During the brief pause that settles between us, I notice several things. Her lips tighten, her eyes narrow as if she’s embarrassed or angry or both, and her hands ball into fists.
“No.” Her chin jerks, eyes flashing. “What I say on the show isnotbecause you were a total jerk to me that night, even though you were.”
“Whoa.” Both my hands go up like she pulled a gun. “I said I’m sorry.”
“You should be sorry.” Her pretty eyes flash, anddamn. Melody Dunne is hot. “You could be great. You’re the Shaquille O’Neal of NFL players. You should be winning the MVP trophy, but you’re not. You should be training harder, but you’re not.Whynot? Why don’t you want it?”
Her questions, her tone, the animation she adopts whilst simultaneously complimenting me and telling me off have my eyebrows all the way to my scalp.
None of this is what I expected her to say, and I’m completely thrown off-balance. “What makes you think I don’t want it?”
“I watch you every week.” She takes a step forward, and while her head only comes up to my chest, she’s mighty. “You have so much potential. It’s infuriating.”
“I’m playing my best,” I argue, but it feels weak in the face of her determination. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you’re Jack Bradford’s son.”
“I’m not my dad. He was a legend.” My voice rises, and I can’t believe I said that out loud just now.
I’ve never said that to anyone, and I feel like I fucking showed my hand.
“You could be a legend.” Her tone matches mine.
She’s not backing down, and I’m both flattered and furious. No one has ever talked to me this way. I’ve always been taken for granted as a star player. No one even questions it.
“How do you know all this?” I’m on the defensive, which I did not expect when I came here to confront her about how she’s making my life a living hell. “What’s your interest in football anyway?”
Her lips twist, and she crosses her arms. “My dad’s Scout Dunne.”
Now it’s my turn to have a jaw drop. “TheScout Dunn? Velcro fingers?” I take a pause, looking to the side and putting my hands on my hips. “He was incredible. He never missed a pass. Not even the stinkers.”
“No, he didn’t,” she repeats.
“But… he walked away.”
Her blue eyes hold mine, unrelenting. “He wanted to be an actor. Then stuff happened, and he came home and found me.”
I understand priorities changing. My uncle Hendrix alsodiscovered he had a baby girl, but it didn’t stop him from playing.
“He walked away,” I say flatly.
“He wanted to be a dad,” she counters. “Tell me, Knox Bradford, what doyouwant?”
I straighten from where I’m standing in the doorway. I can’t tell if she cares or if she’s just busting my balls.
The only people who talk to me this way are Dad and Edward, although Edward only gives you the brutally honest feedback when you ask for it.
I’ve learned to give myself a few weeks of mental preparation before asking what he thinks. If I even ask him at all.
She’s still standing in front of me waiting for my answer. I have one, but I’m not ready to say it to this force of nature who put me on blast. The last thing I dare to show is weakness.
So I deflect.
“I want your number.”
It’s eighty degrees, yet the air around us freezes. Melody doesn’t speak. I think I might be able to knock her over with a feather, and a grin curls my lips.Score one for K-Brad.
“My cell number?” Her voice rises in disbelief. “Why?”