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“Is that so?” he asked.

She nodded. “She ran onto the field when Tyler went down. Apparently she’s a doctor or something now.”

Bryant let out a low whistle. “Well,” he said, “looks like someone managed to climb a few rungs.”

I straightened, muscles rigid. “She didn’t run off,” I said. I knew very well she had, but he didn’t get to talk about her like that. He didn’t get to have her name in his mouth.

Julia’s brows lifted slightly like she was just realizing this was not the topic to bring up.

“No?” he asked.

I kept my voice level. “She left.”

“Without so much as a goodbye,” he replied, lifting a brow.

The air thinned. Julia traced the rim of her wineglass with one finger. “People leave for all sorts of reasons.”

My father’s gaze slid to her. “Some people don’t understand loyalty.”

Her hand stilled as her eyes flickered to him. My gaze moved between them. The chandelier light caught the diamonds in her wedding ring.

“You always did have a weakness for girls who needed saving,” he said casually, and Julia flinched slightly.

My eyes snapped up.

“I didn’t need to save anyone.” The calm in my voice was the only thing keeping the anger underneath it from showing.

He arched his brow. “No? Because from where I’m at, you spend an awful lot of time picking up after other people’s children.”

Julia inhaled softly. “Honey—”

“What?” he said, spreading his hands. “It wasn’t an insult. It was an observation.”

I pushed my plate back an inch. “You asked me to come to dinner. I came.”

“And we are having dinner,” he replied smoothly. “Conversation is part of that.” He waved his fork as if it were normal to carry this much tension during a family dinner. Dinners with Soren’s family had never been like this.

The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, each second precise and unyielding, like it was reminding me of every minute I was trapped in this room with him.

Julia rose halfway from her chair. “Dessert?” she offered. “I made key lime pie.”

I almost laughed at the timing. The sudden shift to dessert, as if we could pretend the last few minutes hadn’t happened. That was the ruse of this family. We were all experts at pretending.

“Sure,” he said.

She disappeared into the kitchen, heels clicking lightly against the marble. Bryant leaned forward, forearms braced on the table.

“I heard you met with Walton,” he said, and I cursed the way this town talked.

There was no point in his pretending that he didn’t know everything.

“I met with a player’s parent.”

His mouth curved. “Of course.”

“She’s not a kid anymore.” The words left before I could stop them.

“No,” he agreed. “She’s a single mother who ran back to town. Who is the father of her child?”