Page 15 of The Breaking Point

“OrCoach. Since I’m still your coach at the end of the day, right?” said Dad with a raised eyebrow.

Brady’s gaze landed on me. “It has been a long time since I’ve been over for dinner, though, hasn’t it? Not since Grace left for college, right?” He shot me a look that spoke volumes.

I wanted to die. I’d been an idiot back then—a young, lovesick idiot. I’d hoped against hope Brady had forgotten about that night, but ...

“And who’s your friend?” Brady asked.

I blinked. Then I blushed scarlet, because poor Will had been forgotten entirely.

“This is Will,” I stammered, “we’re dating.”

Brady’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” he drawled.

Will, for his part, shook Brady’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Brady’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

Thankfully, dinner was ready, and we all went to the dining room to eat. Brady made a point to sit on my right; Will was on my left. And I realized Brady had done that because he was left-handed, which meant his arm would brush mine throughout dinner.

“Do you want to switch with Will?” I asked Brady sweetly. I gestured to his left hand. “Then you won’t feel so crowded.”

“Oh, you never crowd me,” Brady replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

I knew that was code forAre you going to make a fuss about this?I wanted to stab Brady with my fork. It didn’t help that Will was watching the exchange with suspicion in his gaze.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. My parents seemed divided on which guest to pay attention to. Mom focused all her efforts on Will, while Dad preferred to grill Brady. And of courseBrady made a point to brush my arm with his every chance he got. He even made sure to “accidentally” pick up my water glass and drink from it.

“Oh, was that yours?” Brady winked at me. “Sorry. You can have mine. I haven’t used it yet.”

I wanted to dump the rest of the contents of the glass on his smarmy, arrogant head. Instead, I tipped the glass back and drank the rest of the water.

“Don’t worry about it,” I drawled, mimicking his earlier tone.

One side of Brady’s luscious mouth curled up in a grin.

“Grace, how is your internship?” Will asked me.

It took me a long moment to find my answer. “Uh, it’s good. I got to make copies today,” I said jokingly.

Will frowned. “I thought you said this was a real job.”

“It is—I mean, it will be. I’m still training.”

“How much training is there to post on Instagram?” Brady asked, chuckling.

Now I was pissed. I kicked Brady under the table, which made him wince. Mom and Dad just watched the tableau with confusion on their faces.

Or, rather, Mom looked confused. Dad looked pissed, too. Except I couldn’t tell who, exactly, he was pissed at: Will, Brady, or me.

“Will, where do you work again? Grace never mentioned that.”

Now Brady sounded like we were talking to each other all the time. I could strangle him.

“I work in IT,” replied Will.

“Oh, that tracks.” Brady shook his head, grinning to himself.

It took every ounce of restraint for me not to kill Brady right then and there. I had a feeling even my parents wouldn’t stop me.

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