Page 35 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“I don’t like where this is heading,” I groaned.

She widened her eyes, almost as if she agreed. “He had a lot to say about what he wants for your future,” she said matter-of-factly.

I shoveled a forkful of biscuits and gravy into my mouth. If I hurried and ate, then we could cut this short. “Like what?” I asked, swallowing even though I’d lost my appetite.

The lines around her eyes softened, and she set her fork down. Its clink against the plate rattled through me as the silence stretched out. Finally, she said, “Zeke, he only wants the best for you.”

“It’s whathethinks is best,” I pointed out. “Not what I want.”

“He mentioned your reluctance to law school.”

“More like my refusal,” I said. Unable to eat another bite, I pushed my food around the plate as her words sank in. “I’m not following in his footsteps.”

I waited for her to tell me that this wasn’t a joke, that myfuture was on the line, that I wouldn’t know how to do anything else. However, she didn’t throw his words back at me. “You can do whatever you want,” she said instead. “Do something for yourself.”

“Wait, what?” I shook my head, unsure if I heard her correctly. We’d never really talked about college before. That was something my father had decided on without her. “I can?”

“I’ve spent seventeen years letting your father make all the decisions, and I’ll be damned if it’ll happen anymore.” She nodded reassuringly. “I told him you’re smart and capable of making your own choices.”

“Mom…” The sudden urge to cry burned my throat, and I gripped the chair seat.

“He threatened not to pay for school, and that’s okay. I’ll find a way to pay for whatever it is you want.” She leaned forward and locked eyes with me. “Maybe focus on improving your grades next year for scholarships, just to be safe.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I promised, nodding profusely. “I’ll be perfect—”

“You don’t have to be perfect.” She held my gaze with unwavering warmth. “You just have to be you.”

I wanted to jump up and hug her. Run around the apartment and scream. Call my father and tell him his dream was no longer my fate. But all I could do was slowly release my grip on the chair, the weight of a wrench still heavy in my palm.

Chapter 15

Doctor Whoplayed on the bachelorette pad’s TV. The Doctor and his companion Amy had just traveled from 1890, where they’d met Vincent van Gogh. They brought the painter back to the future to see how much his life mattered. It was one of the top episodes on the Sawyer-and-Zeke list, and the ending made me cry.

Usually.

I was so annoyed at Sawyer. It was one of her favorites, yet she was too preoccupied with texting Kennedy to even pay attention. At least I was capable of ignoring my DMs. It had been my turn to ask Mason a question, and I felt bold enough to ask his idea of a perfect first date. Despite the fact that my palms were sweating after I pressed send, I’d set my phone to the side. Because that’s whatwedid when the Doctor was saving the universe.

The credits began to roll, and I glanced over at her. Both the bowling shirt and baggy jeans she’d found thrifting madeher look tiny. But her attitude was enormous as her thumbs continued to tap out messages like I wasn’t here. She’d been giving me the cold shoulder ever since I came over. I knew she was still ticked about the Instagram post. She hadn’t said much to me other than demanding an emergency QSA meeting tonight to plan the next speakeasy. I’d agreed even though I’d already made up my mind about what we were going to do.

I reached for the remote and stopped our episode queue. A hush flooded the basement as she ignored my lingering glare.Whatever,I groused internally while unlocking my own phone. Instagram was still open to the message thread with Mason, and my heart soared when I saw that he’d replied. Then it plummeted as I read his messages.

bedmas_22

Idk the perfect first date. Never really been on one.

bedmas_22

What’s your god tier band?

He’d completely ignored my hint, instead of playing along like I’d hoped. I should have just asked him out. But no, I’d been too much of a chickenshit. I sent back that I loved Bleachers, then threw my phone down on the sofa.First Sawyer and now him?I huffed in annoyance and waited for her to notice me.

A full minute passed, and I couldn’t take the deliberate silence anymore. My annoyance bubbled over. “So,” I began loudly, “is Kennedy on her way yet?”

“She just finished summer cheer practice,” Sawyer said without looking up.

“And Cohen isn’t coming?” I pressed, hoping she’d thaw out.

“Nope.”

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