LILY
Later that afternoon, I was still thinking about the way Roland’s expression had shifted at breakfast.
It was quick and subtle, but I saw it.
It wasn’t unusual for his father to talk to him like that; I’d seen it too many times growing up.
Elementary school tournaments where Ronald scored the winning goal and scanned the bleachers anyway.
Middle school championships, where other boys ran into their fathers’ arms, while Ronald shrugged it off, pretending not to care.
High school nationals, where he was named MVP, and his father sent a short, dry “Congrats” text hours later.
The not-so-good players always had their fathers there, cheering, clapping, and recording.
But Ronald?
He always acted like he didn’t need it, but I knew better. We all did.
“Lily,” Bella’s voice cut thro
