Page 125 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“You can’t keep hittingpeople to solve your problems,” I say, handing Dad an ice pack along with the kind of look I remember him giving me as a kid when I did something foolish.

He doesn’t like it based on the scowl I get from him in return. But he does snatch the ice from me, placing it on his knuckles with a wince.

We’re in his office, though I’d rather be anywhere else.

Like … a doctor’s office waiting room filled with flu-ridden children dripping with snot.

Swimming through a crocodile-infested river in Australia.

Standing naked on a stage and being told I must deliver a speech I didn’t prepare for in front of every person I’ve ever known.

It’s entirely possible I’m being a little dramatic.

“In this case, I think my response was deserved,” Dad says.

I guess dramatic runs in the family.

“Really?” I ask dryly. “You think hitting one of your players—not by accident this time and inside the team facility instead of a church—was deserved?”

All because you found out I married Van?I want to add.

But I don’t. Because my dad still has a bullish look about him. And saying the M-word seems like it would be waving a very red flag.

He does drop his gaze, though, staring at the ice on his knuckles.

I stare at the top of his bald head, remembering how he cheerfully agreed to shave his combover for my wedding, even though the man was nothing if not dedicated to the little wispy hairs.

Was it just a few days ago he was thrilled about me starting work here, handing me a Taylor Swift lunch box?

The thought makes my heart hurt. I feel so far from where we were, where we’ve always been. Since Mom died, it was always Dad and me, against the world. But I realize now, sitting across the desk feeling much farther away, the cost of our closeness might have been me always agreeing with him. Always falling in line, following his rules.

When was the last time I disagreed with him out loud? I honestly can’t remember.

All of my current relationships are in shambles. My dad and I are not okay. I’m keeping a huge secret from Morgan.

And—I almost laugh at the absurdity of this one—my marriage is falling apart.

I don’t know how to fix any of them. I mean, telling Morgan the truth is the easiest place to start. But I can’t predict how she’ll react once she knows I’ve been lying about something so huge … or, not lying, exactly. Just keeping it from her.

Just like Van kept something from you?

Ouch. That was rude. True, but rude.

I really hope Van’s okay.

It took almost the entire team of hockey players to pull Dad away from Van. Meanwhile, Parker impressed me by single-handedly keeping Van’s sisters from tearing me limb from limb.

Alec and Winston, one of dad’s assistant coaches, managed to get all the guys out of the room and onto the ice, telling Dad to take a break while they handled practice.

And now … we’re here. Sitting in a silence so awkward and so poignantly painful that the air feels thick and noxious.

As Dad adjusts the ice over his knuckles, I wonder if Van’s face is better or worse than it was after my failed wedding. The man has taken one too many blows to the face for me.

“I just cannot believe this,” Dad says, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Me neither,” I mutter.

“Van. You marriedVan. Of all the bad decisions to make … you marriedhim.”

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