Page 64 of The New Guy
“You still want to watch this show?” Gavin asks. “We don’t have to.”
“Oh, I want to.” I offer him a section of my clementine. “You’re probably going to have to throw me out.”
He nudges the snack tray closer to me on the sofa. “Have some more low carb, high fiber snacks. This show makes me hungry.”
“Thanks. Didn’t I say you were fun?” I take a handful of nuts and toss them into my mouth.
But all I really want to snack on is him.
TWENTY-TWO
Hudson
Two morningslater I’m sitting in the training room while Gavin applies kinesiology tape to my left wrist, which is giving me some pain.
“Does this happen a lot?” There’s an edge of concern in his voice.
“Nah. It’s an old repetitive stress injury. It doesn’t act up very often.”
“Okay. Let us know if it gets worse.”
“Hudson! There you are!”
When I look up at the man in the doorway, my stomach lurches. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
He’s standing there in a suit jacket and crisp white shirt, his usual jocular grin in place. That smile wins over athletes and managers the whole world over. But it works less well on me. He and I haven’t even spoken since the other night when I hung up on him.
Gavin removes himself to the far end of the room, as if to give us privacy.
“What kind of greeting is that?” My father crosses the room and sits on Henry’s empty treatment table. “I’m headed to Boston tomorrow so I thought I’d swing through New York and see how you’re doing. Besides, I owe you an apology.”
Wellthat’sunexpected. I swing my feet off the table and face him squarely. “Okay, let’s have it then.”
His expression cools a little. “I’m sorry that I implied that you haven’t been smart and dedicated. Nobody is more dedicated than you.”
“Thanks,” I say gruffly. Honestly, I needed to hear that.
“But there are still things we need to discuss.” He glances toward Gavin, who’s tidying up his assortment of athletic tapes. “Can we have the room? Just five or ten minutes.”
“Nope,” Gavin says crisply. “I can’t do my job if I’m loitering in the hallway. But Henry’s office is unoccupied at the moment. Try there.”
My father makes an unhappy face. He’s not used to hearing no from support staff. Or anyone, really. But he stands up and heads for the door without another word.
I follow him and point toward Henry’s small, messy office, and my father closes the door on us. Then he gets right to the point. “So it’s him, huh? The trainer?”
“It’s none of your business,” I say calmly.
“Does anyone else know?”
“What did I justsay?Are you kidding me? I haven’t seen your face in three months, andthisis the big emergency that has you flying into LaGuardia? To snoop into the details of my sex life?”
“You’re spoiling for a fight then?” He crosses his arms and stares me down. “I only came to make sure you’re all right. And to let you know how hard I’m working to make sure you live your dream. This isn’t the right time to take your eye off the goal.”
“I haven’t.”
He nods. “Okay, good. Nobody works harder than you do. I know that. We’re going to get you there. You’ve just been unlucky.”
I lean back against the wall—my ass parked against Henry’s anatomy posters. But this is a very small room, and I feel hemmed in by this man who controls so many aspects of my life. “If Brooklyn doesn’t renew me early with a no-trade clause…then what?”
