Page 54 of Roughing the Player
I stomp over to his side. “What was I supposed to say? That you knocked me up?”
“Yes!”
“You were headed for football glory. Last thing you wanted was a child. You said it yourself at the Hilton. It would have been a disaster if you had a kid.”
“I could have done something.”
“Like what? Pay for an abortion?” I jerk up my chin.
“God. No. I would have never asked that of you. I could have helped with expenses.”
“How? You had no money of your own. It was all your father’s.”
“I would have begged, borrowed or stolen. I would have crawled to him for money for my kid.” Unable to stand still, he strides up and down the living room, eating up the space.
“He never would have given it to you.”
He whirls back around. “Oh, yes, he damn well would have. All I would have had to do is threaten him with a scandal. That’s the last thing he would have wanted. He would have handed over the money to shut me up.” He marches forward until he’s towering over me. “God. All these years, Ellie. I could have made life easier for you. I could have made life easier for her.”
Butch nudges Brock’s hand, licks mine. He’s trying to make peace between us. What does it say about us that a dog is more mature than we are?
“Yelling at each other won’t solve anything, Brock. You better go. I have to talk to Kaylee.” And somehow make her understand.
A gamut of emotions roll across his face—anger, frustration, helplessness. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, there’s a measure of calm there. “Maybe we should both talk to her.”
“No!” He can’t step into the role of her father. I won’t allow it.
A cold anger seems to settles within him as he points a finger to me. “You’re not shutting me out of her life. That’s my child in there.”
I hitch up my chin. “Watch me.”
He taps his chest with a closed fist. “I have rights. Rights I will exercise, legally if you force me.”
“Get out. Get out now.” I push at him, but he doesn’t budge. Only when Butch whines again does he move toward the door.
With his large hand on the door frame, he fires one last salvo at me. “I want to talk to my daughter, Ellie. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to explain things to her. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll contact my lawyer, and we’ll settle this in court.” And then he storms out, slamming the door behind him.
In an effort to calm down, I take a deep breath before heading to Kaylee’s room. Butch, ever the peacekeeper, tags along. As soon as we get there, he jumps on her bed and licks her face.
She’s not having any and pushes him away. “Get away from me, you stupid dog.”
But I can see her heart’s not in it, and when he does it again, she lets him.
Butch glances at me, a clear message in his big, brown eyes. ‘Do something.’
“He’s my father, isn’t he?” When I don’t answer quick enough, she screams. “Isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie to me?”
“I thought it was the best thing to do.”
“He didn’t know?”
“No. I never told him. He was seventeen, Kaylee, a senior in high school. He had his whole life ahead of him. I didn’t want to ruin his future.”
Her breath hitches, and a sob escapes her. “You mean like I ruined yours?”
