Page 115 of Love at Second Down

“Avery.” I swallow, stomach lurching as I fear I might be sick. “She said you were the one blackmailing her father. That you were the reason they forced her to break up with me. They said that you’d go to the media if she didn’t stay away from me, and I didn’t believe her. But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“No!” I can hear the fear in his voice, the denial in his voice as he says, “I didn’t go to the media. I didn’t do this.”

But he hasn’t denied that he blackmailed Avery’s parents.

“How could you do this?” I ask, refusing to let him off the hook. “Blackmail is a crime, Dad. Not to mention how badly you hurt me.”

“Why don’t we talk about this in person? Once you’re back at school.”

“No,” I say, my tone hard. “We’ll talk about it now.”

“Look, you might not agree with my choices, but I did what was best for you. What I knew you couldn’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I spit, wishing I could reach through the phone and strangle him. “I want the truth, Dad. Now. Or I swear to God, I’ll never forgive you.”

A beat of silence falls over the line, before I hear him exhale a shaky breath. “You never would’ve broken up with her,” he says, his voice unsteady. “If this news came out, you would’ve stayed with her, supported her and get her through it, like a dutiful dog at her side. So, when the investigation came back clean, I kept the evidence I had and forced Astor’s hand. I knew eventually his skeletons would come falling out of the closet, and if he’s done one fucked-up thing to hurt people, chances are he’s done more. I couldn’t let you risk everything you’ve worked your ass off for. I couldn’t let you miss out on college football and a future in the NFL just because you’re strung up on some girl. Not with your talent. Not with your drive and dedication.”

I stumble back, shocked by what I’m hearing.

Reaching out, I grip the sink with my free hand, willing myself to breathe, to come to terms with what he’s saying. “Whoareyou?”

I run a hand over my neck, sick to my stomach as the hand gripping my phone clenches so hard my knuckles ache.

“I’m the same man I always was. Your father. Your biggest supporter. None of that’s changed, and if you’d just consider what I’m saying, I think you’d see I have a point.”

I choke out a laugh. “I feel like I don’t even fucking know you.” The words tear from my throat, raw and vicious and true. “You had no right to make that decision for me. None.”

“Damon—”

“No!” I slam my fist into the bathroom wall, and the drywall crushes and cracks on impact. “Two and a half years,” I mutter, turning back to him, the words like acid on my tongue. “Two and a half years of my life wasted, thinking she didn’t want me, while you sat back and watched me suffer.”

“I was protecting your future.”

“It wasn’t your future to protect!” I roar, glad for the first time we’re having this conversation over the phone, for fear of what I might do if I were standing in front of him. “It wasn’t your choice to make. It wasmine!”

“You were too young to see the bigger picture.”

“The bigger picture?” I laugh, the sound hollow and bitter. “Let me tell you about the bigger picture, Dad. Avery meant more to me than football ever did. More than any draft or any damn Super Bowl ring. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Because Mom left and ever since you’ve been a bitter asshole.”

“I’m telling you now,” he says, his voice low and ominous, “if you stay with her through this, you’re throwing away everything we’ve worked for.”

“No.” I shake my head, done with this conversation. “What we worked for wasmydream, not yours. And you’ve just shown me you never understood what that dream was really about because it won’t mean shit if I’m playing for the Patriots, or any other NFL team for that matter, if I’m doing it alone. If it’s not with her.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve done a fine job the last two and a half years,” he spits out.

“Yeah, and I was fucking miserable for most of it. The only time I was even remotely happy was on the field. But that’s not enough for me. I don’t want to be happy only when I’m playing, because what happens one day when fame and football fade away and my career ends?” I lower my voice, wishing like hell he got it. “Football doesn’t last forever.”

“And you think love does?” he chokes out.

“Yeah, I do.”

I yank open the door to the bathroom and step out, my finger hovering over the end button when he blurts out, “I wasn’t really going to turn him in. I was bluffing.”

The emotion in his voice gives me pause.

“I like Avery,” he continues, “always have, despite how it might seem. She’s different than him . . . better. It was just a threat, one I’d hoped would keep you safe.”

I hold my breath, wanting to believe him. “Does it even matter?”

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