Page 133 of The Best Shot

Her eyes narrowed. “What does that have to do with me?”

My eyes watered, and though the words felt too ugly to say out loud, I knew I had to.

For every phone call I answered only to be told how I’d failed someone else, every apology dragged out of me to restore a peace I hadn’t broken, every time she had looked directly at my hurt and found a way to make it inconvenient.

I had to.

“I realized that if you forgot me, I’d feel relieved.”

It hung between us.

Cruel.

True.

Her hand tightened on her purse strap. Genuine hurt crossed her face.

“I know, Mama. I know how it sounds.”

“How can you say that to me?”

“You have made me feel like an afterthought my entire life.” My voice shook, but I didn’t lower it. “And I keep trying to earn my way out of that. I keep thinking if I explain myself better or make myself easier to love, eventually you’ll choose me too. But you don’t.” I swallowed. “And I’m done begging.”

She stared at me. “Yasmine.”

Waiting.

For the apology.

For me to soften.

For the woman who would come to her senses and carry both sides of the hurt home.

“I leave for Antarctica in three weeks and I’ll be gone for six months. I’m not calling when I get there.” My throat closed around it, but I kept going. “And I’m not calling when I come back.”

Her chin lifted, but her eyes looked bright. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

Silence.

Real silence.

My eyes burned, but a warm hand closed over mine. I didn’t look to see whose.

“Now, excuse me. I’m having a good time with my friends, and I’d like to get back to it.”

She let out a short laugh. “Fine.”

But she didn’t move. Her gaze moved across the table, across my friends, then back to me.

I turned away.

“Madam.” Ferdinand’s voice came from behind me.

Great. I’d finally gotten us banned.

“Madam, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”