“You’re ready to apologize?”
The lines around his eyes tighten, and I try not to laugh. Getting an apology from Jon is as likely as the sun rising in the west. He never believed he was in the wrong. Not when he screamed for hours about my poor game performances or pushed me past my limits. He was always doing what he deemed best for my career.
Which was code forhiscareer.
“I’ve got some potential clients Ineedto sign, Cade, and your silence is loud. Athletes are paying attention to it. ProPact Agency is even starting to question things.”
I knew there was an ulterior motive somewhere.
“You’re here because you need me to speak to the media?”
“No! I came here to talk,” he says quickly. “But I also wanted to ask you to break your silence. A quote would go so far coming from you. And after all I did to get you where you are now, I think it’s worth some compassion. You could—”
“You think I owe you a glowing review?”
“Honestly, yeah. You need to grow up, Cade. Stop pouting because I pushed you to be the best. We were a team! Me and you. We could’ve made it all the way to the top together, but you couldn’t handle the pressure. You were supposed to be my shining achievement.”
My calm begins to slip. “I’m not a trophy, Jon. Or a title you can use. Managing my career was your job, but you were creating a version of me that madeyoulook good.”
“And made you successful!” he shouts, revealing the real Jon Sweeney. Not the calm guy he tried to emulate when he stepped onto my porch. “All I did was take the title and image you came to me with and made it better. Stronger. Irreplaceable. The league wanted the golden boy, not Cade Owens, so that’s what I gave them!”
“But I lost myself in the process!” I shout before I can stop myself.
In the sleepless nights filled with critiques and stuffing my brain with film and spray charts until I was fuzzy-headed and barely able to function. All because I felt as if my image was nonnegotiable.
“All I did was help you become the best shortstop you could be and the player the league adored. And you got everything you wanted. Didn’t you?” He gestures at the house behind me. “The big house back in your home state. The major league contract and salary. When will you realize thatIdid this?”
I am certain Shay would never say that to any of her clients. Taking credit for her athletes’ achievements would never cross her mind.
Jon isn’t half the agent she is, and he never will be.
“If you got a quote from me, I can promise it wouldn’t save you.”
The skin under his eye twitches. “And what if I lose everything? What if I don’t get these clients I need? What does that say about you?”
“That I have boundaries. And when they get crossed repeatedly, I can hold the line.” I flash him a real smile. Nothing like the one I gave him for years. “It’s called growth.”
He staggers backward. “You’re gonna let me fall like this?”
It’s weird how the question calms me, anger and betrayal dissipating as I look down at the man standing on my porch. Jon always seemed sopowerful back then. He acted larger than life, so I believed he was. Now I know better, and I’m done with the manipulation.
“You’re not falling, Jon. This is what we call dealing with the consequences of your own actions.” I check my buzzing phone. “Your time is up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a party to go to.”
Stepping back into the house, I close the door behind me and don’t look back. It’s only when I hear a roar of anger that I take a deep breath.
Good riddance.
Chapter Thirty
“What if everyone hatesit?” I despise how whiny I sound, but I’m freaking the fuck out.
“Why would a group of athletes hate mini golf and fajitas?” Holly asks. She heaves her body onto the front desk, even though the lone employee has asked her not to four times. “I personally am over the freaking moon about tonight.”
GloGolf Gardens looks like an ethereal garden party and a night arcade had a baby. Plants, fake and real, grow from every surface, mushrooms bounce, and fairy lights stretch overhead. Everything is neon green, electric purple, or blacklight blue with random splashes of coral and orange—colors that make Mallory’s closet look normal.
All-client dinners aren’t the norm, but I wanted one night with them. With Cade being cleared, he’ll be traveling tomorrow for a series. Lionel and Brett are starting to prepare for preseason. Holly and Victoria have the night off. The only one missing is Delilah, who’s currently in Montreal.
Mini golf was my choice, but now it seems childish.
