“Cut the shit, Travis.” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to treat me like a kid.”
“Fair enough. What the fuck were you thinking?”
“First of all—”
“Let me answer it for you.” He interrupted. “You weren’t thinking. Because the idea of Hayden being someone worthy of dating should’ve never crossed your mind. You know how he is with women, and you’ve had a front row seat to his show for years. Did you honestly think he would change his character for you?”
I didn’t answer.
“I’m beyond disappointed in you,” he said. “I’ve taught you better than this.”
“You’re not Dad, Travis.”
“Good thing that I’m not.” He sipped his coffee. “He wouldn’t be this calm if he were here. And he damn sure wouldn’t be okay with you dating Hayden. Trust me.”
I gritted my teeth as the waitress returned to our table.
“Here you are,” she said, setting down more than what I’d ordered between us. Another power play by Travis.
He waited for her to leave before speaking again. “Good thing the two of you broke up before things got worse or he got you pregnant.”
“I am pregnant.”
“Stop fucking with me.”
“I’m eight weeks,” I said. “And yes, the baby is his.”
He sucked in a slow, steady breath. “Penelope …”
He didn’t finish that sentence.
Instead, he picked up his knife and sliced his pancake stack with such a slow and delicate precision that the nerves on the back of my neck stood up. The fear he’d instilled in me over the years was still there.
“Whatever he promised you while you were dating behind my back is a lie,” he said. “That said, I doubt he’ll ever walk away from his child. Given his past, he wouldn’t dare be a deadbeat dad.”
“I know that.”
“You should also know that I’ve talked to him about how he should’ve never touched you. There’s no future with him outside of co-parenting schedule. I won’t allow it.”
“You won’t allow it?”
“I didn’t stutter.” He glared at me. “He’ll be there for your child of course, but he’ll never be there for you in any other capacity. You should’ve heeded my words years ago. I’m the only one who will always be there for you. You’re all I have and vice versa.”
My blood boiled at his blatant rewriting of history, at his ability to say that shit with a straight face.
“Speaking of being there for you—” He pulled an envelope from his jacket and placed it into my purse. “I’ve had this account in your name since I started MMA, and I planned to hand it over to you next year, but you’ll clearly need it before then. By the way, don’t be surprised if Hayden doesn’t the baby is his for a while.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” he said. “I’ll be there for you for the long-term, since he can’t be.”
“You want to know who was really there for me when I needed him?” My voice cracked. “Who showed up to every fucking competition even when I told him that he didn’t have to, because just like you, he was working on his goddamn dreams?”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Hayden, Travis.” I hissed. “Hayden was there, and you were not. So, spare me the extra side of bullshit about being a fucked up white knight when I never needed you to save me.”
“Penelope—”
“You’re so full of yourself that you can’t even see it.” I stood to my feet. “But you know what? You’ve always done a pretty good job avoiding me for months at a time. Do me a favor and continue doing that for the rest of the year.”
“What?”
“I’ll be there in the front row at your next competition,” I said. “Or, will I? I vividly remember you feeding me that very line when you first left me.”
“Sit back down, Crown. I’m not done talking to you.”
“I’m done listening.”
I left the diner without another word, without telling him any of my plans.
I had a plane to catch.
Forty-Four
Present Day
Hayden
PilotNav: I can’t fly you to Utah until a doctor clears you, sir.
PilotJoel: You’ve asked me this twenty times a day sir. You need clearance from your doctor.
DoctorMurray: I’ve called every private airport/pilot union and listed you as a safety risk to commercial airlines. You have to heal for a few more weeks, Mr. Hunter. Be patient.
* * *
Fuck it, I’ll drive to Utah.
I was running on autopilot, commandeering a life I didn’t want to live since there was no Penelope in it.
I called her phone multiple times a day, sent endless texts, and even had flowers and apology letters sent directly to the training complex, but they were all returned.
She was using my own breakup advice—“Ignore the asshole until he gets the point,” against me, and it hurt like hell.
“Your Honor, Mr. Hunter has done nothing but stare at his phone and mumble to himself since we started this hearing.” The raspy voice of Tinder’s newest lawyer snapped me out of my thoughts.