“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I knew that playing for that team, for any team, would set you on the wrong path.”
“Dad, it’s not like that.”
“No?” Rhett laughs darkly.
“If you’d give me a minute to explain?—”
He raises his voice with authority. “Time is money and my minutes are valuable. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. You’re going to forget about that silly show you’ve been filming and meet with your mother and me for lunch. Marlow is going to be there and you’re going to propose. We’ll get you married, get your grandfather’s estate settled, and carry on with our lives.”
“And if I say no?” I glance over my shoulder to the brownstone where Pippa sleeps peacefully, unaware that I’m falling from last night’s heights. The ground crumbles under my feet. My father holds certain strings in my life that are delicate, and if snipped, would cause greater difficulty for the Boston Bruisers than moon-gate.
“You know what will happen if you disobey me.”
“Why the sudden interest in my love life? What’s wrong with Pippa?” I ask.
Rhett’s expression sours. “First and foremost, I’m a businessman. You know that.”
No, he’s cold, calculating, and heartless. However, like it or not, I’m tethered to my father. I’m not thinking on my feet. No, I’m sitting on my #BruiserButt.
As if he’s won this round, he stalks back to the car. “See you at noon. My secretary will text you the dining information.”
As my father’s car pulls away, anger builds inside me. It’s an old, dark, festering rage that makes me regret certain choicesthat I made. But not about football and not about Pippa. Other things that, if not handled with care, could ruin lives.
My jaw tenses. Pressure squeezes the muscles in my neck. Without thinking, I stride up the steps to my brownstone, tear off my shirt, wrap it around my fist, and then break the glass to the front door.
I’ll figure out how to fix it later. I’ll figure out a lot of things. But right now I want to smash through this wall of frustration. Just as I’m about to punch the wall, a figure casts a slender shadow in the doorway.
Pippa’s mouth hangs slack.
My breath comes out in shards. Things were going so well and suddenly have gone sideways. Am I having a rash of weird luck?
“I’m guessing good morning isn’t what you want to hear.”
Wordlessly, I step toward her and wrap her in a hug, because as big of a man as I am, I need something soft to counter the hardness forming inside. I need an anchor. One of my grandfather’s sayings bobs into my mind, “When storms come up at sea, you have to learn how to sail or you’ll sink.”
I square my shoulders and tell Pippa I have to meet my parents for lunch.
“Great. I’ll go get ready.”
“I’m thinking it’s better if I meet them on my own.”
“Ordinarily, I’d agree, but I’m still your coach. Whatever appointments, events, or affairs you attend, I’m required to be there. But just think of me like wallpaper in the background.”
That’s the problem. I can’t think of her as anything but sunshine, even on a cloudy day. I have to figure out how to navigate turbulent waters and weather the storm before sailing to peaceful shores. But given my father’s comments, there’s no land in sight.
As I shower and get ready, I think about what he revealed about my grandfather, the famous Cap Collins, after he passed away.
Cap was the king of football in his heyday, who later went on to be a coach and then a team owner. As a kid, he was my real-life hero. Cap may as well have been Superman.
I can’t let my father ruin his legacy by exposing the documents that prove the team owner had given players sign-on bonuses beyond the salary cap for joining the team. There is also evidence that Cap influenced the outcomes of games with big money. I want to protect my grandfather, but knowing the truth and not going to the authorities right away when I learned of the crimes makes me guilty by association. I’d have to hang up my jersey if the scandal gets out. This would crush the guys. I’m already in hot water with Coach Hammer and Commissioner Starkowsky as it is—and I have a hunch the commish knows. Cap and Starkowsky had always been rivals and at each other’s throats.
What I’ve never fully understood is why Cap left his money to me. The old guy had a twisted sense of humor, for one thing. But he also added a stipulation—that I get married before I receive the money. Rylen’s dad did the same thing in his will—marry or no money.
What’s with old men, wealth, and marriage? Granted, Cap had wed his high school sweetheart and it had worked out well for them.
Something about it feels off, contrived. I want to marry for love, but no way that’ll happen if Pippa finds out my secrets.
My father holds the strings and the evidence of the scandal in his safe—a series of documents that prove what Cap had done all those years ago.
