CHAPTER 10 DANNY
“There’s a lot at play here, Alexis. But what you haven’t considered is how hurtful it is that you married someone and told me after the fact. What you two did is immature and childish, only proving that I’ve been treating you the way you deserve to be treated your entire life.” He shakes his head with disgust, and he stalks out of the room.
She stares after him, sighing as her gaze stays on his retreating back. “We shouldn’t have come.”
I wait until he’s out of earshot. “We had to, Lex. We’re here for answers, and we’re not leaving until we have them. Let me go in there and give it a try.”
She sighs, but she relents as she nods. “Fine. But be careful.”
I huff out a chuckle. “I can take him.”
She purses her lips at me and nods down the hallway. “He’s likely in his study. Go down the long hallway, turn to your left, and it’s the first room.”
“Thanks.” I drop my lips down to hers for a beat to give us both a little extra strength in this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”
She nods, and then she heads toward the stairs so she can get her pillow and other personal effects from her bedroom, and I head in the direction he just walked.
I peek into some of the rooms on my way as I look for him, my chest tingling with nerves as I go. I’m about to confront my wife’s father, which sounds scary. I’m not scared of him, exactly, but I still have to force one foot in front of the other.
I’d really rather be just about anywhere else other than here doing this right now.
But as I remind myself, I’m doing this for her.
She deserves answers. She deserves her money. She deserves the world, and this man stopped giving that to her long ago.
I intend to find out why.
I find him in a sprawling study. Bookcases line the walls, and a heavy executive desk sits in front of them. He’s standing as he stares up at something on one of the bookcases—I think a framed photo on one of those shelves behind his desk.
I knock on the doorframe loudly both to interrupt his thoughts and to announce my arrival.
He whirls around at the sound, and he tosses a paper he’s holding down onto his desk. “What do you want?” he snarls at me.
I step into the room and close the door behind me. I have some accusations I’m about to hurl at him, and I don’t want Alexis to worry until she has a reason to. I don’t know that she’d be able to hear us since I just watched her walk upstairs, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.
I don’t want her to worry until I uncover the real truth behind whatever’s going on here.
“I know you didn’t freeze her assets, and I’m here to find out what you did with Alexis’s money. Does it have something to do with why you were trying to force the merger?” I demand as I walk a little closer to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he scoffs, and he takes a step toward me—almost defensively and almost like he’s trying to keep me away from his desk. “All I know is that you are ruining her and her brand with your bad boy of baseball bullshit.”
“Why are you doing this, Mr. Bodega?” I ask. I never thought I’d have a father-in-law, and either way, I’m not real formal with most adults. Still, this feels like the type of situation that warrants the title.
I try to get a view of the paper he set down, but I can’t see it from here.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “We had it all lined up, and then you had to come in and fuck it up.” He takes a menacing step toward me that really isn’t nearly as menacing as he thinks it is, and I take a step toward him, too—mostly so I can get a look at the paper. I’m not sure why, but my gut is telling me there’s something on it that I need to see. Maybe because of his reaction when I walked into the room. He threw it down on the desk like it was on fire.
His eyes fall to my ring finger, and I flex my fingers a little at the feel of his eyes on it.
“It was all set,” he mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself and not me. “We were so close. All she had to do was walk down the aisle, and then you ruined it all.” His eyes are angry venom as they flick to mine and back to my ring. “You don’t deserve to be wearing that ring.”
He ambles toward me, closing the gap between us, and he reaches for my ring finger. He lunges for my finger as if he’s going to pull the ring off, and I shift away from him out of pure instinct to protect my hands at all costs.
He lunges at me again, and this time he trips into me, knocking me down to the ground as he attempts to grab my hand. I tear my hand away from him and it ends up on the ground first, breaking my fall as he crashes down on top of me, the two of us landing on the floor with a thud…my wrist bearing the brunt of the weight.
A throbbing, severe pain rockets through me as a snapping sound fills the quiet room. Maybe it doesn’t—maybe it’s just in my own head—but I definitely hear it, and I definitely feel it.
I gasp in agony.
He rolls off of me, and I sit up and move my left hand in front of my face, already knowing exactly what happened.
My eyes shift down to my wrist, which is hanging at an odd angle as the sharp, searing pain registers in my brain.
I already know it’s broken.
The pain is intense.
It’s not the first broken bone I’ve had in my life. Fingers, my ankle, my nose.
But this is my wrist.
I need this wrist to catch. I play first base. Every position is important, but anywhere from eighteen to twenty-one percent of plays are made at first.
I need this wrist to bat. I need it to stand at home plate, usually third in the batting order since I’m a power hitter, with the bat perched over my right shoulder, feet apart and knees bent as I wait for the ball to come firing at me.
This injury is going to set me back weeks. Maybe months.
We’re at the end of December. I report for training camp two months from today. Opening day for our regular season starts in three months.
I don’t have months to nurse an injury back to health.
But I don’t have any choice. My wrist is broken.
I can only pray there’s no nerve damage. I can only hope it’s just a clean break.
But either way, this wouldn’t have happened if not for the man sitting beside me on the floor. The same man who doesn’t even realize what he just did to me. He doesn’t realize my wrist is broken and it’s because of him.
My father-in-law.
“What have you done?”