Page 48 of The Penalty

“Ready?” he asks when he sees me coming back.

“I guess.”

“Come on. You didn’t really want to stay here, did you? This isn’t your scene.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate that I’ve told him so much about me that he knows I would’ve been uncomfortable staying here.

“Maybe I’m trying new things,” I suggest.

He scoffs and then follows me out the front door. Kylie is already lying down in the back seat of his truck, and it looks like she’s fallen asleep. The silence drags on as Tyler drives us home. There’s too much alcohol running through my system right now to bother having an actual conversation, and I don’t even know what I would say to him.

By the time we pull into the driveway, I’m itching to get out of here and away from Tyler. I practically jump out of my seat as soon as the truck is in park. I gently wake Kylie and help her into the house.

“What are you doing here?” she asks groggily. “I thought you were staying with Hayes.”

“Yeah, well, your dad had other plans, I guess.”

She groans. “Oh god. Did he cock-block you? I’m sorry, I shoulda just called an Uber.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tyler stiffen, but I’m not sure if it’s because his daughter just said the word cock or because he’s wondering what might have happened if I had stayed with Hayes.

I wasn’t planning on sleeping with him, but everyone seems to assume I was.

As we’re walking up the stairs, I say, “Thanks for the ride,” over my shoulder because no matter how annoyed I am, I don’t have it in me to be rude to someone who is helping me.

He doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect him to. After I get Kylie into bed, I cross the hall to my new room.

I peel off my clothes and throw a big T-shirt on before I land face-first on the bed and fall asleep on top of the covers.

In the morning when I wake up, there’s a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the nightstand next to my bed. Why does he have to continue to be nice to me? It would be so much easier to get over him if he was truly the asshole he pretends to be.

TWENTY

TYLER

There’s been an odd tension in the house ever since McKenzie temporarily moved in with us, but it seems she and I are the only ones who notice it. My daughter is completely oblivious to the quick looks I send McKenzie every chance I get or the way she glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking. We hardly ever talk anymore, and I find that, more than anything, I miss our late-night chats.

It was nice having her to come home to and talk with after a long day at work. I could try and talk to Kylie, but she doesn’t like to stay up late where as I’m a night owl. It takes me forever to wind down because there is so much going through my head. McKenzie was a great sounding board, and she actually has some of my same interests. Kylie would rather mow our lawn than listen to me talk about football. And she hates mowing the lawn.

In the past, when I tried to date women, it was clear they were only interested in my money and reputation. There was always an air of disappointment when they realized I was not into flaunting my money. The house I currently live in is bad enough with all the spare rooms I don’t even need. But they also wanted to always go out and be seen on my arm, getting our picture taken for their social media to document our outings. And they just loved it if a photographer happened to spot us stepping out of a restaurant. I hated every second of that.

But McKenzie doesn’t seem to care about any of that. She doesn’t even want my money or the spare room in my house. I think that’s a big reason I can’t get her out of my head. She doesn’t treat me the way other women do.

If only she was a few years older.

McKenzie has taken to cooking us dinner on nights when she doesn’t work at the restaurant. I’m not always home in time for dinner, but she puts a note on the fridge letting me know there are leftovers. It’s the closest we get to talking. I’ve noticed her cleaning more, too, even though I have someone come do that. She spends most of her time, at least while I’m at home, in her room or in Kylie’s room.

Outside of the house, I hardly ever see her in the field house anymore. Occasionally, I’ll pass her in the hallways if she’s talking to one of my staff members, but she just gives me a tight nod and a short “Coach.”

She’s taking the space I told her we needed quite literally, and I hate that I actually miss her. I miss her smile. I miss hearing her laugh when I walk in the house. I miss her popping into my office to randomly ask a question. Hell, I even miss hearing her joke around with my players. Even though I still wanted to break Hayes’s arm for getting anywhere near her.

It’s been a little over a week since I picked a drunk Kylie and McKenzie up from the party. We won our away game this weekend, and the team is in good spirits. We’re on track to make it to a bowl game and, hopefully, the National Championship, and I’m in a fucking good mood. The only thing that would make it better is if McKenzie would actually look at me.

It’s Monday, and I know McKenzie doesn’t work Mondays because I’m pathetic and memorized her schedule. So I text Kylie that I’m making dinner tonight and grab stuff from the store on my way home.

When I walk in, the girls are in the living room working on homework. Kylie’s face lights up when she sees me because she’s not mad at me anymore since I let McKenzie come back. I told Kylie a little white lie that I apologized to McKenzie and offered her a room. McKenzie must’ve said something similar because Kylie hasn’t called me out on anything yet.

“Hey, Dad.”