Page 110 of Power of the Mind

But Diem didn’t drive. At first, I thought he was working through the messy analogy I’d word-vomited, but the look in his eyes said not. The oceans darkened with an oncoming storm. It took him a second to voice his thoughts. When he did, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“What was the bet?”

“Bet?”

“On the phone with Memphis. You talked about a bet.”

“Oh.” I waved it off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“It does matter. It had to do with me. What was the fucking bet?”

I had a feeling we wouldn’t be going anywhere until I came clean. “I thought I could convince you to ask me out on a proper date before the end of the month, but… I lost. It’s not in the cards. I see that now.”

Diem’s chest heaved with unstable breathing. The crease in his brow deepened. Quieter, he said, “Tallus—”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not that I… I tried to explain why.”

“I know. You did…” I turned to face him. “But if you want my opinion, which I’m sure you don’t, I think your reasoning is bullshit.”

His throat bobbed. “Tallus—”

I continued before Diem could fly off the handle and tell me I was wrong. “I get it, D. I do. You were dealt a rotten hand in life. I can’t imagine what it was like growing up in your house, and I know what you told me the other day barely scratches the surface of what you went through. I truly can’t imagine.

“I won’t compare our childhoods. It’s impossible. They weren’t remotely the same. Besides, it’s not about who suffered more trauma or who walked away with more scars. In fact, it’s not about the past at all.”

He wouldn’t look at me, but I was getting used to that. I didn’t care. Maybe he needed to hear some hard truths. “It’s about the present, Diem. It’s about right here and now. You and me. Not your dad. Not your history. It’s about today. It’s about choosing to be happy or choosing to be miserable.”

He huffed. “You think I want to be like this?”

“Sometimes. I think you’re comfortable alone. It’s easier to be miserable. When everyone treats you like the bad guy, it affirms what your father put in your head all those years ago. Maybe you go looking for that affirmation to prove him right.”

“You’re not my fucking therapist.”

“No. I’m not. What does he say?”

Silence. Diem’s cheeks turned hot with either anger or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure which.

I gave him a minute. His jaw remained tight, his body rigid. “At some point, you have to start believing you deserve better and stop letting the bullies from your past control your future. When I disowned my father at fourteen—that is what happened, not the other way around, and I will die on that hill—I marched away from his bullshit abuse, determined to be the most fabulous version of myself there was. His words, insults, and degrading views did not define me.Idefined who I wanted to be.”

I stabbed a finger against my chest. “Idecided where life would take me, and I no longer allow his negativity to bring me down. He isn’t worth it. So I get my brows waxed, and I enjoy a mani-pedi from time to time, and I flaunt my clothes, sway my hips, and hold my chin high because I know who I am, and I’m proud. His opinion no longer matters. He has no morepower over me because I refuse to give him any. Am I perfect?” I laughed. “Hell fucking no, but I’m authentic, Diem. When I want something, I fight for it. I don’t deprive myself or second-guess myself. I don’t listen to my dad’s voice inside my head and wonder if I’m the embarrassment he always claimed. And again, I know we walked different paths in life, and your battle is not the same as mine, but there are parallels.”

Diem hadn’t moved his gaze from the windshield. I took a chance and reached out, brushing my knuckles over his rigid jaw. “You only live once, sweetheart, and no one is going to serve you happiness on a silver platter. Trust me.”

“I’m not a good person,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

He growled under his breath but didn’t answer. His tension ran dry, and his scowl melted away. Diem continued to stare out the window, but he was no longer beside me in the Jeep. He was far, far away.

I’d said enough. Maybe I’d said too much. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t make Diem come around if he didn’t want to, and even if I had the power of mind control or manipulation that Kitty was so sure I had, I didn’t want to force his hand.

He needed to come to a decision on his own.

After a prolonged silence, I gently rubbed Diem’s oversized noggin. “Drive, big guy, we’ve got work to do.”

26

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