She didn’t understand. None of them did. “I want you to be proud of me.” “I am. In so many ways. You’re smart, multitalented, dryly funny, and so very strong. You’re a fighter, Lucian. I admire that so much in you.” “Then how can you not see that this is me fighting? I’m climbing back to the top.” Her hand gripped the edge of the table as she leaned in. “You’re clinging on to an ideal. That isn’t fighting. That’s desperation.”
