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There it is. My third bomb.
My father is stunned into silence. I take that opportunity to deliver my carefully prepared speech.
“This was never a life for me, Dad. I’ve been playing a role for the past twenty years. And I always knew I was going to have to shed it at some point. I thought I’d have more years to save up for the life I dreamed of, but I’m not going to let myself wait around anymore, especially when the entire course of my life is about to be drastically altered. I want a change. And I’m ready to start right now.”
My dad blinks. Once. Twice. Then tears pour down his cheeks.
Unexpected tears sting my eyes too. Yet another surprise today. Not even once did I think I’d cry about the thought of leaving this life behind. But after this conversation, I realize I have a lot more to leave behind than I thought.
I step around the desk and walk into his arms. He hugs me, tighter than he ever has in his life.
“I’m going to miss you, baby girl,” he mutters into my ear. “And whatever you need, whenever you need me, I’ll be there for you and my grandchild.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too.”
We’ve said that a million times before, but for the first time ever, I feel like we actually mean it.
And that almost dulls the sting of Alex walking out on me.
On us.
CHAPTER 22
ALEX
“Well, you look . . . wretched.”
I look up just in time to see Blake walk into my living room. He’s right, I do look pathetic. A glance at the TV screen in front of me reveals that my eyes are reddened, and my hair is sticking up awkwardly. This is what I get after a twelve-hour alcohol binge.
“How’d you get in here?”
He looks almost amused as he settles beside me on the couch. “Really? Your door was open. And not just unlocked. Wide open. Tell me you forgot to close it when you went to pick up a delivery or something.”
I recline against the couch. “Actually, I just woke up.”
“It’s past noon.”
“On one of the few days we don’t have practice,” I remind him. “Give me a break.”
In answer, he surveys the room. There are a few cans of beer on the coffee table and a half empty bottle of whiskey on the bookshelf.
Looking at the disheveled room brings back memories of Brit.
The first time I kissed her. The night she started to unravel.
I shut down the images as soon as they arise. There’s no need to keep thinking about her. Or so I’ve told myself over the last two weeks.
“Okay,” Blake says. “Look at me.”
I force myself to do just that, even if it’s proving difficult to forget Brit while someone who looks exactly like her is staring me down.
“I’m going to need you to cut this bullshit out. You’re an athlete, for Christ’s sake.”
I struggle to my feet. I hate being around him right now, but not as much as I hate the thought of telling him about my feelings. I’d rather jump off a two-hundred-and-fifty high foot cliff than do that.
Blake stands up as well. And before I can turn around and head to my bedroom, he blocks my path.
