I squeezed back, hard. Fury bloomed hot and protective in my chest, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I understood now why Matty had been dreading dinner.
The next course came and went in an awkward blur of silverware and forced conversation. Ronnie had, of course, ordered the most expensive thing on the menu—a tomahawk steak that could’ve fed a small village—and dug into it like he was making a point.
Alice tried to smooth the jagged edges of the table. She smiled, too bright, and reached for a story. “You know,” she began, “when Matty was little, he used to run around the backyard with a football that was bigger than his head. He’d trip over his own feet, but he’d never let go of that ball. Not once.”
Matty chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I had my priorities early.”
“Uh-huh,” Barrett piped up around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “And you also used to practice tackling the mailman.”
“Barrett,” Matty groaned, dropping his face into his hands.
Alice laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, it’s true. And sometimes he’d do it without a diaper.”
“Mom,” Matty said, dragging the word out in horror.
Lizzie dissolved into giggles. “You peed on the mailman!”
“I wastwo!” Matty protested, voice cracking. “And you weren’t even alive yet. So how would you know?”
“Mommy told me,” Lizzie retorted.
For a brief, flickering second, the whole table was smiling. The kind of laughter that felt almost normal…until the sound of a fork clinking against porcelain cut through it.
Ronnie’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So,” he said, leaning back against the booth, “have you thought any more about the offer?”
The warmth drained from Matty’s face in an instant.
I glanced between them.Offer?
Matty’s jaw flexed. “Can we not?” he said tightly. “My answer was already no.”
Ronnie raised a brow, unconcerned. “It’s a big opportunity, son. Things like this don’t come around twice.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that a few times now,” Matty snapped, his voice loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby tables. “And I said no the first time and the second time and the third time for a reason.”
Alice’s hand landed on her husband’s wrist, gentle but firm. “Ronnie,” she murmured, “not here.”
His dad leaned in, eyes bright. “Gatorade hasn’t called yet, have they? Neither has Puma. Or Yeti. Hell, not even Taco Bell has called. They’re throwing money at kids half your size. I read Parker Davis pulled in over a million last spring just off endorsements.”
Matty’s jaw ticked.
“And Jace?” his dad went on, as if he couldn’t see what he was doing to his son. “He’s a wide receiver, not even the face of the team, and he’s pulling in NIL deals left and right. Brand partnerships, commercials, interviews—hell, he’s on a damn billboard downtown. This deal could be bigger than all of those.”
Alice shifted uncomfortably, her smile brittle. “Ronnie?—”
But he steamrolled right over her. “You’re an idiot if you turn this down. A fucking idiot, son. One bad hit, and it’s all gone, Matthew. You can’t waste the moment. Parker knows it. Jace knows it. Do you?”
“Enough,” Matty growled. “Weren’t you so excited about my last NIL deal just a week ago…when it meant I could send you money to fix your…what was that again…your water heater? Or was it your car?”
The mockery in his voice was unmistakable—controlled, deliberate, meant to sting. And it did. His father’s smile faltered, just for a second, before settling back into something colder.
His siblings were staring at the two of them with wide eyes, and Alice tried desperately to change the subject. “Ophelia, what’s your favorite book?”
Ronnie wasn’t finished, though. “Pretty girls like Ophelia don’t look twice at athletes unless there’s something in it for them. You going to risk losing her when you lose everything else?”
The insult cracked something inside me.
