Page 77 of Second Quarter Comeback
Before he can answer, his gaze shifts to Killion, who’s standing by the dining table, calm as ever. That, of course, only makes my dad’s expression darken further.
“Why is this man in your house?” he asks, though the disdain dripping from his tone makes it clear he already knows.
Stepping closer to Killion, I reply evenly, “We were having dinner.”
My mother’s lips press into a tight line, her expression so disapproving it could probably curdle milk. “Killion Crawford,” she says, her tone icy enough to freeze the room. “The football player is already in your house. I thought I made myself clear.”
Killion looks between them and then at me, his expression polite but unbothered. “Mr. and Mrs. Ashby, it’s nice to see you again,” he says smoothly, as if this is just a casual meeting and not my parents attempting a hostile takeover of my life.
“What is he doing here?” my father demands again,his gaze snapping back to me like I’ve personally betrayed him.
I lift my chin, refusing to shrink under his stare. “I told you, we were having dinner. And we’re seeing each other.”
My mother’s eyes narrow, her lips twitching like she’s trying to hold back some cutting remark and failing miserably. “Camille, this isn’t the kind of man you should be associating with.”
“He’s not right for you,” my father says bluntly. “And you’re not eighteen anymore and naive enough to believe this could work.” He continues, his voice cold and clipped, “He’s an athlete. A transient career with no stability. You need someone who can offer you more. Someone who can support your future, not jeopardize it.”
Killion lets out a scoff, stepping forward. “Mytransient careerincludes a $275 million contract over four years that’ll increase next yearifI re-sign,” he says, his tone measured but with enough bite to make my dad blink. “But sure, call me unstable if it makes you feel better. For the record, I do have a future, and I could absolutely take care of your daughter if she let me. Not that she needs me to—Camille’s a successful, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to?—”
“Exactly,” I cut in, glaring at my parents. “Which is why I don’t understand why you’re here. We had an agreement. You respected the space I needed, and I would consider forgiving you for interfering with mylife. Remember that? Because this—” I gesture between them and Killion “—this is not space.”
“You’re making a mistake,” my mother says, her tone cold enough to frost the windows. “We’re just looking after you.”
“No, you’re trying to control me,” I snap, my voice rising despite my best efforts.
Before I can say more, Killion steps forward, calm and collected. “With all due respect, Mr. and Mrs. Ashby, Camille doesn’t need anyone deciding her life for her. She’s strong, smart, and capable of making her own choices. And as for me,” he pauses, his voice softening as he glances at me, “I might not have your approval, but I love her. And I’m not going anywhere this time.”
My father’s jaw tightens, his hands clenching at his sides. “I’ll ruin you, Killion Crawford.”
Killion doesn’t flinch. Not even a little. He steps closer, meeting my dad’s glare head-on. “You can try,” he says evenly. “But I’ve faced tougher opponents on the field and off. What I won’t do is back down when it comes to Camille. Not this time. So, if you want to talk about ruining someone, you’re better off focusing on rebuilding whatever relationship you have with her, because I’m not the one standing in your way. You are.”
My father’s face darkens further, but my mother steps in, her voice cutting through the tension. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” she says, her eyes narrowing on Killion.
“No, ma’am,” Killion replies smoothly. “Just honest. Camille deserves to be happy. And if that’s with me, great. If not, I’ll respect her choice. But that choice? It’s hers to make. Not yours. And maybe you should think about the future, because if she agrees to marry me and have a family . . . well, that family won’t be near you if you are not supporting her.”
I can’t help the way my breath catches at his words. He glances at me then, his eyes warm, grounding me in a way I didn’t even realize I needed.
My mom opens her mouth to respond, but my dad cuts her off, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t over.”
“It should be, Dad,” I respond. “You need to back down, accept that I can make my own decisions and support me. I’m in a relationship with Kill, and if things go further I hope you change your attitude.”
“We’ll see,” Dad says. And just like that, my parents turn and walk out without even saying goodbye.
Killion exhales, turning to me with a small, self-deprecating grin. “So, dinner went great, huh?”
Despite everything, I laugh. “You really know how to win over a room.”
“Hey, I tried,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not exactlyMeet the Parentsmaterial, but I’m working on it. Maybe next time, they’ll be less . . . asshole-y and more, I don’t know, welcoming?”
A laugh bubbles out of me despite everything. “They’re good and loving—until you don’t do whatthey say. Then it’s like they’re auditioning for some mobster movie or series. Typical controlling parents.”
His lips twitch into a grin. “Ah, so I’m dating someone in the mob. That explains the intimidation tactics. I hope I passed this test.”
I shake my head, but the smile lingers. “You’re doing fine,” I say softly. “They are more bark than bite.”
He takes a small step closer, his expression softening as he brushes a strand of hair away from my face. His fingertips barely graze my skin, but the sensation sends a quiet thrill through me.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and steady, like he’s trying to ground me in this moment.
