Page 92 of The Curveball
To hold back seems pointless. He already owns my heart. Still, it’s upsetting such an important night is clouded by the ego of my father.
It’s a betrayal, sharp and deep.
One thing. I asked for one thing, and my dad couldn’t honor it. No doubt, to him, I’m being nothing but a silly woman, holding a grudge.
Beneath the table, my knee bounces. I force myself to focus only on Griffin as he steps behind Parker at the podium. Parker introduces the idea of the Future All-Stars, gives a few statistics on how many kids have benefited from the program, and describes some future plans.
As Parker talks about plans for future scholarships for college students, my eyes drift. Throat tight, hands sweaty, I peek over my shoulder. Why? I don’t know, it’s almost a compulsion to see if he’s truly here.
The moment I find my father’s table, Clay’s dark eyes are narrowed and aimed at me.
It’s a frustrating mix of hate and desire. There is an unnerving smirk on his face. Like a piece of him still wants me, or wants to break me.
I’m freaking myself out and spin back around, eyes schooled on my lap.
After a few breaths, I look back to the stage, and want to throw up all over again. Griffin’s beautiful golden eyes are dark, like a shadow fills his irises. He glares at Clay’s table, then looks at me.
“Griffin,” Parker repeats his name twice before he snaps out of his glare. Parker covers the awkward moment with a laugh. “Griffin Marks, ladies and gentlemen.”
The room applauds as Griffin steps forward. A woman on the side of the stage ushers six kids forward.
I blow out a breath of relief when Griffin’s kind, exuberant expression returns.
Pulling out my phone, I FaceTime Giana. She answers quietly. I give her a wave and flip it around so she can watch Griffin’s part of the speech.
“Every year we like to give special recognition to some of our Future All-Stars,” he says.
The room applauds for the kids, and Griffin starts in on the awards for their performance on their teams throughout the last year.
He’s a marvel to watch. Kind. Genuine. I can’t get enough.
By the time awards are given, he has each kid beaming and filled with prizes, jerseys, and scholarships for more years on their teams. Parker, Griffin, and the All-Star committee are due for pictures, and are quickly mauled by photographers and sponsors.
I blow Giana a kiss and tell her to feel better before we disconnect the call.
“Come on,” Skye says, tapping my knee. “They’ll be awhile. Let’s hit the dessert table.”
“You read my mind.”
“Wren.” Carter grabs my wrist. “We’re going to talk to Grant. Stay close.”
He nods at Skye, but I’m sure I’m the only one who notices.
“I will.” I force a smile and watch as my brothers and Emma head across the room.
In the back of my head, I pretend like the face of my past isn’t here. I pretend my own father isn’t here. Before we reach the dessert buffet table, two more big bodies are at our sides. Ryder and Dax followed, chests puffed up, scowls in place.
I laugh. It can’t be helped.
“What?” Ryder asks.
“You guys look like you’re part of the Mob.”
“Good.” Ryder tugs on his cuffs. “That’s the point.”
“Where are your dates?” Skye asks.
“Taking selfies with Noah,” Dax mutters. He doesn’t seem all that disappointed.