Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
~AUGUST~
Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. Hendrix ended up leaving me there and I was forced to stay with Drew and my father, who refused to leave us alone after she left. I kept hearing him call her “the help” in my mind and, fuck, that pisses me off!
So much that it has me making my way to his office on a Sunday morning. Because where else would my father be but at his own office, building his empire.
Maxwell’s office is exactly the same as it always was.
Cold.
Expensive.
Created to impress everyone that I couldn’t care less about.
The floor-to-ceiling windows, the glass desk, the framed awards that mean nothing outside this room.
I stand in the doorway, jaw tight.
Maxwell doesn’t look up from the laptop that he’s typing away on. “If this is about the WNBA team, I already told you—”
“It’s not about the team right now,” I reply.
That gets his attention. He looks up at me and leans back in his large black leather chair. “Then what is it?”
“Hendrix,” I say simply, like he should know that already.
A flicker, maybe it’s annoyance, crosses his face. “August, we’ve discussed this. She was a distraction and you need to focus.”
“No,” I say gripping the doorframe before stepping fully into the room. “You just don’t like her for whatever reason.”
Dad just shakes this head. “She’s not right for you.”
“She was young back then and now she’s a professional soccer player, Dad. I think that makes her good enough for me,” I say, defending her.
His expression doesn’t change, though. “She’s beneath you.”
My hands curl into fists. “Say that again.”
He sighs at me, like he’s annoyed that I even think this is a conversation that we should be having. “You have a hell of a career ahead of you, son. The same way that you did back in college. You need someone who understands our world. Clearly she does not.”
“She is my world,” I argue.
Silence, heavy and sharp, fills the room.
We’re playing chicken with words, like whoever speaks first will lose this battle. But Dad does and we all know that he doesn’t lose.
“You’re being emotional,” he says, shaking his head with disdain. If there is one thing that Maxwell Cromwell doesn’t do well, it’s emotions.
“I’m being honest,” I say plainly.
“You’re overreacting, August. There are a million girls out there. Someone who is more appropriate for you. You’ll find them, I know you will.”
“No,” I reply, stepping closer to him. “I’m reacting the right way based on the fact that you humiliated her. You made her feel so small. You made her think she isn’t good enough for me.”
“She’s not,” he says with a shrug, like it’s as simple as that.
I laugh. A short, humorless sound. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m your father,” he reminds me with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“And I’m not a kid anymore.”
Maxwell’s jaw tightens. “You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment.”
“’Sentiment?” I say, shaking my head, repeating the word back at him. “You think this is about sentiment?”
He leans forward, bracing his arms on the desk.
“You broke her, me and us. And the worst part of it is, you don’t even care,” I spit at him.
But dear old Dad doesn’t even flinch. “You’re exaggerating.”
“No,” I reply. “I’m remembering.”
I straighten and let out a long breath.
“You told her that she was a distraction. You told her that she’d ruin my future. You told her she wasn’t worth the trouble. And last night you called her ‘the help.’”
Maxwell shrugs and states, “I told her the truth.”
I shake my head slowly, my voice coming out cold. “No. You told her your truth. The one where everything is about control, image and whatever you think I should be.”
His voice sharpens. “I was protecting you.”
“From what?” I ask him. “From loving someone? From being happy?”
He doesn’t answer.
I exhale loudly. This argument and this conversation is getting so old. The anger sets in, something steadier, and colder this time.
“You don’t get to talk about her like she’s nothing. Not anymore, and not ever again. Because you are so wrong about her.”
His eyes narrow on me. “Are you seeing her again? That thing at the charity event last night wasn’t just a one-time thing?”
I stare him down, attempting to level him with a glare. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is if it affects your career.”
“It won’t,” I say. “But even if it did? I would choose her.”
Dad’s expressions cracks just a bit. Just a fraction so that I can see the surprise creeping through.
I step back from the desk, trying to count this as a victory on my side.
