“Dylan—” she began.
“No. You don’t get to call this a fresh start when you skipped the start entirely.”
My dad covered his mouth with one hand. His eyes were shining.
My own throat tightened, but I forced the next words out because they were the truest words I had ever spoken.
“I spent years wondering if, if you ever saw me, you’d be proud of me.” I took a breath. “But I don’t need that anymore. Because the only parent whose pride matters is already standing right here.”
Dad broke then.
A single, ragged sob escaped him before he turned away and pressed his fist to his eyes.
My mother looked stunned, like reality had finally reached her and she had no idea what to do with it.
