Page 63 of Striker’s Rebel

But all I hear is that sentence.

A real family.

I look at the girl I shared bedrooms with. Food with. Clothes with. Every terrible foster placement and every good day we managed to steal between them.

My throat hurts.

“I thought I was your real family.”

Her face crumples.

“June, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded pretty clear.”

“No. I mean a different kind of family.”

“Yeah.”

I untie my apron because suddenly I need something to do with my hands.

She reaches for me.

I step back.

“June.”

“I need a minute.”

“Please.”

I look at Jamie.

He looks satisfied.

That almost makes me stay.

Almost.

Then I look back at Eliana.

My sister.

The person I would still walk through fire for even while she stands in front of me defending the man who hurt both of us.

“I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

My voice comes out quieter than I expect.

“I’m trying to keep him from taking you.”

She looks down.

I wait.

For what, I don’t know.

Maybe for her to choose me.