Chapter 15 Town Eyes #2
"Mom?"
His mother's smile appeared.
Tight.
Polite.
Not particularly warm.
"Hello, sweetheart."
The nickname immediately made him uneasy.
Because she only used it when she wanted something.
His father nodded.
"Elliot."
The greeting felt equally formal.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Roy looked uncomfortable.
A rare sight.
The older man stepped aside.
"Maybe you should talk."
No one disagreed.
Ten minutes later, they sat around the dining room table.
The atmosphere felt tense enough to crack.
Elliot already knew why they were here.
Nobody drove hundreds of miles without a reason.
The rumors had reached them.
The realization felt inevitable.
His mother folded her hands.
The movement looked rehearsed.
Prepared.
As though she'd practiced this conversation.
"We've heard some concerning things."
There it was.
Right on schedule.
Elliot stared at the table.
Then back at her.
"What things?"
His father sighed heavily.
The sound immediately irritated him.
Because it carried the same tone he'd heard countless times growing up.
The tone that suggested disappointment before the conversation even started.
"Elliot."
"What things?"
The repeated question forced an answer.
His mother's expression tightened.
"About you."
A pause.
"And Mr. Blackwell."
The way she said Damon's name made something inside Elliot immediately bristle.
Cold.
Dismissive.
Judgmental.
As though she'd already reached a conclusion.
The realization sparked anger.
Fast.
His father leaned forward slightly.
"We'd like an explanation."
The words landed badly.
Very badly.
Because Elliot was twenty-one years old.
Not sixteen.
Not a child.
Not someone requiring permission.
Yet somehow they still spoke as though they possessed authority over every decision he made.
Old habits.
Old expectations.
Old control.
For years, Elliot would've immediately started explaining.
Defending.
Justifying.
Tonight felt different.
"An explanation for what?"
His mother looked genuinely surprised.
Apparently resistance wasn't expected.
"The rumors."
"What about them?"
The silence that followed felt almost comical.
Because neither parent seemed prepared for questions.
Only compliance.
His father finally spoke.
"People are talking."
"People always talk."
The answer came quickly.
Calmly.
His mother's expression hardened.
"Elliot."
"No."
The interruption surprised everyone.
Including himself.
For a moment, the room went completely still.
The version of Elliot they knew didn't interrupt.
Didn't challenge.
Didn't push back.
That version no longer existed.
The realization settled quietly.
Powerfully.
His father frowned.
"Watch your tone."
There it was.
The familiar command.
The one that had ended countless conversations throughout his childhood.
Watch your tone.
Don't argue.
Be reasonable.
Be agreeable.
Be what we want.
Something inside Elliot finally reached its limit.
Years of swallowed words suddenly felt very heavy.
"I'm not sixteen."
The statement landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Neither parent spoke.
So he continued.
"I'm not a child."
His voice remained steady.
Stronger than he felt.
"You don't get to show up unannounced and demand explanations."
His mother's eyes widened.
Shock.
Genuine shock.
Apparently she'd never considered the possibility.
The realization would've been funny under different circumstances.
"Elliot, we're worried about you."
The statement sounded sincere.
Unfortunately, sincerity wasn't enough.
"Why?"
The question escaped immediately.
His mother blinked.
"What?"
"Why are you worried?"
Silence.
The answer seemed obvious to them.
Not to him.
His father finally sighed.
"The age difference."
Fair.
The concern wasn't entirely unreasonable.
His mother added another.
"The rumors."
Less fair.
Much less fair.
Then came the real issue.
The one hiding beneath everything else.
"His background."
There it was.
The judgment.
The assumption.
The belief that a person's worst mistakes defined them forever.
Anger flared immediately.
Because unlike them, Elliot actually knew Damon.
Not rumors.
Not gossip.
Not old stories.
The man.
And the difference mattered.
A lot.
"You don't know him."
The statement came quietly.
Yet somehow it carried more weight than anything else he'd said.
His mother looked frustrated.
"We know enough."
"No."
The word arrived instantly.
Certain.
"You don't."
His father rubbed his forehead.
Clearly struggling with patience.
"We're trying to protect you."
The familiar argument.
One he'd heard throughout most of his life.
Protection.
Guidance.
Concern.
All the pretty words people used when they wanted control.
Something inside Elliot finally snapped.
Not dramatically.
Just completely.
"No."
The room went silent again.
His own voice sounded different.
Stronger.
Certain.
For perhaps the first time ever.
"You've been trying to manage me."
Neither parent responded.
Because they couldn't.
The truth sat between them.
Obvious.
Uncomfortable.
Real.
"You decided who I should be."
Elliot looked directly at them.
One at a time.
"You decided what success looked like."
His mother looked away first.
Interesting.
"You decided what was acceptable."
Years of frustration poured into the words.
Not anger.
Honesty.
Pure honesty.
"And every time I wanted something different, you acted like something was wrong with me."
The statement hurt.
Even now.
Especially now.
Because part of him had believed it for years.
Believed he was too sensitive.
Too emotional.
Too different.
Too much.
The realization made his chest ache.
Then another realization followed.
Damon never made him feel that way.
Not once.
The contrast felt impossible to ignore.
His father finally spoke.
Softly.
Almost carefully.
"Elliot."
The concern sounded real.
For the first time all evening.
"We just want what's best for you."
The words hung in the air.
For a moment, Elliot almost surrendered.
Almost returned to old patterns.
Then he remembered the diner.
The rumors.
The scholarship.
The arguments.
The choices waiting ahead.
Most importantly, he remembered who he was becoming.
Not who other people wanted him to be.
Who he actually was.
A slow breath escaped him.
Then he stood.
The movement surprised everyone.
Including himself.
"I know."
The words came gently.
Honest.
"I know you think that."
His parents watched him.
Waiting.
Elliot met their gaze.
For perhaps the first time in his life, he didn't feel small.
Didn't feel uncertain.
Didn't feel afraid.
The realization felt extraordinary.
"But this is my life."
Silence.
Beautiful silence.
Because the truth had finally arrived.
No apologies.
No excuses.
No permission requested.
Just truth.
"I'm going to make my own choices."
The words settled heavily.
Permanently.
Nothing would be the same after this.
He knew it.
So did they.
For several long moments, nobody spoke.
Then his mother looked down.
His father sighed.
Neither seemed happy.
Neither seemed victorious.
For once, neither seemed in control.
And standing there in the dining room of Roy's small Texas house, Elliot realized something remarkable.
Growing up wasn't about having all the answers.
It was about finally choosing your own path.
Even when other people disagreed.
Especially when they disagreed.
For the first time in his life, he had done exactly that.
· ? ·