“Amen,” someone from the crowd obliges.
Some of the crowd are warming to him. It’s hard not to respond to his enthusiasm, his square-jawed charm. If I didn’t know better, I might half believe his wholesome God-is-good act, because the words aren’t all bad. Some of them might even be nice, if they didn’t purposefully exclude anyone in the room who isn’t Christian—and if they were sincere.
They aren’t, though. That’s the thing with Aaron. He isn’t who he pretends to be.
Neither are you, a nagging voice in my head reminds me. It’s the part of me that chafes against slipping into other people’s lives, that loathes having to nod and agree when inside I’m rebelling against everything that’s being said. It’s all for the greater good, I know. But increasingly, it’s becoming harder and harder to really feel that way. Stopping Aaron Miller is important. But being kept apart from Nina, having to pretend that she doesn’t mean as much to me as she does, having to pretend to care for someone else ... it doesn’t feel right or good. It feelswrong.
“You know, one of the things I’ve always loved about the South—” Aaron stops abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he spots something in the crowd. Someone. For a moment, just a moment, his affable mask slips. “What are you doing here?” he blurts before clamping his mouth shut again—clearly irritated at himself for the slipup.
I turn to see who he’s looking at. So does everyone else in the room.
It’s . . . Nina.
My entire body tightens instinctively.Nina’s here. Her presence is unexpected, and it’s a problem, considering the show I’m going to have to put on tonight. But more to the point, it’s a problem because of the way Aaron Miller is looking ather, the way his mask slipped, like he spotted a cockroach skittering across the floor instead of his niece. His beautiful, kind, smart, talented niece, who should never be made to feel less than, not by anybody.
“Be cool,” Morrie tells me in my ear, as if he can read my thoughts. He doesn’t have to. He can likely see what I’m feeling all over my face.
And so can the camera. I do my best to school my expression again, even though I can’t help but let my eyes follow after Nina as she winds through the crowd.
At my side, Harmony grips my arm a little tighter. “I thought Daddy told her to stay home ...” She sounds nervous, but also awed. It’s obvious that no one, and especially not Nina, has ever dared to outright defy Aaron like this before.
And that’s what Nina is. Defiant. The emotion radiates clearly in her body language as she cuts through the crowd. Aaron has started speaking again, sermonizing in his usual cadence, but almost nobody is listening to him; they’re too focused on Nina and her determined march toward the stage.
An arm reaches out, stopping her. Perry. “Nina Delgado?” he asks her, looking pleased as punch with himself as he glances over at Sienna and Rae, who have also stopped watching Aaron onstage and wait, tensely, to see how this will unfold.
My gut clenches. He’s finally caught her. Nina won’t be able to lie; she just isn’t very good at it, especially when she’s called out so directly. She’s going to get fired. I know how much the job means to her, what a lifeline it’s been, and I preemptively ache for her.
To my surprise—and everyone else’s, it seems—Nina just shrugs him off. “Yeah, I know. I’m off the show.” She continues toward the stairs that will allow her access to the stage.
Even with one of the cameras still on my face, I can’t help my jaw from dropping. What the hell is going on? Luckily, when I collect myself and glance over at Harmony, who clearly just overheard the same exchange, her expression is almost exactly the same. At least I’m not alone in being shocked by this turn of events.
By the time I turn back to Aaron, Nina has made it onto the stage. He’s doing his best to pretend she isn’t there, to keep speaking in his normal pandering tone, but his voice sounds strained, and it’s clearlyan effort.
She taps him on the shoulder. He ignores her. So she does it again, this time raising her voice loud enough to be picked up by the microphone.
“Hey. Hey! I have something to say.”
Chapter 40
Nina
I’ve come to the community center charged on pure adrenaline, pure anger, pure rage. I hardly notice my family as I pass them, or Lyle, or Sienna, or Rae. Even Wes barely registers as a blip in my peripheral vision, I’m so focused on Uncle Aaron. It’s time to finally hold him accountable. It’s time for everyone to see who he truly is.
But the look he gives me when he finally turns to face me on the stage stops me cold. Uncle Aaron has never liked me. He’s never been warm. He’s never made any secret about the fact that he doesn’t want me in his family. But this outright contempt in his eyes is something wholly new.
His face is turned away from the crowd and the cameras, back toward me, so only I can see him. Only I can see the way he’s looking at me like I’m a disgusting little bug he wants to squash under his shoe.
Suddenly I’m seven years old again, trying to reach out and hold his hand in church, only for him to shake me off him and walk away. I’m fifteen, raising my arms and kneeling so he can check the modesty of my outfit, knowing he’s doing so because he thinks I’m so inherently sinful that I must be trying to get away with something. I’m twenty-two, returning to his house after leaving my postulancy, seeing in his expression that I’ve just confirmed everything that he already thought was true.
Ifreeze.
I can’t help it. I don’t want to do it. I promised myself I wouldn’t when I made the decision to come to the community center so I could confront him.Never again, I’d promised myself.
But old instincts die hard. For years,years, I’ve been trying to win Aaron’s approval, capture even the tiniest morsel of his love. Even with everything I know now, it’s hard to face him, knowing he’s displeased with me.
Seeming to realize he’s gained some ground, Aaron lowers his voice to a menacing whisper. “Get. Off. The. Stage.”
I’m too frozen to do even that. If my flight instinct could kick in right about now, that would be helpful. For the first time, I become fully aware of all the lights, the cameras, and the people witnessing this moment. Desperately, I search the crowd for Wes, but the auditorium is too dark, the stage lights too bright, and it’s impossible to pick him out.
