I feel Jake tense beside me.
This is it.
He doesn’t look at me when he answers.
“Yes,” he says evenly. “It’s serious. And I’m crazy about her.”
My heart twists in my chest.
He’s only saying it to sell the story. To protect us. To make it believable.
But the words land anyway.
And for one reckless second, I let myself wonder what it would feel like if they were true.
My father studies Jake’s face for a long moment, then finally shifts his gaze to me.
“And you,” he says. “This is what you want?”
My throat tightens.
I nod. “Yes.”
My dad’s expression changes again. The anger doesn’t vanish, but it recedes, curling back like a wave pulling away from the shore.
He exhales slowly.
His shoulders drop a fraction.
And that tiny movement feels like surviving a car crash.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, quieter now. Still sharp. Just less explosive.
I shrug, trying to make it seem harmless. “Because we knew you wouldn’t like it.”
His eyes flash. “Wouldn’t like it? Of course I don’t fucking like it. It’s my daughter and my team’s captain. But I suppose I’ll have to live with it, won’t I?”
He paces once, then stops in front of the window, staring out like he’s forcing himself to think instead of react.
“This,” he says at last, “is not ideal.”
I almost laugh.
Not ideal.
Jake’s voice cuts in, low and steady. “I understand.”
My dad studies him again and steps even closer to Jake.
The air in the room sharpens.
This is the part I’m most afraid of.
The part where my father decides to intimidate.
He stops within arm’s reach of Jake, towering, stare cold and precise.
“If you hurt her,” my dad says, voice low and deadly, “you will regret it.”
