Straight To You

twenty-eight

"So, you and Jack Crawford, huh?" Dad asks later that day as we toss a football back and forth in the yard. There's a bright gleam in his blue eyes as he awaits my answer, the hint of a smile appearing on his lips. I had expected this topic to come up eventually, so my father's question merely causes a smile to creep onto my lips, too.

"I guess so," I admit with a shrug, trying my best not to grin too widely. "I really like him, Dad," I find myself saying without meaning to. And even though I hadn't intended on revealing as much, that doesn't change the fact that my words are true. I don't know how I ended up falling for Jack, but I don't regret that I did. He's sweet, considerate, thoughtful, and incredibly cute. But more than that, he's exactly the kind of person I need in my life after everything I've had to go through. He's always there for me to lean on, and I trust him more than I've ever trusted another.

Plus, after all the games Jack and I have played with each other, things between us are never boring.

"Well, I'm glad," Dad teases with a warm smile, tossing the ball my way. "I really like him, too. Crawford's a good guy. One hell of a football player." Dad shakes his head with a slight smirk as he catches my toss effortlessly, mumbling, "I just thought you hated him."

I raise an eyebrow at my father's assumption, taken off guard to the point where I nearly miss the throw he sends me. I never realized my father was so observant. How he picked up on my dislike of Jack earlier on, I have no clue. Either my dad is smarter than I took him for, or I was just really obvious of my hatred.

But I guess the truth would be that I never really hated Jack, though I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to. The night of the party, I told him everything about me. My deepest, darkest secrets, out in the air for Jack to take hold of and do whatever he pleased with. It killed me to know that there was someone out there who knew about my most vulnerable parts, and could therefore use them against me. Now, however, I'm kind of glad that I told Jack the truth about my mom and my past. I hadn't known at the time, but talking to someone about it was what I really needed. Because now that I don't have to keep the truth a secret, it feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. What seemed like a huge mistake at the time might have been one of the best things I've ever done for myself.

"I thought I hated him, too," I admit to my dad softly. With a smirk, I add, "I guess I was fronting."

Dad laughs at my statement, shaking his head as his gaze fixates on me from across the yard. "You're not going to believe me when I say this, but I've always known that boy had a soft spot for you."

This is news to me. I raise my eyebrows skeptically as I ask, "Really, now? How so?"

"I could see the way he would look at you, kiddo. You don't have to believe it, but a guy can always tell when another guy is whipped. Plus"—Dad chuckles to himself, sending the ball spiraling toward me—"I heard him talking to Chris about you the day you had to come to the field to grab the spare house key."