Page 75 of Tough Score

"Wait—Split the check?—Get a rideshare?" he says, holding up a hand to stop me. "You caught me off guard. Just give me a second to wrap my brain around this."

I sit back against my chair, pulling my hands off the table and pull my arms around my waist protectively.

"Do you remember how I told you that my mother divorced my father after he lost our house because he gambled the note away?" I nod, the story coming back to my memory. "And do you remember how I told you that my dad is a bigger soccer fan than me and always dreamed I'd play professionally?" I nod again. "Keely, he bet our house on the World Cup and lost. That was the bet that cost me my family."

I let out a shaky breath.

So many of the death threats we received were from people who had lost money on the game. People who lost their families like Jaxson did because they bet their life savings, retirement, children's college funds, or other assets. And though I won't defend my father's actions, it's impossible to know which team would have won that night if it hadn't been fixed. All those people would have lost anyway if the team my dad paid off did win the game that night.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Jaxson. I really am," I say, my eyes darting away from him and down at my half-eaten meal, which I'm no longer hungry enough to eat.

He runs a hand through his hair and blows out a breath.

"It's not your fault. I don't blame you for what your father did or for the detrimental decisions my father made that led to our family imploding—in my father's case, it would have happened eventually. But the thing is… I'll never be able to introduce you to my mom. My parents just barely got back on speaking terms, agreeing to a ceasefire for my brother's wedding. Bringing you into the mix now will stir up old hurt that she's finally buried for my brother's sake."

My father's sins strike again.

I can't hide the disappointment and hurt on my face.

"This hurts me more than it will hurt you," he says.

I cock an eyebrow at him. "Why would you say that?"

"Because he's been waiting, hoping I'll step out of line, and the minute I do, he's going to step in to fill my spot."

Step in to fill his spot?

"Who?"

His eyes soften toward me. There are no hard feelings in his eyes—just matched disappointment.

"You know who."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Reeve

I pull up to Oakley's house, my heart racing as I park behind Keely's car and glance up the stairs nestled against the garage that I assume lead to her studio apartment. With the cold, overcast fall day, it's nice to see the warm glow of the lights on in her apartment.

It's been a couple of days since the team and I arrived back from our away games. I've been meaning to make it over here sooner but with me back on the ice, I've been training as much as Coach Bex will allow and then I'm back to my apartment to ice my knee. It still swells up after a long day of practice, but I'll take a freezing ice pack, over warming a bench any day.

"Hey there," I hear Oakley call out, standing on a ladder and scooping out leaves from his house gutters. "Are you here to see Keely?"

"Yeah. And I bought that TV you told me she didn't have. Can you help me take it up the stairs?" I ask.

"On my way," he says and starts coming down the ladder.

While out of town I had a nagging feeling that I needed to do something for her new apartment. A housewarming present—a "congrats on the new job" gift—a "thank you for getting me back on the ice"… I wanted to get her something big enough to cover all of that. I knew if I asked her what she needed for the apartment, she'd tell me not to spend my money, but I have more money than I can spend and she deserves it. So I went over her head and asked Oakley what she still needed for the apartment.

He said that she doesn't have a TV yet and since I know she likes those documentaries that we watch together, I figured it was the best choice. Plus, with a TV, it's not like trying to pick out a couch for her— it's not likely I'll pick the wrong size, color or style.

Smart TV—black—flatscreen— sixty inches… done.

The stairs creak slightly under our feet as we ascend up the stairs, me walking backward all the way up while Oakley follows behind, gripping the other end of the television box.

"Had to buy the biggest one you could find, huh?" he says with a playful huff.

It's not heavy and not even close to the biggest TV in the store. It might be big for a studio apartment, but I wanted it to be big enough for her to see from her bed. Though I just about drop my side of the TV when I think about Jaxson being in that bed with her.