sure what to say. He’s never offered me a drink before, let alone smiled at me like this. It’s like living in an alternate reality.

“Look, I heard you were doing good at work,” he says to me. “I know I’ve given you shit, and you deserved it, but I’m happy you’re finally getting it together.”

I cringe and shake my head. “Dad, listen.”

“No, listen to me. I want you to keep working hard, keep learning the business. One day, I won’t be around, you know? Someone has to take over the company. I want that person to be you, if you’re interested.”

“Dad,” I say, shaking my head, unable to meet his gaze.

“What?” His tone’s starting to shift. “I just made you a big offer, and you just say ‘dad’ like it’s nothing?”

“I quit today.”

He stares at me silently. His fingers are turning white around the glass.

“You did what?” he asks finally.

“I quit.” I shake my head. “It was stupid, but I quit.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

I cringe a little bit. “It just wasn’t a good fit.”

“Not a good fit?” He stares at me and spits out a laugh. “You ungrateful fucking cunt. You pathetic little failure. I was almost proud of you for once, but that was a stupid fucking mistake.” He throws back his drink violently.

“I get it. I shouldn’t have quit, but it happened.”

“You’re going back and begging Tim to rehire you,” he says icily.

“No,” I answer, surprising myself.

“What?”

“No,” I say again. “I’m not working there. I’m sorry dad. I know you liked having me working for your company, but it’s just not for me.”

“You asshole,” he growls. He throws his glass onto the ground, smashing it. “You little piece of shit.” He’s turning red, practically shaking with rage.

I stand up and back away from him. “I’m sorry, dad. I’ll find a new job.”

“And a new place to live.”

I stop moving. “What?”

“Get the fuck out. Do you hear me? Get the fuck out of my house, you ungrateful little prick. You want to go back and play hockey? You pathetic loser? Go play hockey. Go do it somewhere else. Go back to Russia, you little cocksucker.”

I keep backing away from him. I’ve seen him angry, I’ve seen him rage, but never like this. He’s about to hit me, I can see it in his eyes. He wants to do it so badly. The only thing stopping him is the fact that I’m bigger, younger, and stronger, and he’s half drunk. I could knock him out easily.

“Get the fuck out,” he screams at me.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “I’ll be gone in an hour.”

“Fuck off, you cunt.”

I turn away from him and head upstairs.

As I pack, I feel liberated. It’s strange, but I’m ready. I have nowhere to go, no job or any prospects, but it doesn’t matter. I have money, I have a truck, and I have a future. That’s all that matters. I should never have come back to my father’s house. That was my biggest mistake.

When I finish gathering up my stuff, I finally grab my phone. There ar ea few missed calls from Addie and three texts.

Will, what happened?

Are u okay?

Will? Are u ok? Is it your dad?

I text her back.

I’m fine. He kicked me out, but it’s for the best. I’ll call you later.

I hit send, slip my phone into my pocket, toss my duffel over my shoulder, and head downstairs. My father’s back in his chair now, calmed and with a new drink. Shards of glass still glitter on the kitchen floor, whisky floating around them like a lake.

“I’m leaving,” I say.

“Good,” he says. He slowly looks at me. “And don’t come back.”

I hesitate before nodding. “Bye, dad.”

He doesn’t answer. He just turns to the TV. I smile to myself, walk outside, toss my duffel into the bed, and climb into the cab. I start the engine and drive off, finally fucking free, after all these years.