Page 148 of Break Point
“I don’t want you to feel responsible for him,” he says. “What if the rehabilitation process takes more than expected, or if there’s any other expense we aren’t?—”
“But Dad, I love him.” The words burst out before I can stop them.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth, but it’s too late.
It’s done.
He looks away and scratches his jaw.
“I know,” he says after a pause, shaking his head with a soft shrug. “We all love him. You know he’s like a son to me.”
For a second, I don’t breathe.
He didn’t get it.
Or he did, and he’s choosing not to.
“But we can’t offer to cover the cost until we get a formal quote,” he continues. “Going into surgery tomorrow feels rushed.”
“Ilovehim,” I repeat the words, slower this time, staring into Dad’s eyes—pleading—and waiting for understanding to smack him in the face. “I’d do anything for him. So please … just let me do this one simple thing for him. Let me help him get a second chance to live his dream.”
Dad stares at me, his eyes going round as he processes the revelation I just threw at his feet.
“Does he know?”
I throw my hands up with a snort.
“I think he’s always known,” I say. “I’ve always loved him. I can’t even remember a time when I haven’t. But yeah, he does.”
He sighs.
“And does he love you?”
I press my lips and nod.
“Very much.”
Dad points at Dr. Rivera's door. “Más le vale al cabrón.”?1
I chuckle, but it comes out choppy and thick with emotion.
“I don’t want this to affect your game,” Dad says. “I saw how distracted you were with Liam.”
“This is different,” I say quickly. “Henry understands the rules more than I do. He would never do anything to jeopardize my career. You’ve known him his entire life. I don’t need to tell you how great he is.”
“Ay,mijita.” Dad shakes his head with a smile. “Since when have you been together?”
“Mexico.”
“Pues claro, se los puse de pechito.”?2
I laugh.
Dad glances at Dr. Rivera’s door.
“If Henry doesn’t do this tomorrow, it’ll be months before Dr. Rivera is available again, and who knows what can happen during that time,” I say. “What if he gets worse and the damage becomes permanent or?—”
“And you’re fine with him not coming to Europe?” Dad muses.
