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“Fa-ther,” I stutter out, drawing his focus back to me.
Trying to stand upright, my head jerks to the side as he catches me with an unexpected backhand across the face.
“Brock,” Kassidy calls out.
Not acknowledging her, so Father’s focus remains on me, I try to get him talking. My throat is sore making my voice come out raspy.
“Your issue is with me, not her,” I start speaking as his glare focuses on me.
“That is correct,” he sneers, turning to fully face me. “You,” he sneers, planting his hand in the center of my chest as he pushes me backward. “You are an ungrateful son-of-a-bitch. Everything I did for you. Molding you, shaping you, sending you to camps and workshops, for what? You have one hell of an arm, and you are an above-average batter for a pitcher. How do you repay me? But fucking around and turning against me. ME!” he yells out, hitting his palm against his own chest with his last word.
Squaring my shoulders, I decide that this show has gone on long enough. It’s time for the final act.
“Yeah, you are one hell of a father. Berating all women, warning me away from them, beating it into my head that they aren’t any good and that I should stay away from them. For fuck’s sake, I was a twenty-one-year-old fucking virgin because of you.” I mentally chastise myself for that public slip when gasps ring through the crowd. Brushing it off now that the cat is out of the bag, my attention returns to my father.
“I love Kassidy.” Another gasp sounds, as I once again didn’t mean to say that out loud, at least not yet, and not publicly without telling her first. “There is not a damn thing you can do about it. As for the real reason that you are here… It got back to me that you were trying to make your own side deal on several contracts that were offered to me to play professional ball next year.”
His eyes widen, realizing that I know what he has been up to. My lips tip up on one side as I continue to humiliate him.
“Thank you for sending me to the camps and workshops and getting me private lessons. You are correct in the fact that had you not done so, I would not have the opportunity to play in the Majors. I am old enough now to sign contracts and negotiate my own terms. It is not up to me to support you. In fact, we are done! Don’t call me, text me, come to a game, nothing. If you don’t stay away, I will apply for a restraining order. I am sure at least one of these fine people recording this will provide me a copy for the courts.”
Several people cheer the affirmative, and I hear Gareth speaking softly, gathering names, phone numbers, and email addresses.
Spitting on the ground at his feet, I step away, my gaze focused on Kassidy as tears streak down her cheeks. Wrapping her in my arms, I mutter softly spoken words as she shakes in fear. Kassidy suddenly steps away from me, opening her mouth to speak, when another voice yells.
“Brock, look out!”
Glancing over my shoulder, my father stalks in our direction, hand-fisted, pulled back, and ready to swing. Before he reaches me, he gets tackled to the ground from behind.
Finally, campus security shows up.
Pinning my father to the ground, with a knee between the shoulder blades, the police arrive not long after security.Once the police have my father secured and on his way to be processed, they start the long and tedious task of interviewing all the bystanders. They also collect copies of the video as evidence.
Kassidy clings to Kennedy as the police pull me away to get my version of events.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The police kept us at the library for what seemed like forever. Being emotionally wrung out, Callum and Rodney escort Kennedy and me back to the apartment. Gareth, as part of Brock’s legal team, stayed on site.
Kennedy helps me change clothes and climb into bed. Almost immediately, the world falls away as exhaustion claims me.
Trying to kick the covers off my too-hot body, a strong arm wraps around me, halting my movements. My eyes fly open as my sleepy brain catches up. Rolling over to face Brock, my hand runs along his cheek. He pulls back slightly as my hand brushes over the spot where his dad hit him.
“Are you alright?” I whisper, my concern evident.
“I am now,” he responds. Taking one of my hands in his, I prop my head up, bending my arm at the elbow. “I am sorry that I just announced to the whole world that I love you—” I cut him off with a chuckle.
“Not the whole world, but at least the entire campus,” my tone is light, trying to lift his mood a little. It is obvious that this confrontation with his dad was a long time coming and it is weighing heavily on his shoulders.
“Mr. Worthington is looking into my father’s finances. He thinks that he is broke, and that’s why he was trying to set up his own deal on the contract offers.” Brock blows out a breath, flopping onto his back, and stares at the ceiling.
My fingers skim his chest as my hand moves up and down the center. Resting my head on his shoulder we lay in silence until sleep reclaims me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The past couple of weeks have been anything but easy.
Mr. Worthington was able to find out that my father had to file for bankruptcy. From what they were able to find out, he had been withholding spousal support from my mother for years. She finally got a good enough lawyer that he was forced to pay. He also made some bad decisions that hurt his business. Things just snowballed from there.
