Page 67 of The Unfinished Line

Heedless of the damp grass, Dillon flopped onto her back, staring at the overcast sky. Seren joined her, shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Talk to me, Dilly,” said Seren.

And then she waited. Waited like she always did.

Waited until Dillon told her everything.

From Santa Monica to San Francisco.Sand Seekersto Sam.

Seren listened patiently, never cutting in, and when Dillon had finished, she remained quiet, taking time to think.

“Sam has some fair points,” she said at length, though her tone was devoid of judgment. “You have developed a pattern of running away, but not for the reasons she believes.”

Dillon said nothing, watching as a blue tit flitted along the branches above them, its yellow belly glittering with dewdrops.

Rolling on her side, Seren propped herself onto an elbow to look at her sister through the curtain of meadow grass.

“You’re different than most people, Dillon, but I don’t think you realize it. Very few people have your kind of ambition. Your intense focus and tenacity. And because of that, I think you’re drawn to women with the same qualities. You—intentional or not—choose extraordinary becauseyouare extraordinary. It’s only natural to be attracted to someone with a like mind—with like dreams.”

“It’s not the ambition that worries me.”

“Of course not. It’s what you’re most attracted to. But it’s what pushes these women to success. It’s the reason they stand out in their careers.Hufen yn codi, right?”

One of their dad’s favorite sayings:Cream rises.

It was always strange to hear Seren speak Welsh. She spoke so little of the language. It had never been of interest to her.

“So what are you getting at? I need to change my type?”

Seren laughed. “You couldn’t change that if you wanted to. And for the record,” she nudged her shin with the toe of her riding boot, “I never want you to change anything about you. You’re exactly who you should be.”

“Whoever that is,” Dillon muttered, still gazing at the sky.

Seren was quiet a moment, contemplative, before continuing. “I know you’re afraid what happened after Dad isgoing to happen again. You were really young and vulnerable, and the press exploited that—”

“It has nothing to do with that—!”

“It haseverythingto do with that and we both know it. It’s why you panicked with the attention you were getting while you were with Kelsey, and it’s why you’re back home now.” Rolling into a sitting position, she plucked the blossom off a creeping thistle and rolled it between her fingers. “It doesn’t mean it’s going to be like that again, Dillon. The year after Dad died was a tsunami of events that led to the perfect storm. You were already getting so much media because of the Olympics, and then, what Henrik said after Dad—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Seren!”

“Wearegoing to talk about it! We’ve never talked about it, but we’re going to talk about it now!”

Dillon turned her face away. Never had Seren pushed on her. Never had she forced her to address all the years of unspoken hurts lying dormant between them. But there was no escaping this conversation short of getting up and walking away.

The soft fingertips of Seren’s lambskin gloves gently touched her cheek, turning her head back toward her. “I know you still tell everyone he died because he was sick. And I get it. I don’t like to think about it either. But I also know, because of what you went through after he killed himself, that you’re afraid it’s—”

“What would you know of it, Seren?!” Dillon shoved her hand aside, leaping to her feet. She wanted to run. To be anywhere but here. “You aren’t the reason he’s dead! No one ever pointed the finger at you!”

Seren was up half a beat behind her, grabbing a hold of the collar of her jacket, staring down at her with the same furious intensity.

“Theonlyreason Dad is dead is becauseDadmade a horrible decision to take his life.No oneelse made that decision forhim, Dillon.No one. Not you. Not me. Not Mam. Not even that bastard, Henrik. That was Dad and Dad alone. And don’t you ever fucking forget it!”

Dillon tried to pull away, but couldn’t shake Seren’s grip. It was the first time she’d ever heard her sister swear. The first time she’d ever raised her voice to her.

“That’s easy for you to say.” Dillon gave one last weak attempt to break free of her grasp, but it was already too late. She could hear the tears trembling in her voice. Feel them streaming down her cheeks. And there was nothing she could do about it. There was no place she could run this time to make them go away. No time to beat. No record to break. No medal to chase. And when Seren reached forward to take her in her arms, she wanted to cling to her, to let her sister burden the weight of her despair, but all she could do was stand there, her arms hanging at her sides, and cry.

Seren held her anyhow. Held her as her body wracked with the unfamiliar release. Held her through her choking sobs until, at last, she could finally breathe.

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