Page 140 of Bad Run

Gwen

Present

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

This is not how I wanted my father to find out about me and Lance. Vomit rises, hot and sour, in my throat. I don’t know how my voice remained steady.

When I saw that article online, I knew he would go straight to Lance. I was trying to avoid this very situation, so I rushed to warn my husband. Then I planned on speaking to my father. Alone.

The responsibility falls on me, not on Lance. I should have spoken to my dad weeks ago, but I was too chicken. I feared his reaction. Too scared to admit my relationship with Lance had evolved into something more.

But I’m not afraid anymore.

Thirty silent seconds later, my father’s nostrils flare as he growls, “I’ll sit when I’m damn well ready.”

“Watch it,” Lance warns.

My father scoffs. “You’re the one who needs to watch it. Better pack your bags, Taylor, ’cause the first chance I get, I’m trading your ass to Timbuk-fucking-tu.”

“You can try,” Lance goads.

Before I can interject and put their arguing to an end, Anson does it for me. “Whoa. Let’s not be too hasty, gentlemen. Take a breath, and let’s talk this out like adults.”

“Don’t start with me, Anson.” My father turns to his team manager, who stands and places his hands in the air in surrender.

Leaving his desk, Anson walks over and situates himself between my father and me. “Ted, take a second before you say something else you’ll regret. You put me in charge of the team because you know and trust me. Don’t offer to trade any of my guys before talking to me, or I’ll walk.”

My father’s mouth opens and closes, struggling between shouting and listening. Eventually, my father nods.

“Good. Glad we agree. Now, since I know and respect you, I will give you a minute to speak with your daughter. Alone.”

“Hell no,” Lance shouts. “I do not agree to that. I’m not leaving here without my wife.” In a defensive stance, Lance crosses his arms over his chest.

“Stop saying that,” Dad grunts, his face turning red.

“Wife,” Lance snarls.

Anson points to the door. “Taylor, get your ass in that locker room or you’re benched. Believe me, this is for the best. Let them talk.”

Ignoring Anson and my scowling father, Lance grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him. Worry and anger mar his features, and his vivid blue eyes have gone icy. “Stay or go? What do you want me to do?”

What I want is for him to stay, but I need to handle this on my own. I won’t let my father bully Lance or try to harm his career. From the start, I knew I would go to bat for him, no matter the price.

“I’ve got this.”

He wraps me in his arms for a tight hug and whispers, “I hate leaving you.”

“I know. Me too. I’ll find you after, okay?” I say low enough for only him to hear.

He nods. “Okay, baby. You’ve got this.”

For him, I do.

I smile into his shoulder, breathing in his citrus and pepper scent and letting it calm my nerves. “Thanks for believing in me.”

“Always.” Lance places a soft kiss on my lips, then nails my father with a glare. His parting words are a warning. “Hurt her, and you’ll regret it.”

I watch Lance’s retreating form until Anson closes the door, both men firmly on the other side. The caution aimed at my father from the man I love has me grappling with tears. Even when it could hurt his career, Lance supports me. This knowledge fuels me as I face off with my father.