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“I don’t want you to feel responsible for him,” he says. “What if the rehabilitation process takes more than expected, or if there’s any other expense we aren’t?—”

“But Dad, I love him.” The words burst out before I can stop them.

My hand flies up to cover my mouth, but it’s too late.

It’s done.

He looks away and scratches his jaw.

“I know,” he says after a pause, shaking his head with a soft shrug. “We all love him. You know he’s like a son to me.”

For a second, I don’t breathe.

He didn’t get it.

Or he did, and he’s choosing not to.

“But we can’t offer to cover the cost until we get a formal quote,” he continues. “Going into surgery tomorrow feels rushed.”

“Ilovehim,” I repeat the words, slower this time, staring into Dad’s eyes—pleading—and waiting for understanding to smack him in the face. “I’d do anything for him. So please … just let me do this one simple thing for him. Let me help him get a second chance to live his dream.”

Dad stares at me, his eyes going round as he processes the revelation I just threw at his feet.

“Does he know?”

I throw my hands up with a snort.

“I think he’s always known,” I say. “I’ve always loved him. I can’t even remember a time when I haven’t. But yeah, he does.”

He sighs.

“And does he love you?”

I press my lips and nod.

“Very much.”

Dad points at Dr. Rivera's door. “Más le vale al cabrón.”?1

I chuckle, but it comes out choppy and thick with emotion.

“I don’t want this to affect your game,” Dad says. “I saw how distracted you were with Liam.”

“This is different,” I say quickly. “Henry understands the rules more than I do. He would never do anything to jeopardize my career. You’ve known him his entire life. I don’t need to tell you how great he is.”

“Ay,mijita.” Dad shakes his head with a smile. “Since when have you been together?”

“Mexico.”

“Pues claro, se los puse de pechito.”?2

I laugh.

Dad glances at Dr. Rivera’s door.

“If Henry doesn’t do this tomorrow, it’ll be months before Dr. Rivera is available again, and who knows what can happen during that time,” I say. “What if he gets worse and the damage becomes permanent or?—”

“And you’re fine with him not coming to Europe?” Dad muses.