Page 74 of Tough Score

"I'll tell you, but first, I would like to request special doctor/patient privileges before I continue."

Jaxson puts down his fork and reaches out for my free hand lying on the table.

"You're not my patient but you have my word that I won't tell a soul."

His eyes soften as they gaze into mine and I believe that he'll keep my secret. I just hope that I'm not making a mistake by telling him.

"Do you remember the scandal around the World Cup fifteen years ago?" I ask.

"Of course I do. Back then I was going into my freshman year of high school and thought I was going to be a professional soccer player. A lot changed for me the next day when I found out that we lost the house. After that, soccer left a bad taste in my mouth."

"Yeah, well everything around me crumbled after that night too when the FBI broke through the front door with a SWAT team and pulled my dad out of our house."

"Oh shit…" he says, squeezing my hand. "That must have been terrifying—being so young and having that happen."

"It was."

I nod, remembering the bright light of high-powered swat flashlights shining under my bedroom door. But no one opened it to tell me what was going on.

"That's my daughter's room. Don't go in there," he threatened whoever was pulling him through the house as they passed by my room. I wasn't supposed to be there that night but my mom had to fly out of town to see a great aunt in Florida so I got to stay with my dad for the entire weekend.

My mother resented him for putting us through hell. From the night they broke through the front door while I was staying with him, to the year-long criminal trial, to the death threats from of Soccer fans from all around the world that came to our mailbox for years.

She refused to let fear move us out of town even though my uncle Oakley begged her to move me to Seattle and out of Mesa. But her family and friends were still there, we still had support from so many.

"What happened next," he asks.

"My father stood trial for his involvement in the World Cup racketeering scandal."

Jaxson's face falls and his skin turns gray. He pulls his hand off mine slowly—my skin losing his heat with each inch he pulls back until I'm left cold again, like I have been for the last fifteen years.

"Fuck…" he mutters to himself and stares down at his lap.

Though I'm not usually surprised by his reaction… It's usually not people in the medical field that take the news this hard. I had told a few people in college when the conversation came up over late-night study parties. People's eyes would widen but more to the fact that my dad was in the mob. The World Cup didn't mean much to most of them, and not many even remember hearing about the scandal.

It's one of the reasons I stayed in school and got my doctorate instead of stopping at my master's. College was the first time that I felt safe with my peers. People were too damn busy trying to juggle exams, coursework, extra school credit, additional lab time, and a mountain of school debt to care about anyone else's life problems other than their own.

It was more like, "Oh… your dad is a convicted mobster who paid a whole team of players to throw one of the highest televised sporting events of all time? Great…. Now, can I borrow your notes from the anatomy lecture from yesterday?"

Those years were the happiest I had ever been since I was fourteen.

When Jaxson doesn't say anything, I continue.

"My dad just got out recently, and if Reeve and I started dating, then it could look bad on sponsorships and teams looking to take him on as a player. No one will want to associate with a player whose girlfriend is linked to a guy who paid off a team to throw a game. No one will believe that my father isn't out of prison and still working for the mob, trying to convince Reeve to throw a hockey game. He'll become too much of a risk for teams to take on."

Jaxson's eyes are still cast down—deep in thought—or shock. I'm not sure which.

"Keely," he says, peering up, his eyes full of emotion. "Jesus, I can't believe I'm about to say this. It's been a really long time since I've felt this way about anyone. I started thinking that you could turn out to be the… never mind, that's not helpful right now."

I didn't finish the sentence, but I can guess.

He started thinking that I could turn out to be the one.

We're not even together and he's breaking up with me over my father's transgression.

Figures. Life keeps playing a cruel joke on me, but no one seems to be laughing.

"It's fine. You don't have to say anything. I'm used to this reaction by now. We can split the check, and I'll call a rideshare to take me home," I say, reaching up a hand to flag down the waitress.

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