Page 104 of The Christmas You Crash

“I asked a damned question, and I expect an answer,” my dad growls, taking another step closer. His gray eyes narrow as he looks between Ryder and me. “What are you doing here, Alexis?”

“Coach,” Ryder starts, his palms outstretched. As if he can placate the man shooting lasers out of his eyeballs.

“Don’t you fuckingCoachme, Ryder. I asked my daughter a question, and I expect an answer.”

The way my dad glares at me makes me want to shrivel up into a tiny little ball. If I thought for even a second that his anger was because he was worried I was being taken advantage of, thatwould be one thing. But I know better. I know better, and I’m dreading what he’ll say before all of this is over.

I want to curl into a little ball, but I won’t. I force my spine straight, push my shoulders back, and step up beside Ryder. “Dad. If you’d like to talk, we can talk. But not like this.”

“The hell, we won’t, Alexis. You are my daughter and this is my team. You will answer my damned question, and it better not be the answer I think is coming.”

I can’t help it. I bark out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah? And what answer do you think that is, Dad?”

“Coach,” Ryder interrupts, drawing my dad’s attention back to him. “Look, I get that every dad is protective of his daughter, but I can assure you, I only have the best of intentions with Lexi. Your daughter is an incredible woman, and I know how lucky I am that she ever even gave me a second look.”

“When did this start?” My dad ignores Ryder, aiming the question at me. The words are sharp and pointed. An arrow tightly nocked.

Shaking my head, I tell him. “It started when you gave him the keys to the family cabin. Where I was staying for my Christmas break.”

My dad is silent for a moment at that. “You said you had plans for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Plans to spend the week alone at the cabin.”

Every Rogues player not already on the bus watches us. Their eyes ping back and forth, like they’re watching a table tennis match. One with unusually high stakes. My dad serves the ball, and I volley it back.

“I thought you were spending the holiday with friends.”

With a sardonic laugh, I roll my eyes. “You assumed I was with friends so you wouldn’t have to ask. Because if you’d asked, you would have had to feel bad that you didn’t try all that hard to get me to spend it with you.”

I can almost feel the pity wafting off the guys around us. The frigid Chicago air is thick with it. But I don’t need their pity. This has been my reality for long enough that I’ve found ways to cope. Ryder wraps his arm around my waist. My dad narrows his eyes at the offered comfort, but Ryder doesn’t flinch away. I fucking love him for it. I love him. I love him, and I’ve never told him.

It may be too late now.

“You know what, Alexis?” My dad crosses his arms over his chest and looks down his nose at me like I’m some petulant child. “I’m sick of your attitude. It was one thing when you were a hormonal teenager, but this?” He shakes his head. “This is something else.”

My chest squeezes sharply. I suck in a breath, feeling like I’ve been slapped. Or shot with the arrow of his words. “Excuse me?”

“Coach,” Ryder says, a warning in his tone. My dad ignores it.

“You’ve never appreciated the responsibility I hold as the coach of this team. People depend on me, Alexis. These men, their spouses and kids, hell, even the concession workers. You have no idea the weight resting on my shoulders, while you’re throwing tantrums about how I don’t spend enough time with you or whining about how I missed some silly school thing.

“All you can think about is yourself. Even now. You’re a grown woman, and you still don’t understand that entire families depend on me to make sure this team is a success.”

The world goes utterly still and silent, save for the roaring in my ears.

Tantrums.

Whining.

Families depending on him.

I depended on him. I depended on him, and he was never there. Don’t I matter? Don’t I count?

“Coach,” Ryder growls. His fingers dig into my hip. I’m not sure if he’s trying to tether me to him or tether himself to me, so he doesn’t lunge at my father.

The bitterest laugh scrapes itself out of my throat. Then another. And another. Soon, I can’t stop, and a rogue tear slips down my face. “What, exactly, are you getting at, Dad? Like you said, I’m a big girl now. If you have something to say, fucking say it.”

My dad scoffs. “I knew you were desperate for my attention, Alexis, but this?” He points at Ryder. “This is taking things too far. I won’t let you distract one of my best players and bring him down, just so you can get back at me for some perceived slight. You won’t ruin his career or set this team back. I won’t let you.”

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