“You’re not negotiating basic hygiene, brat,” Kai says, but there’s no real bite in it.
“I am if you want me in there,” she replies, her tone softening just enough to make it clear she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You know my terms.”
Kai lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half defeat. “Of course you’ve got terms.”
Koa’s mouth curves faintly, his hand still steady at her back. “We can manage terms.”
I look away.
Not because I don’t want to watch – god knows I do – but because I need the space. Need the distance before she turns that focus on me again and I’m forced to either give her what she’s asking for or explain why I won’t.
And I don’t have a good answer for that.
I don’t have any answer for it that doesn’t sound like weakness.
“You’re stalling.”
Sol’s voice is quiet when it comes, low enough that it doesn’t carry across the room. He doesn’t look at me immediately, his attention still loosely on Lani as Kai finally manages to steer her toward the bathroom with Koa backing him up, her protests half-hearted at best.
“I’m pacing,” I reply, just as quietly.
He huffs a breath that might almost be a laugh. “You’re lying.”
I don’t argue.
There’s no point.
The door to the bathroom shuts behind them, Kai’s voice muffled as Lani’s laughter follows it, the sound bright and unrestrained in a way that makes something in my chest tighten.
Sol shifts slightly beside me, careful of his side, but there’s nothing uncertain about the way his attention settles fully on me now.
“What is it?” he asks.
Simple.
Direct.
No room to deflect.
I take a second before answering, not because I don’t know, but because putting it into words makes it real in a way I’ve been avoiding.
“My father,” I say finally.
The silence that follows isn’t surprised.
Of course it isn’t.
Sol’s seen enough. Heard enough. He doesn’t need it spelled out for him to understand where this is going.
“He doesn’t get a say here,” Sol replies, his voice steady.
“He’ll take one anyway,” I say, sharper than I intend. “You know he will. He always does.”
Sol’s gaze doesn’t shift. “Only if you let him.”
I let out a slow breath, tension pulling tight through my shoulders. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” he says. “You just don’t like the version of it where you push back.”