Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Aaron’s POV

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you have to think about that, Aaron. And you’re not even listening to ine.” My father’s voice was tight with exasperation.

I broke away from staring at the antique hunting prints that covered the wall, letting out a weary sigh, and finally turned my full attention back to him.

My father fixed me with a pointed look, the one that said, ‘I am one repeating myself.

Though I faced him, every attempt to focus on his words failed; my mind constantly fractured, replaying the devastating image of a broken Jessica.

“Dad,” I called, my voice firm, cutting through the thick, inherited silence of the room.

“I’m pursuing my basketball career and nothing is going to stop that. I truly don’t care about Grandpa’s will, and I certainly don’t care about his weird fetish to have a single, synchronous family career. What is this, a cult or something?”

My father’s jaw hardened, his eyes narrowing with a familiar, cold disapproval–the automatic response whenever I dared to question the infallible Tyrone family decree.

“Why are you so stubborn, Aaron? Do you know what you’re throwing away? The Tyrone fortune! Come on, it isn’t that hard. I gave up my dream to become an architect so I could be with your mother. Being a hockey player…”

I stood up from the heavy armchair, signaling the end of the conversation. I was bored and utterly exhausted by this endless loop.

“That was your choice, Dad,” I interrupted, stepping toward the door. “You don’t expect me to make the same sacrifice, do you? You made that choice to marry Mom, or maybe–and let’s be honest–you had your eye on the Tyrone fortunes all along.”

“Aaron!” he warned, his voice rising in alarm.

I ran my fingers through my hair, letting out a frustrated breath. I think I’m done having this conversation. You can Grandpa that your attempt to convince me failed. Have a nice day.”

I turned my back, grabbing the brass doorknob.

tell

“Aaron, at least give it a thought! You can’t throw away your part of the inheritance because of your-!” The heavy oak door shut behind me with a decisive thud, blocking his voice and the stifling atmosphere of that room.

Outside, I took a deep, steadying breath before heading down the hallway. I didn’t stop until I reached the bar at the top floor of the mansion.

I desperately needed something to burn away the mental clutter–the argument with Dad, the haunting image of Jess’s desolate eyes.

I grabbed a bottle of quality scotch whiskey from the sleek glass cabinet and slid onto a leather stool.

I poured the amber liquid into a glass, didn’t bother with ice, and took the shot in one deliberate gulp. It burned my throat, harsh and cleansing, but the sting was nothing compared to the gnawing heat in my chest.

When were they going to get it? I’d chosen my path–basketball and as long as I built my own money and fame, what the hell did it matter to the Tyrone legacy?

I shouldn’t even be a Tyrone; I could’ve been a Charles, like my dad’s original name. But no, he and some of my aunts‘ husbands had literally changed their identities, ditched their dreams, all to marry into the family and uphold this bizarre tradition.

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Chapter 20

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It already infuriated me that they were trying to convince me to give up the sport I lived for–basketball–all because of Some weird family… aesthetic? A fetish? I still couldn’t define the thrill they got from having every generation belong to the same career path.

This battle had been ongoing since I was sixteen. Ever since I male my decision, Grandpa had made it his life’s mission to make me change my mind.

He’d cut my allowance, stopped paying my fees, a clear punishment designed to starve me back into line. But none of it fazed me. I worked multiple, miserable jobs in high school, earning pennies despite living in the Tyrone mansion.

I endured two years of that genuine financial struggle, and I didn’t care, because I knew what I wanted. I wasn’t a pushover like Dad, my cousins, or my uncles–I had the courage to fight for my own life.

When college hit, and Grandpa saw I wasn’t budging, he was forced to give up–just a fraction.

He threatened to make me change my name to Charles, strip the Tyrone identity from me entirely. I was ready to do it; the name meant nothing if it came with chains. But he backed off.

Deep down, he knew the truth: I was going to be a star, and my “act of rebellion” would ultimately bring a new, unique wave of fame and glory back to the family name. So, he let me keep the name and footed the college bills.

The money came with a price, though–he never stopped the nagging attempts to reel me in.

If they really wanted me to change my mind, I had two non–negotiable conditions: first, all the Tyrone properties and wealth would be willed to me and only me (which would never happen), and second, they needed to give me a strong, logical reason other than trying to preserve a “tradition.” Then, and only then, would I even consider it.

My phone buzzed on the bar top, the sound a persistent, irritating vibration against the mahogany wood.

Joe. The name of one of my players at Arcadia College flashed on the screen. I didn’t want to pick up, but the kid only called for important stuff.

I reluctantly swiped to answer, placing the call on speaker without lifting the phone to my ear.

“Coach Aaron.” His panicked, boyish voice cut through the background noise.

“William’s in the hospital. He had a bad sprain in his ankle and won’t be out until the next month.”

My chest contracted immediately, concern for my player overriding the scotch burn.

“What? How?”

“He fell down the stairs at home, coach.”

Fuck! I clutched my head, rubbing my temples roughly.

“How’s he doing? Besides the ankle, anything else?”

“No, Coach. He’s awake now, complained of body pain, but he’s fine. Also, he asked me to apologise on his behalf as he won’t make next week’s game against Savannah College.”

I sighed, leaning back on the stool. William was one of my best, the highest scorer, a key piece. It was awful that this happened to him, but his health was the priority.

“No need to apologize. His health is what matters. I’ll go see him as soon as I’m back in Florida tomorrow. As for the game? I’ve got the rest of you on that roster for a reason. I trust your capabilities. Just focus, practice hard, and play smart.”

There was a moment of silence, and then a rush of grateful words from him.

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Chapter 20

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“Really, Coach? Thank you for your kind words and encouragement. I’ll try my absolute best to do well in the game.”

A ghost of a smile curled my lips. Without another word, I hung p. A loud, defeated sigh escaped my chest.

I hadn’t lost a game since I started coaching. William’s presence his skill, was key. Joe is good, and my players are generally talented, but in every aspect of life, there’s always an outstanding person.

I couldn’t afford to lose a game; it would ruin my credentials and honestly, my pride. I’d have to put in triple the effort with the other players to make up the difference.

I was rubbing my forehead with my fingers, trying to map out a new strategy, when a familiar weight settled against my

back.

Someone’s arms wrapped around my torso, their face pressed lightly against my spine.

A strong, familiar scent of roses, the one I used to be so completely obsessed with, instantly filled my nostrils.

I glanced down at her manicured fingers clutching my chest, the diamond ring glinting under the bar lights.

“Fiona,” I grumbled.

“Aaron,” she purred softly against my back.