“That rugby player is fucking her,” the fuckwank who wanted her to go into business with him says.
I eye him.
He steps backward and trips over Deedee, who’s rushing out here with Miranda and three of my teammates behind her.
“He had Ziggy trapped out here,” I say to Fletcher. “Murder him.”
“On it, Captain,” Fletcher replies.
“Can’t wait,” Silas adds.
“Oh, wow, that’s bad,” Tatum says.
“You don’t issue orders here anymore,” Roland says to me, but Fletcher and Silas have each grabbed one of the fuckwank’s arms, and they’re dragging him out of the maze, muttering things to him that I can’t hear while Tatum tags along.
“Stop it,” Ziggy says.
“I willnotstop it,” Roland roars at her. “There are goddamn rules for a reason.”
“Roland,” Deedee snaps while Ziggy tumbles backward into me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur to her. I squeeze her waist. “It’ll be okay.”
“Get your filthy handsoff my daughter,” Roland repeats.
So this is Ziggy’s stepdad when he’s mad.
I know a thing or two about angry fathers.
“She doesn’t belong to you,” I tell him. “You gonna make her pick? I’m not gonna make her pick. My world, she gets all of us. She gets an even bigger family to love her and the baby. But you wanna make her pick? Go ahead. Tell her she has to pick. Tell me I’m fired. Tell me I’m traded. See how well that works out for you. Everywhere. Your family. Theteam. Your standing in the community. Go on. Tell her she has to pick.”
He glares at me.
“Holt,” Ziggy whispers.
I squeeze her waist again. “I love you,” I whisper in her ear.
She whimpers and looks up at me, and my heart cracks in two.
I have to choose.
That’s what she’s thinking.
The thing is—her stepdad’s mad. He’s having a full-blown temper tantrum.
But he’s been good for her.
He’s not the shit my father was. He loves her in his own way. He loves her the best he can.
Whose relationship with their parents isn’t dysfunctional? Hers is at least salvageable.
It will be okay.
That’s what I’m trying to telegraph back to her.
I love you and this will be okay.
But I don’t know if it will.
