Don’t do this, I willed him with my eyes.

Without a hint of regret, he delivered the blow. “No, he’s not.”

My mouth fell open in disbelief.

Dad nodded, as if Blake’s words were all he needed to hear. “Then you’re not seeing him.”

I laughed, but it sounded empty. “Dad, Reese is⁠—”

“If Blake says he’s no good, then he’s no good.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I was seething now, my restraint crumbling under the weight of the unfairness. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dad gave me a look that was meant to be calming but only fueled my frustration. “I trust Blake’s judgment.”

I stared at him, incredulous.

My fingers curled into fists under the table.

He shot me another look, one that said, This is final, Beverly.

“What gives him the right?” I snapped, gesturing at Blake.

“Blake has a good head on his shoulders⁠—”

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” I cut in, my voice rising with each word. “That doesn’t mean he gets to decide who I go out with.”

Dad’s expression hardened. “You don’t even know this boy.”

“Oh, and Blake does?” I shot back.

Mom let out a sigh, the kind that said, We know better than you. “Blake has good instincts about people, Beverly.”

I scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

“Language,” she chided, but I was beyond caring.

“You don’t get to do that,” I snapped, fixing Blake with a glare. “You don’t get to make this decision for me.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully blank. “Then make a better one.”

For a second, I considered throwing my glass of water in his face. The image of it—the stunned look on his face—was almost enough to calm me, but I knew better; it wouldn’t do anything.

He’d probably just stare at me and go on like nothing had happened, his blank expression never changing.

I shoved my chair back so quickly it scraped against the floor. “Unbelievable.”

Mom sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re overreacting.”

“Are you not listening?” I gestured wildly between all of them. “He doesn’t even know Reese! You’re letting him make decisions about my life like I’m incapable of thinking for myself.”

Dad’s look of warning did nothing to quell my irritation.

I turned to Blake, my fists clenching at my sides as my hands shook with anger. “Say something,” I hissed. “Explain yourself.”

Nothing.

I hated the way he looked so calm, so unaffected, as if he hadn’t just ruined the one thing I had left for myself.

Frustration boiling over, I slammed my hand on the table, making the silverware jump. “Blake!”

He didn’t look at me. Like I wasn’t even there.

“Beverly,” Dad warned.