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He took a seat at the kitchen island and opened up his phone. Jamie got a washcloth good and soapy. It was good to be doing something with her hands.

“Oh, wow,” Dexter said suddenly.

“What?” Jamie asked.

“Manchester City women just fired one of their assistant coaches,” he said. “Do you remember Brett Cooke?”

Jamie froze. She remembered Brett very well. He was the one who had driven her to leave City in the first place. Another thing Lila had suggested was being truthful with Dexter about what happened there. Jamie had outright refused. She knew it was something her father could never understand. But perhaps this was a sign. The universe’s way of opening the door for that conversation.

“Yeah, I remember him,” she said, clearing her throat. “Did they say why he was sacked?”

“Apparently, several of the athletes complained about sexual harassment.”

If Jamie was still a person who believed in coincidences, she might have dismissed it. As it was, she knew that nothing was coincidental. Not even when she first met Tessa.

She turned off the water and faced her father. “Oh?”

“Yeah, it was nearly half the squad,” he said. He looked up and met her gaze, eyebrows raised. “Is that. . . did he do that to you too?”

Fear gripped at her heart, but she swallowed it down. “Yes, Dad. He did. He followed me home and tried to kiss me.”

“Jesus. Did you report him to the club?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I left the club.”

He frowned. “That’s why you left?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He let his phone fall onto the counter and put his head in his hands. “Fucking hell, Jamie.”

Given that his face was hidden, she couldn’t tell whether it was sympathy or exasperation. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to say more and perhaps give her a hint one way or the other. When he looked at her again, she knew it was the latter.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded. “Clearly, you had other women on your side. They would have believed you all, and you could have stayed at a better club.”

Jamie blinked, but shock yielded quickly to rage. “What?”

“You threw away your contract over that? An issue that could have been resolved?”

She swallowed hard, seething. “Is that all that matters to you?”

His brow furrowed. “What are you getting at?”

“Never mind. I know the answer. Football has always been all that matters to you. Never mind that I might have been scared or hurt. Never mind that I had no idea it was happening to anyone else because in case you haven’t noticed, these things are nearly impossible to talk about.”

“Football is what has given this family everything. I wouldn’t be so harsh about prioritizing it. What else would you have me do?”

“I dunno, maybe just once, act like my father instead of my manager.”

Jamie could hardly believe what she was saying, but once she started, the words wouldn’t stop. Anger had given her the courage to speak up. She had tried to be vulnerable and honest with him, and he had made it—like everything else—about her footballing career. And she was disgusted by his frigid heart.

He glowered at her. “I am your father, Jamie. I manage your career because I care about you.”

“You care about my career because I am your daughter and a reflection on you. Not because of any affection.”

He got to his feet. “Don’t talk as if you know how I feel!”

“I know howIfeel!” she shot back. “And I have never felt affection from you. No comfort, no kindness. Only harsh, lashing words, and always,alwaysabout football!”