Page 98 of Dirty Pucking Player

And I need to talk to the person I trust the most in the world. I drop onto the couch. “I have to tell you something. And you’re not going to be very happy with me.”

He sucks in a deep breath. “You know whatever it is, we can work through it. We always do. As a team.”

I swallow through the emotion clogging my throat. “I…”

How do I explain what happened between Bash and me?

No matter what I say, it’s going to be awkward, but Dad had to handle all my teenage puberty stuff by himself, including giving me “the talk” when the time came. If he can do that, I can do this.

It’s just like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“Daddy, I slept with Bash Fury.” I cringe as I wait for him to respond.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Okay.”

“And Bob found out.”

“Oh…I assume that did not go over well.”

“That’s putting it mildly. He was furious, as he had every right to be. But he hasn’t made a decision about what he’s going to do. I might get fired. Bash might get traded. Or both.”

“Well, shit.” At least he understands the seriousness of the situation, and the disappointment in his voice slashes at my already shattered heart. “Seems like you’ve really got yourself in a jam, darlin’.”

I rub at my temple and squeeze my eyes shut. “I know, Dad. I really fucked up everything.”

“And how does Bash feel about all this?”

“I don’t know. We both took a pretty firm stance that neither of us was willing to give up our career, and we broke up even before Bob ever found out about us. Then we lost all the games right on the back end of that…”

“Do you think one had anything to do with the other?”

Could it?

Bash is an incredible player. I can’t see him letting personal shit get in the way of his game. But these flowers are evidence that he’s been thinking about me, thinking about us. And he was off the last few games. The last two at home, especially, so maybe he is struggling with this breakup more than I realized.

No.

This is Bash Fury I’m talking about. The man goes through women like most people go through clean underwear. I was just convenient. The flowers are just a game of some sort. Maybe a plea to let him stay if I don’t get fired. To try to gloss over any hard feelings so things won’t be awkward.

It can’t be anything more. Not from a man like him.

“I don’t think one has anything to do with the other, Dad. We just got beat. He had a few bad games.”

Dad sighs. “Is there anything you can do at this point?”

I’ve been wracking my brain for a week, trying to think of anything I can do or say to make things better with Bob, to get his trust and confidence back. To get to the way things were before Sebastian Fury came to the Scorpions.

But absolutely nothing has come to mind.

“Not really. Other than wait and hope Bob doesn’t fire me.”

“And if he trades Bash instead?” Dad pauses and waits for me to consider the question. “Is that something you can live with?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

He chuckles, and the familiar soft sound tinkles through the phone and warms my heart in the way only it can. “You always have choices in life, Greer. It’s just some of them are harder to make than others.”

* * *

---