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I sigh. “Yes, she is.”
He offers a sly smile that comes off as a bit venomous. “Way to go, kid. Step in on the best friend. Knock that girl down a few pegs back to where she should be. How she got the correspondent position, I’ll never understand. Like we need more women there.” He scoffs, and I feel a little sick.
“Sorry, but I refuse to agree with that rather outdated sexism, Father.”
He rolls his eyes, and then he narrows them at me. “Oh, I bet you like having the ladies in the locker room.” His tone is full of the type of suggestiveness I don’t care for.
I heave out a breath. This is exactly the sort of thing Jolene hates—having that reputation that she got to where she was because she’s a woman, not because she’s smart and savvy and knows the game better than her male counterparts.
“That’s neither here nor there. What are you doing here? Can’t you go bug Asher?”
He chuckles. “Asher is doing just fine on his own. It’s you I’m concerned about. You’re letting that girl get in your head again, and I won’t stand by and watch you ruin your life over her. I put a stop to it last time, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
“What girl?” I ask, and my voice sounds tired even to my own ears.
“Oh, come off it, Lincoln. You jumped in between us last night to stop the fight, and you came out looking like an idiot. Her asshole father is trashing your name and you’re just sitting by.”
“You think I’m just sitting by?” I hiss at him. “I’ve already met with my publicist. She’s developing a plan. I don’t need to defend myself to you or anyone else.”
“You don’t,” he says, holding up both hands. “You’re right. But allow me to remind you where your focus should be.”
“My focus is exactly where it needs to be.”
“On the girlfriend? Because I’ve seen you with her, and I have my suspicions about what’s really going on.”
“You can take your suspicions and shove them where the—”
He holds up a hand. “Careful, Lincoln. I brought you into this world.”
“And you can take me out. Yeah, yeah. I have a long list of shit to work through today, so if you’ll excuse me.” I nod toward my door to indicate that I’m going in and he can get the fuck out.
“I just want to see you succeed. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“Give Mom a hug,” I say, ignoring his words and him as I turn and head into my house, closing the garage door on my way in to really drive home the message that I’m done here.
And as I lean back against the door after closing it behind me, I can’t help but feel like he came here with the intention of making the two of us closer, but he might’ve just driven a wedge between us that I’m not convinced we can come back from.
It’s the first time in two decades I’ve really wondered why I’m so intent on staying loyal to a man who acts like he does.
It’s the first time in two decades when I’m starting to wonder whether it would really be such a bad thing to choose Jolene and walk away from the Nashes.
The only problem is that the Nashes are so tied to football that I can’t exactly do that. My brother plays on my team. Grayson decided to stay in the game at least one more year, but maybe he’ll come coach with me next year.
What would happen to those sibling relationships now if I chose Jolene over my father?
It’s a question I may always wrestle with because I’m not sure either of us will ever be able to go all in, and the thought of maybe not having this work out between us physically twists a knife in my guts.
Jolene’s working on team interviews while I’m working on reviewing film, so we don’t get the chance to talk much over the next couple days until I find myself on her doorstep—or rather, on Sam’s doorstep—to pick up my dinner date on Tuesday evening.
Jolene is sitting at the kitchen table playing cards with the boys, and she glances up at me when I walk in. She wears a look on her face resembling extreme disappointment, but she masks it quickly.
How can she not be disappointed that she’s missing out on this dinner? It’s her chance to interview the manager of the Vegas Heat mid-season. She’s done reports on baseball before in her role as a sports beat reporter, but she spent much more of her career focused on football. Still, sitting in on this dinner would be a dream for her, and instead she’s relegated to playing cards with a couple of first graders while I take her best friend to the dinner she has every right to be attending.
Everything about all of this is completely backwards.
Ellie’s texted me with updates over the last couple days to let me know she’s still working out the plan and to sit tight for now. So that’s what I’m doing. But I hate it. I hate everything about all of this.
Jolene basically ignores me—or at least she pretends to—but I can’t help saying hi to her kid, who seems to have taken to me over the last few weeks much more than my pretend girlfriend’s kid.
