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Abbi’s sitting on the sofa, twisting her hands and staring at the shaggy rug. She’s quiet and withdrawn, not even acknowledging Emerson’s presence.
Chris is the exact opposite. Pacing up and down while mumbling to himself—the same thing he does when watching our games—and stops mid-step to spin and face all of us. “I want the full story,” he demands, glowering with a stiff pose. “Tell me what the hell happened tonight.”
“We went out, Dad,” Emerson says quietly. “I was watching her, they were sitting on the sand having fun. Another girl thought it would be fun to go for a swim, but she got swept out. Tayla tried to save her.”
“And you didn’t think to warn your sister to not go in?” he questions anxiously.
“I was… um… busy.”
“You were busy?”
Emerson nods, tilting her head as our eyes meet. It’s the first time she’s looked at me all night, and in just that one gaze I want to apologize for my irrational behavior that got us into this mess in the first place, but she quickly turns away avoiding me once again.
“It doesn’t explain why you’re here.” Chris points to me rudely. “You should be in England training for the goddamn game tomorrow. This makes no sense to me.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Abbi speaks up calmly, still avoiding eye contact with everyone. “We’ve been lied to, Chris.”
“Mom, I’m sorry but—”
“Emerson. I didn’t raise you this way,” Abbi begins, then stalls, a look of discontent spreading across her tired face. “I’m disappointed in both of you. After what happened with Ashley, I thought you knew how I felt about secrets in our family. What did you think I would honestly say to you?”
“It’s my fault,” Wesley jumps in, quick to defend her. “Things got out of hand in Amsterdam, and I let it ruin our relationship. Just don’t blame, Em. Everything she’s done is out of revenge against me, not you.”
I remain tight-lipped. Angry we’re even here. All of this could have been avoided if she’d simply fucking left him. He’s the reason we’re here. His fucking dick running loose with whores. Yet, if he didn’t hurt her to begin with you wouldn’t have realized that the person in front of you is the only woman you want to be with.
“And you?” Chris points again at me. “I still don’t get why you’re here.”
“Chris,” Abbi raises her voice in frustration. “They’re sleeping together.”
“Who?”
“Emerson and Logan.”
Emerson keeps her head low, then raises it to meet mine with a tear falling down her exhausted face. Wesley moves over to where she sits, comforting her as I stand watching, wondering why the fuck I’m allowing any of this. His hands are all over her again. My anger paralyzes me, my emotions wild and out of control.
“Is that true?” Chris questions, disturbed by the reality of the situation.
“I love her.”
In the arms of the man that offered her a life of happiness, her conflicted gaze confuses me. Isn’t that what she wants to know? And isn’t that what all women wants a man to confess? There’s nothing else I can say or do. That’s all my cards, laid flat on the table for everyone to see.
“You’re damn right you better love her if you’re willing to jeopardize your goddamn career!” Chris shouts. The sound echoes through the apartment until Abbi asks him to keep it down. “Your whole life you’ve worked to get where you are. Ashley’s back home training his ass off to win this game and you’re here because of what?”
“Because I fucking love your daughter, and watching her with someone else is torture.” I stand, raising my hands as I yell in frustration. “The game means nothing to me if the one thing I want is fucking engaged to someone else.”
Abbi moves her gaze to meet mine, a look of astonishment mixed with relief. Chris is not so forgiving, he’s still full of rage and shares no empathy for our fucked-up situation.
“Now you listen to me…” that pointed finger comes out again, stern and warning me that I have no say in what he’s about to command, “… you will go back to England. You will win your games and prove you’re still the best. I did not spend the last fifteen years raising you as my son for you to let me down despite who the girl is.”
“Chris, you don’t get it—”
“Oh, I get it all right,” he interrupts unapologetically. “She’s my daughter. You want my respect? You want my approval to date her or whatever your plan is? Then get the hell out of here and leave her alone. Focus on your game then deal with this when you’re done winning. That’s the end of it.”
Chris tells Abbi to grab her bag and pack Tayla’s belongings so they can fly home. The two of them disappear into the bedroom leaving the three of us alone.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I struggle to even think about walking away right now. How the fuck does he expect me to focus on the game? My fingers are restless, moving of their own accord until they’re bunched up into a ball, clenched and ready to smash into something, anything for relief.
“I don’t have words for either of you.” Emerson removes herself from Wesley, moving toward the balcony with her back facing us. She’s changed into sweats and a tank with her hair propped up in a messy ponytail.
