I glanced down at her and smiled. “And I did, didn’t I?”
She nodded enthusiastically, her ponytails hitting my chin.
I smoothed a hand over her hair, still smiling—and then I looked up.
The smile dropped before I could stop it.
Dad was walking toward us, his steps measured, that half smile fixed in place…the one that he used when he was trying to impress someone. Usually he wore a jersey to my games, buttonight he was dressed up. Dark jeans, a. crisp button-down, his watch polished and cufflinks gleaming.
Strange.
Beside him was a man I didn’t recognize, dressed in a tailored suit with a clipboard under one arm and slicked-back hair. He looked like a contract given human form.
I peered behind them, expecting my mom and brothers to be somewhere. They always came. Even if it meant five hours in the car, even if it meant getting home at two a.m., they showed up—every single game. Mom with her orange scarf and hoarse voice. The boys in face paint, yelling my number like lunatics.
I didn’t see them, though.
“Nice finish,” Dad said as he reached us, his voice smooth…and weird. “That last touchdown—you made it look effortless.”
“Thanks,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
He motioned to the man beside him. “This is Kenton Hale. He’s been helping me with a few things.”
Kenton stepped forward, offering a hand. “Good to meet you, Matthew. How’s the ankle holding up?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Fine.”
He smiled, polite and unreadable. “You looked solid out there. Strong close.”
“Appreciate it.”
Dad’s hand landed on Lizzie’s shoulder. “We were just about to grab dinner. Thought you’d want to join us.”
Before I could answer, Lizzie gasped like he’d told her a secret. “Please, Matty? Daddy said we’re going somewherereallynice! They have chocolate cake with sprinkles.”
I looked down at her. She was practically bouncing, tugging at my arm with both hands, her face glowing with that mix of hope and sugar-fueled joy that made her impossible to resist.
“Please?” she begged again, her grin wide. “You have to come with us!”
I couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at my mouth. “When do I not, princess?”
She squealed, wrapping her arms tight around my waist. “I knew you’d say yes!”
“I’m predictable,” I said, smoothing a hand over her hair again.
Dad’s smile returned, faint but satisfied. “Car’s waiting out front.”
Lizzie skipped ahead toward the exit, humming. Kenton followed at a polite distance, clipboard still under his arm, every inch the polished stranger.
I lingered for a second, my gaze drifting back to Dad.
He did look good…sharper than I’d seen him in months. The kind of detail work he only bothered with when there was something to gain.
The sight made something tight twist in my chest.
I always went to these dinners. Every home game. They were never about celebration—just long, uncomfortable nights at overpriced restaurants where he ordered the steak, the wine, the dessert, and I paid the check without argument.
It was routine by now. A quiet transaction disguised as family time.
