“He didn’t know who I was! It just happened!” I shout.
And then I break.
Ugly sobs rack my chest and steal my breath. I cry for Cohen. For the lie. For the fear that I’ve ruined everything before I even got to build something real.
My dad’s anger evaporates instantly.
“Hey—hey. No, sweetheart.”
He pulls me against his chest, wrapping me in his massive arms. I feel small. Protected. Safe in a way I haven’t felt in weeks.
“Shhh. Dad’s here. I’m not mad at you.”
We stay like that until my tears finally slow.
“I screwed up, Dad,” I hiccup. “I made a huge mess.”
He holds me tighter.
“Do you like that boy?” he asks. Resigned—but gentle.
I pull back just enough to look at him.
“I’m afraid I do.”
Julian Heart sighs—a long, deep breath that feels like it comes from the foundation of the earth itself. He tips his head back, staring up at the sky like he’s asking the universe for patience.
“He’s an idiot,” Dad says. “He makes me furious—God, you have no idea. Every time he opens his mouth in a press conference, I lose a year off my life.”
Then he pauses, meeting my eyes.
“But he’s no more of an idiot than I was at his age.” A beat. “Or than I probably still am.”
I blink, confused, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “What?”
Dad gives me a reluctant half-smile.
“He’s a good kid, underneath it all. Yeah, he’s arrogant. He makes questionable choices. And I regularly fantasize about making him run punishment laps until he throws up.” His mouth twitches. “But I care about him. I would’ve kicked him off the team a long time ago if I didn’t see his value. And I don’t just mean on the field.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring off for a second.
“And don’t you ever tell him this—because his ego would become a public safety hazard—but I’m proud of how he handled that day with the press.”
He looks back at me, serious now.
“I didn’t know you were the girl, but even then… I was proud. He was in real trouble. His career was on the line. And he didn’t name her. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t call it a mistake like everyone told him to. He took the hit.”
He reaches out and smooths my hair.
“Does that sound like a bad man to you?”
His words hit me straight in the chest.
He’s right. Cohen protected me. Always. Even when he didn’t know me. Even when I insulted him.
“No,” I whisper. “He isn’t.”
Dad studies me for a moment.
