Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends 2)

Me: I did not call him to come. And how can you judge him for wanting to be by my side?

Dad: I told you not to be a distraction. We discussed this.

Me: I can’t control what he does—I had no idea a man I’m not even dating would show up when my own FAMILY wouldn’t. So now I know whom I can depend on.

Dad: You know the rules about game days. There are to be no events planned on days I have to travel or work.

Me: Events? You call my being mugged an EVENT? LOL omg Dad.

Dad: There’s no need to be churlish.

Me: There’s no need to be an uncaring, selfish ass, but here we are.

Me: This is the reason

I almost say, This is the reason Mom left, but I can’t bring myself to send it. It’s cruel and uncalled for. I’m not hurt he didn’t come to the police station—I never expected him to in the first place. What I am upset about is the fact that he isn’t showing the least bit of concern for anything that happened to me. In fact, he’s irritated at the mere thought that I’ve forgotten the Thomas Westbrooke cardinal rule: no emergencies or events on game days, and this includes birthday parties, baptisms, retirements, communions, graduations, weddings, bat mitzvahs, funerals, and births.

Yes, we’re not allowed to give birth on a game day. Not that he would come to the hospital anyway.

Let’s be honest here: Dad wasn’t at much of anything. I played sports through school, but he probably couldn’t tell you which ones (volleyball and field hockey). I was on prom court once, but he wouldn’t know that, either—he wasn’t there for the grand march. Prom wasn’t during the official baseball season, but when wasn’t it baseball season in our house? It was never not in season.

He was never not too busy.

Including today.

Dad: I don’t know why you’re upset—your boyfriend was there.

Me: He’s not my

I pause before finishing the sentence and hitting send. Pause and stare at the sentence I’m about to write. Trace Wallace might not be my boyfriend, but so far, he’s acted more like one than any guy I’ve ever dated. Or not dated.

He’s trying so hard, and I’ve done nothing but push back.

Why?

Why won’t I let him in?

Because you were afraid he was going to be like your dad since he works for your dad. Not to mention, he’s the best-looking guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.

His face and body and voice could melt my butter with or without the sun.

Me: We’re taking it slow, but I’m glad to have someone in my life who makes me a priority.

Dad: I don’t appreciate him walking out on his contract.

Me: Is that how you see it?

Dad: You’re missing the point here, Hollis.

Me: Um, respectfully disagree, Dad. This isn’t about money to me like it is for you—and for once I think I might have met someone who prioritizes people over money, too.

Dad: That sounds ridiculous.

Me: Only because you can’t relate.

Dad: If the kid doesn’t prioritize his INCOME then he should re-evaluate what he does for a living.

Me: He loves baseball Dad.

Dad: I know he does. That’s why I need him to stay focused.

Me: Did he have a shitty game today?

Dad: No. He’s played the best I’ve ever seen him play.

Me: Well…then maybe…I’m the best thing for him. And maybe he’s the best thing for me.

There is a long, long pause, the three dots appearing and disappearing more times than I can count and I hold my breath when they appear again.

Dad: Maybe he is.

I stare at those three words, stunned.

Me: Wait. Are you…AGREEING with me???

Dad: Don’t get lippy.

Me: Okay, but it sounds like you are. It sounds like you…dare I say…APPROVE????

Dad: That will be determined once you start bringing the boy around.

Kid. Boy.

Oh brother. Those are words Dad uses when he’s trying to put someone in their place. He does the same thing to my brother and it sounds like he’s going to do it to Trace, to knock him down a peg.

What an asshole.

Still. It’s progress. My father is actually admitting he might like having Trace around as part of the family. Potentially. Or at least admitting he doesn’t hate the idea.

Me: We’ll see what happens I guess. Today was a good start. A horrible, horrible day, but also not the worst, all things considered. Some good came out of it.

Dad: You always have been too romantic for your own good.

Me: Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.

20

Trace

This is the first time Hollis is seeing my place, and I haven’t stopped fussing. I’ve fluffed the stupid throw pillows on my couch more times than I can count—an embarrassing number of times considering they’re fucking throw pillows. What self-respecting dude has this many?

I remove two and toss them behind the sofa.