Page 415 of Lodestar

Hiding a smile, I explained, “It’s a coming-of-age story.”

If anything, that perplexed him even more. “Okay,” he drawled, extending the ‘ay’ sound.

“Son, come on in,” Declan invited, patting the cushion on the couch next to him.

Shay frowned. “Am I in trouble? I only came in because Aunt Aoife wanted me to tell you dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thanks, son. We just, we wanted to talk to you about things.”

“Things? If it’s about my grade in gym class, the coach has it in for me?—”

“He still giving you shit because he wants you on the track team and you keep refusing?”

Grimacing, Shay nodded at Brennan’s question. “I don’t have time with my other extracurriculars.”

“Understandable,” Aidan conceded.

Shay’s gaze flickered around the circle we made, not landing for long on his uncles until he came to a halt on mine. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I appeased with a gentle smile. Somehow, that deepened his frown.

Apparently, I didn’t have Aoife’s skill of soothing with a smile.

“You ever thought about the future, bud?” Brennan asked.

“Sure, Uncle Bren, most of the time. Stops me wanting to beat the crap out of kids in my class who piss me off.”

Brennan chuckled, but Declan queried, “What do you think about? College?”

Shay snorted. “No. But I’ve had to think about it more since the guidance counselor looped me in on the extra credit I’ll need to get into Harvard.

"It’ll suck but it’s a good launch pad. I can make the right connections, especially if I make it into a fraternity.”

Aidan scratched his chin. “You’ll make it into a fraternity.”

Shay’s frown was stark. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re a wealthy man, Shay. Not just because of your dad, but because of your mom. She’s a famous artist. You think they’re going to blackball you?”

“Anything’s possible. I’m not exactly popular in my school now.”

“You have time to iron out the creases, and what you can’t iron out, we can help you with.”

“The question is,” I inserted before Aidan could bury himself in his own grave. “How much are you willing to sacrifice to get where you want?”

The question floored him. “Sacrifice?”

I nodded. “Sacrifice. Everything’s a sacrifice, Shay. You don’t know me well, and to be frank, you don’t know anyone in this room as well as your mom.Butthink about it. To raise you right, she had to make a sacrifice. Love is a sacrifice; honor’s a sacrifice.

“You can play dirty, or you can play straight. Either way, it’ll cost you. You’re the one who decides how expensive something is and whether or not you’re willing to pay the price to achieve your goals.”

As he studied me, I noticed that the others faded out of the conversation. I wasn’t sure if that was smart, but no one said a word, letting him formulate his own answer because that was what mattered here.

At this moment, Shay had a choice that few sixteen-year-olds would be capable of making. That few teens would ever get either.

“What are we talking about here?” was what he eventually said.

Clever kid—he knew something deeper was going on, just didn’t know the minutiae and wasn’t willing to kick himself in the ass by speaking out of turn.

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