“Good. Now tell me all about this contest! How can I help?”
The conversation turns to lighter things, and I can almost forget about the uncertainty nagging me.
***
Shayne
I study Xia over the rim of my mug as we finish up breakfast. The melancholy mode that clings to her persistently shows in her eyes for a moment before she forces a smile. The curtain lowers, and I’m left with the false store front she’s pitching to everyone else. A twinge of irritation runs through me.
“Don’t do that. Hide from me.”
She blinks rapidly, and her eyes turn glassy.
“It’s his loss, Xi. One day he’s going to look back on this and realize he missed out. The regret will be his.”
“I get that. I do. Logically the ball is in his court. But emotionally it feels so wrong to be closing in on my dream and have him be absent. I knew he might be upset with me over taking a leap of faith. But I didn’t expect him to shun me.” Her voice shakes.
Anger pools in my belly hot and stifling. The urge to make her father feel a fraction of what she’s experiencing is strong. I’m not used to playing the politically correct role. Another drawback to the civilian lifestyle.
“You still have the rest of your family firmly in your corner. Their support is huge.”
“It is.”
I spent a lifetime working to please my old man. I’ll be damned if I allow her to make the same mistake. “I know it hurts, but the line you’re drawing is an important one for both of you. You have to discern how much you can bend before you break, or you’ll end up with a lifetime worth of regret that will haunt you.”
“Shayne?” she whispers.
I glance away, unable to look at her. What would she say if she knew I was a once a rampant racist?
“My father wasn’t a nice man, and not too long ago I spent all of my time and energy emulating him, losing myself, becoming an unrecognizable asshole. I was a vapid excuse for a human being, so used to following orders, I couldn’t think for myself.”
She flinches. “Shayne, don’t—”
“No. it’s not a defendable offense, Trust me.” I ball my fists. The truth is on the tip of my tongue, burning a hole through the pink muscle. “That’s why I can’t sit here and watch you doubt yourself or your decisions. It’s a slippery slope living under someone else’s standards.”
“What did he do to you?” she whispers.
“Turned me into a fucking monster.”
She gasps. “Jesus. What—”
“Don’t,” I say sharper than I intended.
She jerks back.
“Don’t ask me that unless you’re prepared to hear the answer.”
She licks her lips. “After the contest.”
“Yes, we’ll talk then.” Her lower lip trembles. Moving closer, I cup the back of her neck. “Enough of that. You have to be off to work soon, and I can’t let you leave like this.”
She sniffs. “You’re right. I don’t want to ruin your day with your uncles either.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“I wish I could be there w
ith you to meet them.”