“You don’t get to hurt her again,” I tell him. “And you don’t get to hurt me through her.”
His voice comes out low and cold. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” I say, turning towards the door. “I made a mistake when I listened to you the first time.” I pause in the doorway and look back at him. “I’m not doing that this time.”
I walk out, leaving the great Maxwell Cromwell alone with his thoughts.
Once I’ve left his office, I make my way to my own. There has to be something that I can do to keep on working here. Some legal loophole that Dad can’t wiggle out of and take away the company that I’m supposed to own.
Thankfully, when I reach the Blaze offices, they are empty.
It’s a Sunday so none of the office staff should be there; however, I wasn’t sure if the coaches would be there.
Sometimes when it’s just me and a coach or two, they find their way to my office so that we can talk.
The front office staff not being there suddenly makes them bolder and they come up.
I like it when they do, normally. Any other day I would welcome the conversations and collaboration that we have.
But thankfully, they are not here today. So, I can have peace.
Hours later, the sun is creeping across the floor and illuminating the wall with a soft orange glow. I’m working away on sponsorship proposals and answering emails when I see a figure standing at the entrance of my office.
Dad is here.
Standing in the doorway like he owns the building, suit immaculate, expression unreadable.
I stare at him and shake my head. “No, absolutely not. You do not get to show up here.”
He smiles at me. The kind of smile that tells me he’s out to ruin something. “Relax, I’m here on business.”
“You don’t have any business here,” I remind him.
“I do now,” Maxwell says, straightening his cuffs. “The league is in the process of approving the new expansion of the WNBA here in Tampa. They want you.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“It’s a massive opportunity. To take the team from the ground up the same way that you have here.” He says the words like it’s a no-brainer for me to leave the Blaze and start a new organization for him.
“I’m not really done with what I’ve built here. The season is still going on. How can they be so sure that they want me with that team?”
“You would make a great face of this franchise,” he explains.
I cross my arms across my chest. “And you think I’ll go because you say so.”
“I know you will. I just hope that you won’t screw it up with all this nonsense.”
There it is.
The hook.
The threat that is wrapped up in praise. The way he thinks he can get me to turn my back on the Blaze and on Hendrix.
“Just say what you came here to say,” I tell him, exhaling slowly.
Dad steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “You can’t stay with the Blaze.”
My jaw tightens as I fight the urge to grip the edge of my desk.
“Because it’s small,” he says, as if that explains everything, before adding, “It’s becoming beneath you.”
“It wasn’t beneath me when you started this organization and said that I would be running it. What changed?” I ask him, even though I know damn well what has changed.
“Because she’s here.”
I feel the heat rise in my chest. “Don’t.”
“Hendrix is a distraction,” he says, teeing up his favorite argument. “She always has been. And if you stay here, tied to her, tied to this, this team, you will never reach your full potential.”
I stare at him. “So, this is the ultimatum.”
He nods once. “Join the new team. Step into the spotlight that you were meant for. Or stay here and throw your career away because I will just have you replaced if you fight me on this.”
I laugh at him mockingly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m realistic,” he replies. “You’re wasting time. You’re wasting talent. And you’re wasting your time on a girl who—”
“Finish that sentence,” I tell him in a low tone.
He hesitates. Just for a beat, but enough.
I rise from behind my desk. “You think I’m going to leave the Blaze because you snapped your fingers? You think I’m going to walk away from people who actually give a damn about me? From the place where I finally feel like I’m not drowning?”
His expression hardens. “You’re choosing comfort over greatness.”
“No,” I say. “I’m choosing myself.”
“And Hendrix?” he asks. “Are you choosing her too?”
I glare at him. “Yes.”
Dad’s jaw clenches. “Then you’ll be making a big mistake.”
“No,” I reply. “I made a mistake when I let you dictate my life all those years ago. I’m not doing that again.”
I watch as he shakes his head. When he speaks again, his tone is a warning. “If you stay here, you’re done. No new team to build and you’re out of the will.”
