“Quentin,” Trey said in a warning tone.
He looked at Trey, and said, “Oh shit, right. Sorry, man.”
His apology for swearing made me giggle.
“And why should my daughter care about Trey or his endorsement?” Dad questioned Quentin pretty abruptly. He was way past formalities, now.
Any tiny bit of patience that he had was clearly gone.
“Wes, your kid should care about getting her own endorsements. Plus, you mentioned the Olympics?” Quentin said, eyebrows raised. “Crapping out on a team at this stage in her career isn’t going to impress the Olympic coaches. I can tell you that much.”
“Fuck,” Dad said as he blew out a breath of defeat.
He let his gaze drift over to me.
The disappointment I saw in his eyes made my stomach hurt.
Crap.
I hated letting him down.
This time—I’d have to finally grow up, and dig myself out of my own mess.