Page 113 of Contested

“Right. ‘Cause it’s so easy to talk when you’re crying.”

Sebastian froze. The irritation dropped too quickly, leaving a hollow space beneath it. “What happened?”

Loren spun, arm thrown out in a harsh gesture toward the massage table. “What the fuck is this?”

“Nothing. Loren, what happened?” Sebastian pressed, stepping toward her.

“The cancer spread.” Loren inhaled sharply, her voice cracking on the next words. “They don’t think he has long.”

Sebastian’s mind went blank, as if every thought had stepped back at once and left him standing there with nothing useful in his mouth.

“I didn’t know—”

“Because you didn’t fucking call!” Loren yelled, the Vietnamese slicing through the air as a tear slipped from her eye.

Sebastian took a step back. He kept his gaze on Loren, his breathing now matching his pounding heart. His father’s illness had been there for months in the background of things he was supposed to handle better. Something he thought about when Loren texted, when his mother called, and he let it go to voicemail, when he promised himself he would ring back after training and then after dinner and then tomorrow.

“You said you’d try,” she said, wiping her face and turning to face the window. “And I actually thought you would.”

“I am—” He cut the lie off before it had fully formed. “I will. I’m…”

“Worrying about yourself.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No.” Loren sighed, watching Sebastian again. “It’s what you’ve always done.”

“That’s not fair.” Sebastian’s voice rose, and his jaw flexed.

“When has this ever been fair?”

The words landed between them with enough force to make Sebastian look away.

“Look.” Sebastian inhaled deeply. “I’ve been busy. With training. With other stuff. I didn’t know it was that bad. You said it wasn’t. I… I’ll… call.”

“This isn’t just about Dad, Seb. Or Mum. Do you know how fucked this is for me? All the shit I’ve got going on, I still have to show up for them.”

“I know.” Sebastian shifted his weight. “But, like, you also barely reach out.”

Loren scoffed. “I used to. All the time. But you never cared. Or bothered. Why would I reach out to someone who doesn’t want me around?”

“That’s not—I don’t not want you around.” Sebastian’s eyes darted toward his bedroom, then back to Loren. “Look, can we not do this now?”

“Why? So you can not answer me again?” Loren pressed, rubbing her hand down her face. “God. You make it hard to not be angry at you sometimes.”

“Yes. I’m shit. I get it. But can I meet you in like ten—”

A thud from down the hall cut Sebastian off. Loren’s gaze snapped to the hallway.

“Fuck.”

“What was that?” Loren questioned, stepping toward the hall, eyes bouncing between it and the massage table. “Oh. Oh. Right. You’re busy.”

“That’s not—”

Loren didn’t wait to listen to what he said and headed toward his bedroom.

Sebastian was right on her heel. His hand went to her shoulder, but she shrugged it off as she came to stop outside his door.