Chapter 14
TALIA
Busted
I’m in a stupidly good mood.
Like, embarrassingly good.
I caught Jake checking me out earlier, and I know I didn’t imagine it.
He also came home early. Suspiciously early.
And now he wants to watch a movie together?
Huh.
I played it cool, obviously. Like my heart wasn’t doing acrobatics in my chest.
But I feel light. Giddy. Ridiculously happy.
I spent the entire day painting, actually making progress. Then I treated myself to a slow yoga session, and now I’m heating up food for him before our movie night.
It feels… nice.
I don’t think much of it when the doorbell rings.
Jake heads for the door, and I call out playfully, “Who is it, hubby?”
I grin to myself when there’s silence for a second.
Probably Jake scowling. About to tell me to stop calling him that.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, I hear another voice.
And it does not belong here.
My smile fades before I even fully register it.
I would recognize that voice anywhere.
For a second, my brain refuses to process it.
No.
He can’t be here.
But then I hear Jake’s voice, tight and controlled. “Coach.”
Ice floods my veins.
Heavy footsteps follow.
And then my father steps into the room.
He looks like he came straight from the rink, coat still on, shoulders squared. His presence fills the space instantly. His eyes are sharp and furious and locked onto me like I’m a target.
“Talia,” he snaps.
The sound of my name in his voice is enough to make my throat close up.
He doesn’t look at Jake at first. Not really. Jake is just a shape in the doorway.
My father’s focus is on me.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, each word like a punch. “What is going on?”
I force my face into something cool and neutral.
Like my entire nervous system isn’t screaming.
“Hi, Dad,” I say brightly. Too brightly.
His eyes narrow immediately.
“Do not ‘hi, Dad’ me.” His gaze flicks around the house, taking in the entryway, the flowers on the table, the faint smell of food, the way the place feels lived in.
His nostrils flare.
Then he turns his glare back on Jake.
“And you,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “Explain.”
Jake stands perfectly still, shoulders squared, jaw tight. He looks like a man bracing for impact.
“Coach,” Jake says again, calm but controlled. “This isn’t—”
“It is exactly what it looks like,” my dad cuts in.
My stomach flips.
Because what it looks like is the worst possible version of the truth.
I step forward quickly, trying to wedge myself between them in a way that doesn’t look like I’m choosing sides.
“Dad, you can’t just barge in here,” I say, aiming for firm.
He whips his head toward me.
“I can do whatever I want when my daughter is calling my captain ‘hubby’ in his house,” he snaps.
My cheeks burn.
I force a laugh, desperate to lighten it. “It was an expression.”
His eyes go icy. “You told me you were staying with a friend.”
“I am,” I say quickly.
His brow lifts in pure disbelief. “This is your friend?”
My brain races.
I need an angle. A story. A reason.
Something that doesn’t sound insane. Something that isn’t we got drunk and married in Vegas and now we don’t know how to undo it.
Jake’s voice cuts in, low and steady. “Coach, if you want to talk—”
“I want to know why my daughter is in your house,” my dad says, sharp. “And why she’s using married language.”
I feel like I’m about to throw up.
I glance at Jake for half a second.
He’s looking at my dad, calm on the outside, but I can see the tension in the way his hands flex once at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to do something.
My father takes a step further into the house, like he owns it.
Like he owns us.
“Are you sleeping with him?” he demands.
My heart stutters.
“Dad,” I say, trying to sound annoyed instead of terrified. “That’s not—”
“Answer me,” he barks.
I swallow hard.
Jake shifts slightly, just a fraction closer to me, like he’s ready to step in.
It makes my chest tighten.
It also makes my dad’s gaze sharpen.
He notices.
His eyes narrow, his attention shifting fully to Jake now. He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Are. You. Sleeping. With. Her?”
I step forward automatically, panic surging. Trying to stop this before it escalates. Before everything explodes.
But Jake beats me to it. “Coach,” he says, his voice calm. Steady. Controlled in a way that makes my father’s anger glance off instead of sinking in. “We should sit down.”
My dad lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Excuse me?”
“Sit down,” Jake repeats, steady. “And talk about this calmly.”
I glance at Jake, startled by the choice of words. Calmly. As if my father has ever been calm about anything that threatens his control.
My dad’s eyes narrow like he’s deciding whether to explode harder or accept the suggestion just to prove he’s in charge either way.
“We’re not having a casual chat,” my dad says coldly.
Jake doesn’t flinch. “If you want answers, this is the way you get them.”
My heart stutters.
Answers.
Oh God.
The truth sits there like a live grenade in Jake’s mouth.
I see it in the flex of his jaw. In the way his eyes flick to mine for half a second.
He wants to say it.
Wants to tear the bandage off and drop the truth between us. The Vegas chapel. The marriage license. The missed deadline. The divorce hanging over our heads.
I can see the decision forming.
But I can’t let him.
Because my dad won’t just be angry.
He’ll go nuclear.
He’ll tear Jake apart. He’ll tear me apart. He’ll tear the team apart if it means regaining control.
And he will drag me home like I’m sixteen again.
I can’t let that happen.
I take a breath.
Then another.
And before Jake can open his mouth again, I step forward into the space between them, forcing myself to smile like this is all normal.
Like this is just a misunderstanding.
“Okay,” I say brightly. Too brightly. “Yes. Let’s sit down.”
My dad’s gaze snaps to me, suspicious.
I lead the way into the living room like I’m hosting a dinner party instead of trying to prevent my life from exploding.
“Dad,” I say, forcing steadiness into my voice, “sit. Please.”
He follows, stiff and furious, scanning the room as if he expects proof of sin to be hanging from the ceiling. Jake moves after him, quiet. I hover near the fireplace, my pulse still racing.
