Page 8 of A Shot at Love

Chapter Six

Jenna

I’m an early riser, but Oliver gets up even earlier. By the time I got out of bed to wander out to my car to grab my overnight bag for a change of clothes, he’d already made a pot of coffee and started on breakfast. When I told him I wasn’t sticking around for a meal, he seemed genuinely disappointed which twisted something in my gut.

He practically begged me with those sex eyes I’m learning to love, but he dropped it when I told him I was meeting with my dad today. And, even then, I could tell that he didn’t really care. He was just letting me go to keep me from getting upset.

Is it wrong that I wish he would have insisted that I blow my father off?

That doesn’t matter now. I’m parked out front of my dad’s favorite diner. I love my dad, I really do. He provides for me even though he’s given me all of the skills I need to be self-sufficient. Thanks to him, I don’t have to worry about a job in the off-season. He covers anything my scholarships won’t cover. Even though he’s a little controlling at times, he always has my best interest at heart and has since my mom died when I was little.

I stay in my car, feeling a little like I’m hiding. Truthfully, I’m worried that he’ll take one look at me and know that I was with Oliver last night. While I’ve learned that my mind can easily be changed when it comes to dating athletes, I know for a fact that he won’t be so easily swayed. Plus, I saw how he reacted when Oliver introduced himself yesterday.

I’m in the middle of giving myself a pep talk when I spot my dad approaching my car. I take a few deep breaths, running my hand through my hair to ensure it lies properly, then I get out of my car. I approach him with a smile on my face, opening my arms for a hug.

My arms and my smile drop when I catch the expression on his features.

It’s almost as if something horrifying has happened. His brows are knit together, his lips are pursed. It’s the same expression he used to wear when I was about to get scolded. I haven’t seen it in such a long time that I feel like I might collapse. It’s almost like I’m a child again, afraid that I’ve upset my dad beyond repair, afraid that I’m about to lose my only living parent.

“Daddy?” I say. I haven’t called him that in so long. It tastes different coming out of my mouth when it’s directed at my father. “Is everything alright?”

He’s staring at my neck, his jaw set. I take a few steps toward him, reaching out hesitantly. Maybe I can snap him out of whatever’s going on. Or, at the very least, I’ll be able to get him to talk. Usually, I can calm him down if I can just get him to talk to me.

“Seriously, Dad,” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, and I pretend that motion doesn’t stab me right in the heart. “Will you say something?”

“What’s the one rule I have for you now that you’re an adult?” he asks after a few seconds, his voice dark.

“Uh,” I say, blinking at him slowly. “What… Why are you asking that?”

“Answer me, Jenna,” he says, his eyes finally tearing away from where they’ve been resting on my neck. I see fire in his gaze, and it takes all of my strength to keep from slinking away with my tail tucked between my legs. “What’s my one rule?”

“Dad, I–”

“My one rule,” he says, cutting me off, his tone sharp, “is that you arenotto date professional athletes.”

My blood runs cold. Does he know about my night with Oliver? And if he does, how? Can he really just tell by looking at me?

The truth hits me like a bullet. My dad’s eyes locked onto my neck as soon as he approached me. Last night, Oliver had attached his mouth to my throat and sucked hard. I’m standing here with evidence of what I’ve done displayed just inches from my face.

“Harmon did that,” my father says. He’s so sure of himself, eerily calm in his delivery even though I see a storm bubbling just below his composed surface. “He did that to you. He didn’t even have the decency to hide it. Neither did you. It’s like you both want me to know, like you’re taunting me or something.”

“No, that’s not–” I try to say before I’m cut off again.

“I’ve told you!” my father screams, his voice echoing off the buildings around us, garnering the attention of the bystanders. “Jenna, I’ve told you! I’ve spent my whole life telling you. Professional athletes like Harmon are the scum of the earth! They take whatever they want. They use women like they’re toys! Then, when they’re done, they toss them to the side without a second thought.”

“Oliver’s not like that!” I protest, my voice rising in volume to match his. I’m getting upset on Oliver’s behalf – and for myself. I’m not a baby. I can make my own decisions. “He’s your player, but you don’t know him! And you don’t know every basketball player! Maybe they’re not all as bad as you say!”

My dad scoffs, snarling at me. If anger weren’t coursing through me, I might be afraid. Right now, I’m not. Instead, I only feel myself getting more furious. He refuses to see me as anything more than a child, and I can’t stand it.

“I’m a lot older than you, Jenna,” he says, laughing derisively. “I’ve seen a whole lot of basketball players. I’ve talked to them. I’ve heard from their wives and girlfriends. Not a goddamn one of them could confidently say they were being treated well.”

I grind my jaw, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. The urge to scream and throw a fit overcomes me, but I can’t do that. I need him to respect me as an adult, to understand that I know what I’m doing, and this is my life.

“You don’t know Oliver,” I say after taking a deep, steadying breath. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

My dad looks at me, completely unimpressed. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. The two of us just stand here, staring at each other, waiting for the other to break. I won’t break, though. I won’t.

Finally, my dad says, “You know what, Jenna? You win. You’ve always been stubborn as hell.”

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