Page 62 of Unmade

This did not qualify as avoiding the topic.

I cleared my throat, set my water on the nightstand, and pulled my feet up on the bed.

“They’re not, though,” I muttered.

“Yeah. They are,” he responded slowly. “And now that we know who they are as people…? Pup, they would never reject you. Darius might come off as a stoic, antisocial hermit, but last I heard, he had three kids and a husband.”

I glanced at him. “He’s gay?”

He lifted his brows. “Well, I don’t think he’s straight.”

Huff. Very funny.

I dropped my stare again.

“Same could be said about his brother,” he went on. “Ryan’s a fun guy. The life of the party and one hell of a jarhead and sniper. And he lives with his wife and their boyfriend. And a bunch of kids.”

Damn.

I chewed on my lip. I’d certainly never seen any of that on social, and Ryan’s wife was one of the few who was open in public. She did post a lot of photos of children, except she always put emojis over their faces.

“My question is why you panicked in the cafeteria,” Beckett said. “We’ve talked about your old man’s family before. Was it the timing? The fact that several of us here know them? The subject matter on its own isn’t enough.”

I rubbed my forehead. Just like all the other times he’d asked me something I was uncomfortable with, I knew I was going to answer, and it annoyed me. Why did he need to know everything? On the other hand, what it boiled down to was how fucking pathetic I was, because if I told him I didn’t wanna talk about it, he’d shrug, say something mentor-like, and walk away. Or, even worse, he’d stay and just wait me out like Doc. Beckett wasn’t one to punish someone by leaving.

I wasn’t stupid. I understood it was in my best interest to be honest.

It just sucked.

Embrace the suck, soldier.

Ugh.

“Fear got the best of me.” I shrugged and glued my gaze to the floor. “I went straight to a scenario in which they want nothing to do with me, and considering they know people here, I might have to leave the program.”

It sounded so dumb when I said it out loud. Fucking hell.

“That’s a big leap,” Beckett noted.

“Yeah, yeah. Doc’s already mentioned I have abandonment issues. Riveting stuff.”

I didn’t know why I felt that way. It wasn’t as if anyone had left me voluntarily. My family had always been small. But then, it was really fucking noticeable when someone died.

“No one’s making you leave, Leighton. You’re already an asset to Hillcroft, and Coach and I hope to see you at final selection next summer.”

That would be cool. I wanted to stay. I wanted to belong here.

“But you do need to make a decision about the Quinns,” he added. “And let me be clear—your last decision was shit.”

I scowled at him.

He smiled. “They tend to visit.”

Whoa, what? “Who?”

He shrugged. “Mostly Ryan. He stops by when he’s on the East Coast. It’s not unheard of that he takes on assignments either.”

Oh fuck. Was there a way to get a heads-up when he was in the area so I could hide?

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