Page 48 of Bad Run

“But you’re the boss; couldn’t you change the rules?” I ask. Even I can hear desperation in my voice.

He can fix this. Right?

Dad leans back in his chair, places his elbows on the arms, and steeples his fingers under his chin. “I could, but I won’t. This is what your grandfather wanted, and I intend to abide by his wishes.”

Fighting my hammering heart, I manage to speak calmly. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You knew I wanted to work here. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“I knew that’s what you wanted when you were a child. And if I’m being honest, after you left for college, I never thought you would come back.”

“Why would you think that? You’re here. Mom and Juju are here. My brothers. Where else would I want to be?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were happier in New York. You had Jenna, the job at the PR firm, and you were dating that boy, what’s his name?” He snaps his fingers in thought.

“Collin,” I mumble. I dated Collin my freshman year of college, and it lasted all of nine months before I found him making out with another girl at a party.

“Collin. That’s his name. Anyway. I just assumed you would stay there, get married, have kids, and forget all about coming back to Los Angeles and working for the team.”

“You know that sounds incredibly sexist, right? Not all women want to get married and have babies. They want careers too.” My father is determined to break my heart and forever change how I view him. Whatever he says next will change our relationship forever.

“Don’t start that with me. Of course, I know women can do whatever they want. But there is nothing wrong with traditional values.”

He didn’t outright say it, but I know he believes it. Other women can have careers, just not his daughter.

“So, then, that’s it? I can’t be the marketing exec unless I’m married.”

“That’s correct.”

Tears sting my eyes. Not from disappointment, but from anger. Anger at my father for not having the balls to get rid of a ridiculous, incredibly sexist tradition. One he could easily change but won’t. I’m also angry at my grandfather for being a misogynist pig and turning my father into his mirror image.

As I stand, I grab the stack of papers, my curiosity piqued at what else my dumbass grandfather wrote into his will. “Okay, then. I’ll just be headed back to my cubicle, where we female Montgomerys belong.”

“Gwenny, don’t be like that,” my father chides.

“How do you want me to be, Dad?” I snap, losing my cool.

“Not upset with me. This was all your grandfather.”

“And yet, you’re the one who hurt me. You’re the one unwilling to change things.”

Disgusted with my father, I exit his office without a backward glance as he calls my name, asking me to come back.

There is no way I can spend another second in his presence without yelling at him. Honestly, I’m not sure if I will ever see my father as anyone other than the man who crushed my dreams.

sixteen

Lance

Present

What the fuck am I doing?

I’ve become a full-fledged stalker.

I’m not kidding.

Like a creep in the shadows, I’m standing behind a column by the stadium entrance, lurking, just to catch one last glimpse of Gwen as she flits around the stadium working before I hit the road for a series of games in Colorado.

Even though we came to a truce in the closet, Gwen still doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. She hasn’t asked me to do any PR stuff with her. Nothing.