Page 98 of Praising the Pitcher

But not before kissing her right on the lips and shooting her dad a death glare—one I hope says if he ever fucks with Gigi in the future, I’ll make sure he’s never seen or heard from again, before reluctantly, I follow my mom out of the room, staying close enough that if I hear him yelling, I can run in and drop his old ass.

Because damn right, I fucking will.

“She’ll be okay,” my mom whispers, patting my back, but in the next breath, she says, “I hate that fucking dickhead.”

“Same, Mom. Same,” I utter and sigh, my fists balling up, wishing I could go back in there and punch his smug face.

GIGI

Months ago, I probably would have taken the coward’s way out of this deal. I would have asked to not meet in person and done everything electronically, especially since that was an option. Part of me wanted to do that, and truth be told, I had even considered it last night and thought about cancelling this meeting altogether. Coming face-to-face with Cal Jacobs wasn’t high on my to-do list, but at the same time, in order to move on from him, I know what I’m about to do is necessary.

And hopefully … healing in some way.

“Well?” he grumbles, eyes cutting to mine with nothing but hate in them. “What is it? What is the point in this?”

He’s angry I’m taking control of the company and nothing else. He doesn’t give a shit that we haven’t talked in months. And he’d never be bothered to ask how my life is. There is no love when he looks at me.

At least before everything went completely to hell between us, I didn’t feel like he absolutely hated me. Now, it’s clear he does.

When I’m slow to respond, he chuckles, shaking his head and smirking. “There’s the Gigi I know. The one who can’t speak up for herself. The one who doesn’t have a strong enough backbone to actually be a boss and run a goddamn company.” With his last few words, his voice rises, and it’s obvious he’s agitated.

I study him before I clear my throat. “You’re wrong.” The two words come out sharp yet not overbearing. “I have a backbone. And I’ll do more for that company in the next month than you have ever. Because I’m not just a wannabe athlete, Cal. I am an athlete. A damn good one.” Normally, I’m not one to brag, but I’m channeling all the things Noah constantly reminds me of and laying them out there. “I’ll be a professional softball player someday, and I promise you, BOOMA shoes will rise to the top with me.”

At first, he stares at me in disbelief, but then, his eyes narrow and he sits forward in his chair, no doubt ready to attack me with the most vile words from deep down in his miserable soul. I stop him before he gets the chance.

“For years and years, I let the words you’d say sink in. I believed you for a while, you know. I thought … maybe I really wasn’t that good. And that the world would crumble if I missed one training session if I was sick. I thought, maybe I am weak. Perhaps I’m not cut out for this …” My words trail off, and I lift my chin. “And then I realized … fuck that.” My lip twitches when his head rears back at my words. “You gave me the tools growing up to play ball and train, sure, I’ll give you that.” I shake my head. “But you did not make me. You aren’t the reason I’m ranked the number one pitcher in college softball right now.” He doesn’t look shocked at that last part, and I’m sure it’s because he’s seen the rankings. He’s paid attention to softball stats long before I got into college, and I’m sure that never stopped. “I’m the reason. It’s my arm throwing hard. It’s my mind tuning out the world. It’s my body training daily to get stronger.”

With every word that leaves my mouth, it feels like a darkness goes with it. In a weird way, it’s as if I’m losing a heavy weight or burden just by saying my peace.

“You can say whatever you want to feel better about yourself,” he utters, eyes cold. “I am the force behind your greatness. I pushed you to become what you are.”

“I was just a kid.” My voice is a whisper now, and even though I want to be strong, the child in me who feels helpless and weak is taking over, and I can feel myself shrinking. “You didn’t build me up; you tore me down. You made me question if I even loved the game anymore.”

“I made you better. Without me, you wouldn’t have even picked up a ball,” he practically hisses. “You ungrateful little bitch.”

“That’s enough.” Noah’s deep voice comes from the open doorway, and I should have known he wouldn’t be too far. “I’m trying to let her do this, but I won’t have you disrespect her.” Noah glances at me and shrugs. “Sorry,” he mouths, and despite the rocky conditions in this room, I have to fight a chuckle.

“She’s my daughter. I’ll talk to her however I want to,” Cal challenges him, but Noah isn’t having it.

“Fuck that,” Noah tosses back. “You’ll speak to her with respect or you won’t fucking speak to her at all.”

I imagine Anna in the hallway, probably losing her crap and wanting to march in here and get in my dad’s face. She’s a firecracker who puts up with no shit, but I know she’s been trying to behave today. I even caught her taking a few deep breaths during the meeting when my dad was being a dick.

“It’s okay,” I tell Noah with a small smile. “I’m ready to go anyway.”

Slowly, I turn my head back to the monster in front of me.

“I’m not your daughter. I’m not your family. I’m not anything when it comes to you.” I stand tall, hearing my mom’s voice in my head, telling me to do just that, and I inhale, pretending I’m on the mound. “I wanted to meet you today to tell you that in person. This is the last time you’ll ever see me, and you will never come near my company either.”

He opens his mouth instantly, spewing vile words, but I turn and walk toward Noah, who right away leads me out the door. I can still hear Cal’s loud voice following us, telling me I’m nothing and no one, but Noah, though his body is as tense as a board, tugs me outside and toward the car.

Anna is waiting beside it, but she quickly climbs into the back when she spots us. Noah opens the passenger door and I climb in, but before he backs away, he dips his forehead closer to mine.

“Can I just … punch him one time?” he says, his teeth gritted. “Please?”

Cupping his cheeks, I shake my head. “He isn’t worth it, babe,” I whisper. “He would call the police or sue you.” I press a soft kiss to his lips and smile. “Let’s get out of here. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

Something about my words has his expression softening, and he nods.