My father doesn’t sit. He stands in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, staring at me like he’s waiting for the real explanation to crawl out.
“Now,” he says. One word. Commanding. “Talk.”
Jake inhales as if about to speak.
But I beat him to it again.
“Dad,” I say quickly, “I should have told you sooner.”
My dad’s eyes narrow. “Told me what?”
I swallow hard.
And then I lie.
“We’ve been dating for a while,” I say.
The words feel like stepping off a cliff.
Jake’s head turns sharply toward me.
His expression is… strange.
Like he’s watching me do something reckless and trying to decide whether to catch me or let me fall.
My father freezes.
I keep talking before my courage evaporates.
“We kept it quiet,” I add quickly. “Because of… you know. We wanted it to be just about us for a while. So we didn’t tell anyone. No one knows.”
Jake’s eyes burn into me.
I refuse to look at him.
If I look at him, I’ll lose my nerve.
“And we love each other,” I say, forcing the words out evenly. “So much.”
My father’s gaze shifts between us.
“You love each other?” he repeats, like the concept itself is suspicious.
“Yes,” I say firmly, nodding as if this is simple. Normal. True.
I step closer until I’m standing beside Jake and slip my hand into his.
His fingers are warm. For half a second, they’re rigid in mine, like I’ve caught him off guard.
Then they close around my hand.
Firm. Protective.
The contact sends a spark racing up my arm that I am completely unprepared for.
I lace our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world and give him a small squeeze, silently asking him to follow my lead.
He does.
His thumb shifts over my knuckles. Grounding. Possessive.
“We didn’t want to wait,” I continue steadily, “so I moved in with Jake.”
Silence slams into the room after my declaration.
Even the house seems to hold its breath.
Jake’s gaze drills into me like he can’t believe I just escalated the lie.
My dad’s voice drops, quiet and dangerous. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been dating behind my back. You’re in love. And now you live together?”
“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin.
His eyes narrow even further. “So what you’re telling me is… this is serious?”
I nod quickly. “Yes, Dad.”
Jake clears his throat.
I feel him shift beside me, like he’s fighting the impulse to correct me and tell the truth.
Or to pull me behind him and take the hit himself.
My heart pounds.
Please don’t.
Please.
Jake doesn’t speak.
He just stands there, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.
My father turns his attention to Jake like a spotlight snapping into place.
“Is that true?” my dad asks.
His tone is deceptively calm now, which is a terrifying development. Calm means he’s collecting information. Calm means he’s deciding where to strike.
Jake pauses.
And in that pause I feel my entire world wobble.
If he says no, I’m dead.
If he says yes, we’re trapped.
Jake’s gaze flicks to me.
I finally look at him.
His eyes are intense, hard and warm at the same time, like he’s furious at the situation but not at me. Like he understands why I did it even if he hates the risk.
Then he looks back at my dad.
“Yes,” Jake says.
One word.
Solid.
My knees almost go weak with relief.
My father’s jaw tightens. He inhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying to scent the lie in the air.
Then he steps closer to Jake.
“Serious,” he says. Not quite a question. More a test. “This is serious between you two? You love my daughter?”
I feel Jake tense beside me.
This is it.
He doesn’t look at me when he answers.
“Yes,” he says evenly. “It’s serious. And I’m crazy about her.”
My heart twists in my chest.
He’s only saying it to sell the story. To protect us. To make it believable.
But the words land anyway.
And for one reckless second, I let myself wonder what it would feel like if they were true.
My father studies Jake’s face for a long moment, then finally shifts his gaze to me.
“And you,” he says. “This is what you want?”
My throat tightens.
I nod. “Yes.”
My dad’s expression changes again. The anger doesn’t vanish, but it recedes, curling back like a wave pulling away from the shore.
He exhales slowly.
His shoulders drop a fraction.
And that tiny movement feels like surviving a car crash.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, quieter now. Still sharp. Just less explosive.
I shrug, trying to make it seem harmless. “Because we knew you wouldn’t like it.”
His eyes flash. “Wouldn’t like it? Of course I don’t fucking like it. It’s my daughter and my team’s captain. But I suppose I’ll have to live with it, won’t I?”
He paces once, then stops in front of the window, staring out like he’s forcing himself to think instead of react.
“This,” he says at last, “is not ideal.”
I almost laugh.
Not ideal.
Jake’s voice cuts in, low and steady. “I understand.”
My dad studies him again and steps even closer to Jake.
The air in the room sharpens.
This is the part I’m most afraid of.
The part where my father decides to intimidate.
He stops within arm’s reach of Jake, towering, stare cold and precise.
“If you hurt her,” my dad says, voice low and deadly, “you will regret it.”
Jake doesn’t move.
He doesn’t blink.
He just meets my father’s stare like a man who’s taken checks from bigger guys than this and stayed upright.
“I won’t,” Jake says.
My father’s mouth curls slightly. Not a smile. A warning.
“If you are just toying with her,” he continues, “if this is some kind of game, if you are using her because you can…”
My dad’s eyes narrow, taking Jake apart.
“You will pay for that.”
My stomach twists.
I hate this.
I step forward, voice sharp. “Dad.”
He doesn’t look at me, but Jake does.
His eyes soften just a fraction, like he’s telling me silently, I’ve got it.
My dad’s gaze stays on Jake. “Do you understand me, Morrison?”
Jake’s voice is controlled. “Yes, Coach.”
My dad nods once, as if he’s decided to accept this new version of reality.
Then he picks up his coat, straightening it even though it doesn’t need straightening.
He pauses at the doorway, turns back, and points at Jake. “I’m watching you,” he says.
Then he’s gone.
The door closes behind him, and the silence that follows is so loud it feels like the whole house is ringing.