Page 89 of The Underdog

“Because it made me whole. It taught me who I really am.”

Dad looks at me with a sense of disbelief—but not the type that leaves one in awe. The type that gives me the sense he’s trying not to burst out into laughter.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Delaney.” He scrunches his nose skeptically. “As if you didn’t already know who you are. You’re a city girl, for God’s sake. What the hell exists in Crawley that somehow magically changed you, huh? What?”

I have to bite back the obvious answer to his question that threatens to escape my lips, given that he’s sitting right across from him. Instead, I opt for a simple shake of my head.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dad.” I straighten my spine. “Because maybe that’s who I was, but that’s not who Iam.”

I watch as he scoffs, waving that dismissive hand in my direction the way he’s done so many times before.

Little does he know, this will be the last.

“And who exactlyareyou then?” He mimics my action, straightening his own spine and placing both forearms on the table.

His mocking tone prompts Warren’s head to whirl in his direction, his fist clenching tightly.

I hadn’t thought Warren was a fan of my dad, but after seeing the way he’s looking at him now, I can confirm my suspicion was true.

God, the way he absentmindedly makes me want to drop not only this rant, but my feelings of hurt towards him needs to be clinically studied.

A part of me wants him to look at me again, to give me the reassurance I so desperately need to keep going.

But before he can, I find it in myself.

“I’m the new owner of Crawfield.”

Silence.

The room is silent. So silent that you could hear a pin drop.

Until suddenly, a deafening burst of laughter ensues.

“Oh, Delaney…” Not only are my parents in hysterics but so are my cousins, my aunts, my uncle—and damn, even Benji hurdles over in laughter.

But despite the boisterous noise, I can’t hear a thing. Nothing demands my attention quite like the way I notice how Warren ignores it all—reminding me that all along, no matter where we are, who we’re around,he sees me.

He’s always seen me.

“Delaney, I think your little toast is over.” My mom giggles. “That was definitely one we’ll never forget. But let’s move on, shall we? Who’s next?”

“No,” I cut off her attempt to bypass me like she has my whole life. “I’m the one who bought the team! What don’t you understand about that?”

“Warren, my boy.” Dad now stands up from the table, brushing some moisture away from his eyes.

My heart drops into my stomach at my dad’s poor choice of words. And judging by the way Warren sucks in a breath and tightens his chest, I can tell he’s noticed it, too. His still-clenched fists have now turned his knuckles white.

“I’m impressed that you’ve been able to put up with this for three whole months,” Dad continues obliviously. “Aren’t you happy she’s home?”

Now, Warren stands up, and seeing how he towers over my dad and silences the room makes my jaw drop.

He’s about to snap.

But before he can speak, I interject a final time. If anyone is having the last word here, it’s me.

“You know what? I don’t care if you don’t believe me.” I toss my dinner cloth onto the table in frustration. “Frankly, it doesn’t matter. Because at this moment, I know one thing for certain.” I press a finger into the table in front of me, urging myself to continue. “Gramps is proud of me. He’s proud of what I’ve done, and I’m proud of the decisions I’ve made.”

I begin to back away from the table, my footing guiding me out of the room, but not before I look at them all once more, meeting and holding each of their gazes.

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