Page 47 of Break Point

I gently clink my glass into hers before tipping it back and drinking nearly half all at once. I don’t much care for wine, but I’ll chase whatever buzz I can get right now.

“So, Amelia . . . your father tells me you’re in the tech industry?” one of my father’s guests segues. My gaze darts to my sister in time to catch the panic hit her eyes.

“Uh, sort of. I recently launched an app. I have a partner who helps with the coding, but I designed the user interface, and I handle the business end, along with the marketing.” Amelia shifts in her seat, sitting taller, and I meet her gaze and smile to help encourage this proud posture she’s deploying. Our father’s loud chuckle from the opposite end of the table, however, erases all the confidence I know was hard for Amelia to showcase.

“Good for you! I have an app division at Metro. Is it something I’d be interested in? We’re always trying to build our fuel pricing portfolio,” the man says.

“This isn’t your kind of app, Rob,” my father says with a chuckle, quickly dismissing his colleague’s interest. I swear I can feel my sister’s pulse rattling the table through her palms.

Rob nods but keeps his interested gaze on my sister. He’s being polite, which is one of those foreign niceties Jacob Moss isn’t acquainted with.

“Amelia,” my father begins, drawing out my sister’s name as he leans back in his chair as if he’s bracing himself to make a major announcement, “has built a dating app. Ta-da! That’s it. Because that’s what this world needs to save it . . . one more dating app!”

Amelia shrinks down in her seat.

Jaden surprises me when she interjects. “Maybe not the world, but people like me? And Bryson? We don’t really have time to date like typical college students, so having a social media–type space where you can find other busy athletes and connect is unique, I think. At least, I like it.” Jaden’s hand moves to my leg under the table, and she squeezes my thigh as she scans the table, waiting for someone, anyone, to respond. Not even as much as a nod, however. Weaklings.

“But didn’t you two meet freshman year? On your own?” My stepmom is right on cue. I squint one eye and breathe out an awkward laugh as I glance to Jaden, who makes a similar expression back at me.

“No, see . . . Jaden is Amelia’s employee. She’s, like, what . . . a model? Or more of a spokesperson, really. Because, you know.” My dad’s eyes squint as he holds his wineglass precariously in one hand and uses it to gesture in Jaden’s and my direction.

Jaden’s head tilts as she gives my father a sideways look.

“What do I know?” she asks, her eyes squinting in a way that mirrors his. I brace myself for the incoming insult and move my hand to cover Jaden’s on my thigh.

“You two aren’t exactly on the same level, is all. So you’re more like coworkers.” My father chuckles, and his minions follow suit, though there’s a nervous tinge in their expressions, as if they’re not sure they’re supposed to be laughing this time.

Here’s a hint, assholes—you’re not.

“Because football is more important than tennis?” Jaden’s head tilts an extra tick, and her fingers dig into my leg.

My father sets his glass down and squares himself with the table, rubbing his palms together with his elbows propped on the table. It’s a posture I’m familiar with, as well as the pretentious smirk playing at his lips. He’s about to say hurtful words that I simply don’t want Jaden to hear. He’s not talking about tennis versus football. He’s talking about our worth—economically. It’s always been assumed that Amelia and I would date within a certain tax bracket. Of course, he’s the only one who assumes such things.

“Don’t worry. I don’t play for Tech, so my football status doesn’t really count. Isn’t that right, Dad?” My diversion seems to work, as my father’s stern gaze zips to me.

“Well now that’s another thing entirely. You passed on Tech to spite me.” He looks to his colleagues at his right. “He could have started there. He would have been a Tech legacy. But he had some whimsical fantasy about being on the West Coast, I guess.”

My father chuckles as he leans back and glances around the table, looking for support. One of our guests pushes back from the table to excuse himself, pulling a phone out of his lapel pocket. I suspect he’s faking a call to get out of here. I wish that move would work for me.

“Cordon had a great season last year. I think they’ll win the conference this year too.” Jaden is trying to defend me, and it’s sweet. It won’t deter my father, but her effort makes me squeeze her hand in appreciation.

“Well, isn’t that cute?” my father responds, rolling his eyes. Thankfully, our server steps in to review the menu and begin taking orders.

“Oh, that is annoying. Is that what I look like when I roll my eyes?” Jaden says in a hushed tone as she leans into my side.

I shake my head with a tight smile.

“Your eye roll isn’t annoying.” It’s cute. I keep that part to myself.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, so I slide it out of my pocket to read the text from my sister.

Amelia: Thank you.

I glance up at her across the table and nod silently. She moves her hands into the front of her hoodie, probably tucking her phone back out of sight, and I slide mine back into my pocket. Jaden lets go of my other hand when the server gestures to her. She drags her finger down the menu and stops on the lobster dinner, tapping it twice before popping her gaze up with a smug grin.

“I’ll have the lobster,” she says. My father snorts, and I’m sure it’s his way of calling her a gold digger.

“Make it two,” I say, meeting my father’s gaze in challenge. His eyes haze, but he lets my small act of rebellion go for now. I hate lobster, and he knows it.