Page 3 of Catalyst

“We’re okay.” I smiled back.

My mom seemed satisfied with my answer, but a strange sadness lingered in her expression. I glanced over at Dad to see his gaze fixed on the table. He’d been avoiding looking at me since I refused to get an abortion, but right now, it seemed worse than ever.

“Good!” Mom’s tone was a little too bright for my comfort. “I made your favorite: a veggie omelet, lots of cheese and spinach, and some rye toast.”

Normally, the thought alone would be enough to make me drool, but the unspoken tension killed my appetite. My gaze stayed fixed on my dad as I inched toward my usual spot at the table. Mom sat across from me and gave a wide gesture, inviting me to eat. Reluctantly, I dug my fork into the eggs. Zucchini, spinach, and tomatoes spilled onto the plate.

“How is it?” Mom asked as I brought the fork to my lips.

It tasted the same as always—cheesy and savory, with fluffy eggs. Most mornings, I had to remind myself to slow down and enjoy it, but right now, I couldn’t even force a second bite.

“It’s good… thank you,” I managed, my gaze flickering toward my dad.

For the first time in weeks, he was looking at me. His silver eyes were trained on my face. A little poking in his thoughts revealed that he was desperately trying to separate his precious baby girl from the woman I’d become. Not only that, but the action was hurting him, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. His love for me was still there, but it was unfortunately tangled with his disappointment in my choices and his fears for my future.

I shot him a smile as I took a drink of my juice, and once again, he had to look away.

“Happy Birthday, Calista.” Dad’s voice was deep and commanding, filling the space like thunder before a storm.

I did my best to act like everything was okay as I dug into my breakfast with renewed, albeit false, vigor.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

I shot him an oblivious grin before scooping my omelet onto my toast. Both my parents stared at me like I was a wild animal as the crust of the toast cracked under my teeth.

“What?” I asked around a full mouth.

My mom looked at my dad with tight-lipped dissatisfaction. She nudged my dad with her elbow. He grabbed his coffee and took a long sip, then finally spoke.

“Did Jack talk to you about Trenton Taylor?”

“Yeah… but I’m not interested.” I kept my eyes glued to my breakfast, hoping that by some miracle I could just disappear.

“It’d look good for the family.”

I shrugged. This conversation was quickly taking a turn for the worse, but I had to stand my ground. I wasn’t about to let them marry me off just to further their social status.

My mom cleared her throat.

“Callie, please understand… The path you’re on isn’t an easy one. It takes a village to raise a child.”

My stomach twisted at the start of this all-too-familiar lecture. I was too far along for an abortion, so now they wanted to make me someone else’s problem.

“I have a village. I have you guys and Rori… plus, I thought we were going to look into a nanny so that I could finish college.” My voice broke a little as I realized just how spoiled I sounded.

“Yes… But, if we’re doing that foryou,it’s only right that you do something forus,” Dad explained slowly.

“And I am. I’m going to take over public relations once I’m out of school,” I reminded him, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. I had absolutely no interest in taking on that role. If it wasn’t for them, I would have tried my hand at being a chef. But I wanted to help my family in the only way they’d let me.

“And that’s not enough, Calista.” Dad’s voice took on an uncharacteristic edge, one I wasn’t used to hearing from him. “The media doesn’t care about the future; they care about the now. Andright now, the youngest Voltaris is pregnant with a terrorist’s kid.”

“Sulien isn’t a terrorist!” My snap echoed around the dining room.

“He blew up part of the stadium, killingthousandsof innocent spectators.” My dad was eerily calm as he argued. “How you view him doesn’t matter. The media says he’s a terrorist, and now we have to contend with his legacy all because you wanted to keep—” My dad gestured to my stomach—“thatthing.”

“Myson.”And why wouldn’t I? Trying to force your child to have an abortion was barbaric. “I know the life I picked is a hard, shitty, lonely path. One that has disappointedeveryone. But I’m an adult, and I need you to stop judging me and justsupportme.”

My dad tipped his chin lower, glaring at me through his brow. Mom placed a hand on his chest, but he removed it as quickly as he could.

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