“You’re not stupid. Assholes like Landon know exactly what they are doing,” Pen soothes, her arm coming around Liv.
“Sweetheart.” Carlson strides to Liv, pulling her close. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you. I’m so sorry.”
Swiping at her eyes, she steps back. “I wanted to come. To face him and show him he’d not hurt me, even though he did. I also wanted to thank Rowan.” She turns to me. “You could have told everyone why you did it, but you didn’t. You kept my secret. How did you figure out that it was Landon?”
I look to Pen, whose soft expression encourages me to speak. “Landon said something crude after the game and…” I swallow thickly not wanting to finish the sentence.
“Say it,” Liv orders, her face stone.
“He said he wondered if it was worse for Carlson to have lost the cup to him or to know that his daughter lost her virginity to him.”
“That fucker!” Carlson’s rage-filled gaze jumps to the stairs leading into the gardens from the porch, where Landon descends along with Eli, Malik, and a photographer.
In a swift movement, I reach for Coach and halt his steps. “Don’t. You’re better than this. Better than me.”
The hard edges of his expression melt as his stare locks with mine. “I was wrong. You are exactly who I thought you were: a good man. You defended her honor. You protected her despite the exorbitant cost to yourself. Now, let me do the same.” He yanks out of my grasp.
“I was wrong. I didn’t protect her, and neither will this,” I hiss.
He stops and turns his face back to me.
“If I’m sorry for anything, it’s for not letting Liv fight her own battles. Not allowing her to face him and just stand as her backup.”
Carlson looks between Landon who strides towards us, a laughing expression on his face, and then back to Liv, her fierce glare locked on the man who’d hurt her. Somehow, the little girl that she appeared while tucked under her father’s protectivearms mere moments ago dissolves. Spine straight and hands clenched at her side she’s the image of a warrior ready for battle.
“There you all are. I thought we could get a picture. You know, show there’s no hard feelings. Good sportsmanship and all that.” A smug expression etches across Landon’s features.
“You don’t know the definition of good sportsmanship.” Liv glowers.
“Excuse me?” Landon cocks a dismissive eyebrow.
“Were you being a good sportsman when you dated me, got me to fall for you, slept with me, and then ghosted me?”
“You what?” Eli growls and steps towards Landon, only to be held back by Malik. “What the fuck, man?”
“He sure did. Mr. Man of the Year is a manipulative bastard who used a twenty-year-old girl to get one over on her father. Were you still upset that he benched you when you played for him at university until you got your grades up, or that out of all the free agent players who played for him, he didn’t ask you to join him at the Bobcats?” Eyes narrowed, Liv steps up to Landon. “You’re a pathetic little man.”
“Who you still slept with,” he hissed.
“Watch it, fucker,” Carlson snarls, coming beside his daughter.
“Or what?”
Placing a hand on her father’s chest, Liv’s mouth curves. “Oh, don’t worry we’ll give you exactly what you gave me in bed…nothing.”
“Coach, we got you and Liv’s back. Whatever you want,” Eli says, he and Malik move to Liv’s other side.
Intertwining our fingers, Pen guides us to stand on Carlson’s side. “Us too,” we say in unison.
Carlson looks at his daughter. “Your call, Liv.”
She looks at Landon like he is gum on her shoe. “Not worth the effort. Let’s go.”
Fifty minutes later, our little ragtag team, now including Finn and Trina, sit in the hotel lobby. Two dozen Timbits surrounded by coffees, ice caps, and two apple cinnamon teas from Tim Hortons cover the surface of the table we’ve claimed. We’re seated on the cluster of plush sofas surrounding the round table.
Pen is nestled on my lap, my arms looping around her middle, as she munches on our shared cheese toasty.
“Thank you,” I whisper against her cheek.