I shake my head. “If the price of that future is losing myself, or hurting her again, then I don’t want it.”
Dad stares at me, stunned. Like this was not the outcome that he was expecting from me.
I sit back down and pick up my pen, ready to work again. “We’re done here. And if you try and go through Hendrix to get to me, that’ll be the last time that we speak.”
“You have no idea what you are doing, August.” He says it as a warning.
I don’t respond to him. I don’t need to. My dad walks away and for the first time, I actually feel a little proud that I have stood up for myself and that I might have won this round.
But the war is far from over. He’ll never let it go this easily.
I pick up my phone and dial the only person that could possibly understand right now. I dial Drew and wait for him to pick up.
“What’s up, man? How are things? How is Hendrix after last night? Did you make it over to see her yet so that you could apologize for our asshole of a father?” Drew asks me in a rush.
I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No, I haven’t spoken to her yet. She is ignoring my phone calls and texts. I may go over there and talk to her but right now I’m trying to give her some space. I decided to talk to Dad instead.”
“Oh, August,” he says, sighing into the phone. “How did that go?”
I chuckle. “Well, it didn’t go as bad as I thought it was going to go. He was eerily calm. However, he is not bending on not wanting me around Hendrix, nor is he bending on letting me out of managing the WNBA team. He thinks the space from Hendrix and a new team will help me get over her.”
“I thought you were going to let me handle the WNBA thing?” Drew asks, sounding a little annoyed with me.
“Well, in my defense he brought that back onto the table. I was just letting him know that he should not be treating Hendrix that way. That she deserved better than being called ‘the help’ last night.”
“Yeah, that was low even for him,” Drew says. “I was hoping that you would have gone home with her last night.” He says the words tentatively, like he’s not sure this isn’t going to piss me off.
“I know that I should have, but she was so angry with me. I wanted to drive her home but, believe me, she was not going to let that happen,” I inform him. “What else was I supposed to do? Take her anyways?”
“Maybe space was a good idea then,” he says, agreeing with me. “Do you think that you’ll be able to fix this with her?”
“I hope so because I sort of dug in with Dad and told him that there was no way that I was giving her up this time. I meant every word I said. But if she doesn’t want me around, all of this was for nothing,” I say, shaking my head.
“No, I wouldn’t look at it that way. You stood up for yourself.
Who knows if this is over with Hendrix. Not backing down was a good first step with him.
And letting him know that he cannot disrespect Hendrix was also a good move.
Now you just have to wait and see what happens.
See how he reacts and also how things go with her.
” Drew chuckles. “Who would have thought that you would still be having girl problems with Dad all these years later?”
“It’s not funny. I can’t believe he still thinks that he can pull this crap with me. It disgusts me that he thinks it’s still acceptable for him to tell me what I can and cannot do. Like I’m some kind of child.”
“Well, Dad is used to getting his way,” he reminds me.
“But he doesn’t pull this shit with you,” I fire back.
“No, no he doesn’t. But I’m also not dating my goalkeeper, someone he disapproved of many years ago. So that could be why.” I can tell he’s trying to make me smile, but it’s not working.
“I get it. Not the best choice of who to date, but it’s her,” I remind him.
“It is. And I love that you talk about her like this. It’s so cute how smitten you are with her. I’ve never seen you like this over a girl. It’s kind of great. She must be something really special.”
“You met her. You tell me.” I grin into the phone, finally smiling. Of course, it would be over something that relates to her.
“Yeah, she is pretty great,” he admits. “We’ll figure this out, August. Don’t worry, he won’t get the last say this time. You and me, we’ll figure this out.”
“Thanks, Drew. I appreciate the support.”
“That’s what I’m here for, little brother,” he replies.
We hang up and I turn my chair, staring out at the practice field. I suddenly wish that she was out there so that I could at least see her. Tomorrow night, she’ll be on the game field. I guess I have to wait until then to catch a glimpse of the woman I would give all this up for.