I force a laugh, desperate to lighten it. “It was an expression.”
His eyes go icy. “You told me you were staying with a friend.”
“I am,” I say quickly.
His brow lifts in pure disbelief. “This is your friend?”
My brain races.
I need an angle. A story. A reason.
Something that doesn’t sound insane. Something that isn’twe got drunk and married in Vegas and now we don’t know how to undo it.
Jake’s voice cuts in, low and steady. “Coach, if you want to talk—”
“I want to know why my daughter is in your house,” my dad says, sharp. “And why she’s using married language.”
I feel like I’m about to throw up.
I glance at Jake for half a second.
He’s looking at my dad, calm on the outside, but I can see the tension in the way his hands flex once at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to do something.
My father takes a step further into the house, like he owns it.
Like he owns us.
“Are you sleeping with him?” he demands.
My heart stutters.
“Dad,” I say, trying to sound annoyed instead of terrified. “That’s not—”
“Answer me,” he barks.
I swallow hard.
Jake shifts slightly, just a fraction closer to me, like he’s ready to step in.
It makes my chest tighten.
It also makes my dad’s gaze sharpen.
He notices.
His eyes narrow, his attention shifting fully to Jake now. He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Are. You. Sleeping. With. Her?”
I step forward automatically, panic surging. Trying to stop this before it escalates. Before everything explodes.
But Jake beats me to it. “Coach,” he says, his voice calm. Steady. Controlled in a way that makes my father’s anger glance off instead of sinking in. “We should sit down.”
My dad lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Excuse me?”
“Sit down,” Jake repeats, steady. “And talk about this calmly.”
I glance at Jake, startled by the choice of words. Calmly. As if my father has ever been calm about anything that threatens his control.
My dad’s eyes narrow like he’s deciding whether to explode harder or accept the suggestion just to prove he’s in charge either way.
