Page 21 of The Players We Hate
“I know who his sister is,” my father said, voice tightening. “We were past it. Or weshould’vebeen. But Wells couldn’t let it go. He made it personal, and I had to step in.”
Silence stretched between his words. I could hear the quiet clink of ice against glass as he swirled his drink.
“He was furious, but I did what had to be done. She kept quiet—no headlines, no scandal. That was the agreement. I never expected her to leave town. That was pure luck. Now Wells can keep his focus where it belongs.”
I didn’t realize I was gripping the doorframe until my fingers ached.
The girl.
Left quietly.
Is he talking about Tatum?
And suddenly, it all clicked. The weight in Talon’s voice when he brought up my being in his house. The way he said my name, and how I dismissed it. The look in his eyes, every Perry at his door another reminder of a wound that never closed.
I thought it was only about who my father was and the weight of my last name.
I didn’t realize it waspersonal.
Because I never connected the dots. I never realized the girl my brother hurt, the same one he dated and my father protected to save our image, was Talon’ssister.
And Talon?
He knew exactly who I was. And he still kissed me. Still touched me. Still let me bring down my walls without him ever saying why it was complicated.
I staggered back a step, something sharp and bitter crawling up my throat. The door creaked under my weight, but my father kept talking, too absorbed in the call to notice.
“If Pierce starts making noise,” he said, voice lower now, colder, “we may have to reassess. There’s only so far talent will carry him if he becomes a liability.”
The air was sucked from the hallway.
“He wants to play professionally? Fine. Then he needs to keep his mouth shut and stay focused. If he doesn’t…” A pause followed. “Let’s just say it’d be disappointing if he ended up injured. I know people who can make sure his season ends sooner than expected. Injuries happen. Eligibility reviews can always be reopened. No one asks questions when it looks official.”
I swayed where I stood. My body reacted before my brain did, nausea curling low in my stomach, sour and sharp. I’d spent years studying PR and crisis management, believing this program could let me change things from the inside out one day.
And now I was in the hallway of my family’s lake house, listening to the governor of the state—my father—talk about sabotaging a college athlete’s future as if it were a favor he could trade over cocktails.
Talon’s name wasn’t just mentioned.
It wastargeted.
My father saw him as a threat, and the truth was, he wasn’t wrong. Talon had every reason to want to burn hisworld to the ground. Wells hurt his sister, and my father covered it up. Just like he covered anything that might crack the image he was desperate to protect.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, and the wall suddenly became the only thing keeping me upright. My pulse hammered behind my ribs.
Talon didn’t tell me who he was. He didn’t spell it out. Maybe he thought I already knew. Perhaps he thought I was complicit. As if I had gone there with full awareness of what my family had done and still wanted him anyway.
God, he must hate me for it.
I needed to find him. Now.
I needed to tell him the truth. I didn’t know. I never would’ve let it happen if I had. I wouldn’t have let him touch me or let it get that far. I’d understood what I was walking into.
And more than that… I needed answers.
What exactly did Wells do? What else did my father bury, and how much deeper did it go?
I needed the truth, but I also needed time.
