“It’s about my future.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve decided this will be my last year competing.”
“Is that so?” His words were inquisitive, yet his tone held an underpinning of irritation.
“Stand up straight, dear,” her ever-helpful mother reminded softly.
Tabitha did as she was told, instantly hating the ingrained obedience. Still, she maintained the posture but reasoned it was to portray the confidence she sorely lacked. “I plan on starting my journalism degree next fall.”
Her father relaxed back in his chair and resumed reading. “And how did you come to this conclusion?”
“I’ve been thinking about this for some time, and it’s what I want to do.”
“Journalism is a perfectly fine job”—he lifted his paper as evidence to support his comment—“but it’s not what we want for you.”
“It’s what I want for myself.” Tabitha looked between her parents. Her father still stared at his article, unwilling to be bothered with his only daughter’s desire for something more.
Her mother lifted her teacup to her lips, took a sip, and fixed a pleasant smile on her face. “You still have several good years left. Let’s talk about a different path once you stop qualifying.”
“I’m not going to wait until I fail to pivot into something that will benefit my future.” She wasn’t going to back down. Not this time. “I refuse to sit back and be passive about this—”
“Instead, you’ll waste your talent,” her father criticized.
“It wouldn’t be wasted. I’ll be using my experience to launch into something new. My focus will be in sports journalism.”
“You’d throw it all away,” he demanded, voice raising. “Your skill? The countless hours spent training?”
“The sponsorships?” her mother added quietly over her cup of green tea.
“Not to mention the funds we’ve invested in your development—”
“I’m your daughter,” Tabitha interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not an investment.” She straightened her spine, remembering Zac’s supportive words from earlier. “I’m your daughter, and you should be supporting me.”
“And you don’t think us flying you all over the world for competitions is supportive? Paying for your coaches? Paying your bills? What’s gotten into you, Tabitha?”
“It’s probably that boy,” her mother offered.
“Is that who’s been filling your head with this journalism garbage? Some punk in a shit van?” He turned to his wife. “I blame you for not paying attention, Marjorie.”
“She’s twenty-two. I figured she knew better,” she sputtered, concern over upsetting the family’s patriarch confiscating her focus.
As the argument about Tabitha shifted between her parents, she once again felt the sting of guilt and powerlessness. They weren’t wrong about the monetary support. She wouldn’t have been as successful in her climbing career if it hadn’t been for their financial backing. But did that mean she belonged to them? They fostered her talents and invested so much to develop her into a remarkable athlete. Climbing was her life. It had been since she was a young child. But she no longer wanted it to be what defined her. She wanted more. To make her own choices and lead a multifaceted life. To grow and change and maybe even fall in love.
Be brave, tabby cat.
As her parents bickered, tears stung her eyes, but she forced them away. Such expressions of emotion would never curry favor with her father. He’d tell her to toughen up. That because she already had so much privilege, being weak couldn’t be one of them.
Tabitha looked to Angus, who by this point had set down his book and tuned in to the altercation. His sky-blue eyes, though lined in worry, comforted her. He understood. Her twin—her best friend—supported her.
She’d give her mother and father this final year then move on to another dream. Angus would back her. Zac would too. Even if her parents never did.
Chapter thirty-one
