Page 241 of Power Play

“Yes, you are.”

My voice broke.

“He died.”

My mother flinched.

“He died, and I loved him, and I miss him every fucking day, but Ryan was right.” My father’s face hardened at Ryan’s name, and I no longer cared. “I am not required to live Charles’s life for him. I’m not required to be perfect because he isn’t here, and I will not spend the rest of my life apologizing for surviving him.”

Tears spilled over my cheeks. My father looked stunned, and my mother started crying.

Seeing her break nearly broke me too.

I picked up my purse. “I love you. I love you both so much.”

Neither spoke.

“You either welcome Ryan, or you won’t see me at Thanksgiving.”

My father’s expression went cold. “You’re issuing ultimatums now?”

“I’m setting a boundary.”

The word felt foreign in my mouth, powerful and terrifying at once.

My mother stared at me. “When did you start talking like this?”

I almost smiled. “Recently.”

I turned toward the door.

“Charmagne.”

My father’s quieter voice stopped me.

“You walk away from this dinner, you are making a choice.”

I looked back at him. “Yes, Daddy. I came to this dinner with my choice already made.”

My hand tightened around the door handle.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Then I left.

I made it through the private dining room without looking back. I passed the hostess and pushed through the front doors before the composure I had held together all night began to fracture.

By the time I crossed the parking lot and got into my car, my hands were shaking so badly that I fumbled the keys before managing to lock the doors behind me.

The second I was alone, everything I had forced down at dinner came rushing up at once.

My breath caught high inside my chest and refused to settle. I bent over the steering wheel, trying to pull in enough air to calm myself, but every breath came too shallow and fast. My fingers shook so violently that when I reached for my phone, I dropped it onto the passenger seat.

Ryan was the first person I wanted.

That realization collided with the knowledge that he was playing. I couldn’t call him.

The panic tightened as I grabbed the phone and stared at the screen through blurred vision, trying to convince myself I could hold everything together until his game ended.