Beacon in the Darkness

26. Birthdays and Betrayals

If things were so dire that his father was reduced to writing him pleading letters every week, why wouldn't someone just tell him what was going on? Why did it have to be some big secret, something only his father could tell him? Didn't they understand how much he didn't want to see Manuel? How could they not fathom that hearing his father's name alone made him feel as though he wanted to thrust his fist through a wall? With that violent of a desire just from a name, how much worse would it be if he were to see him? To look into the eyes of the man that gave him life and then basically took it away in an instant.

It wasn't just that he didn't want to see Manuel, he was afraid of what he'd do when and if he did. Would he freak out and lose all of the progress he'd made up to that point? It had taken him twelve years to open up to anybody. And now that he had, he really didn't want to lose that feeling. The one that told him he was someone worth something, no matter what he'd done in the past. That he was alive and breathing and capable of love. What if seeing Manuel caused the walls to resurrect, to enclose his heart once more within layers and layers of hate, betrayal, and mistrust? He couldn't have that. Couldn't let this feeling go. He needed it, craved it.

No, he couldn't go. Not until he knew it wouldn't break him and return him to the unfeeling shell he had become. That wasn't the life he wanted. He wanted what he had now. A family. Friends. A girlfriend. People who understood where he'd come from and wanted him regardless. He may have been angry at the Jauregui for keeping things from him, but he didn't hate them. He didn't feel the need to distance himself like he had at the previous foster homes. But that didn't mean he wanted to see or talk to them at that moment.

Another soft knock sounded at the door.

He groaned. "I told you to leave me alone. I don't want to hear your excuses anymore."

"It's me, you ass."

Shawn sighed and moved to the door, twisting the lock and throwing it open. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, and glared down at his foster-sister. "Missing me already? It's only been a few hours since I graced you with my presence."

She scowled up at him, strode forward, and shoved him out of the way, crossing the threshold into his room. "Like I really want to be around you during one of your angst-ridden emo fits."

He closed the door and then crossed the floor, plopping down onto his back on the center of the bed. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he sighed. "Then what do you want, Lauren? If you haven't noticed, I'm really not in the mood for sibling banter at the moment—no matter how ingenious we may be with our wit and sarcasm."

She grunted and lay back next to him, shoving her hip into his side until he scooted over. The action took Shawn by surprise because Lauren had never acted so freely around him before. Sure, they'd had their fun arguing back and forth, but never had she seemed comfortable enough around him to come into his room and just hang with him.

"I just wanted to see if you were all right. Now you're making me regret caring in the first place." She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

Shawn dropped his own arm and turned his face toward her. She lay staring up at the ceiling, her black hair pulled away and hanging over the side of the bed.