Page 9 of Breadwinner
There it was again—that flash of submission Nell had gotten a taste of earlier. Not outright; still cloaked in command and authority. She had seen how easily people could mistake submission for softness—yielding when someone lacked the will to fight—but Sarah didn’t yield. She calculated. She conserved.She chose where to spend her energy. She knew she didn’t have to take control to hold it.
And that fascinated Nell, because it meant Sarah wasn’t a threat to be neutralized. She was a force to be understood.
Nell laughed genuinely. “Thatis the most honest answer I’ve heard.” She leaned back in her seat, signaling to the waiter that they were ready for the check.
“My invitation, my treat,” she said sincerely, waving Sarah off, and they stood to exit the restaurant together. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Nate leaving slightly behind them.
Outside, the air had cooled, the sky turning the deep, rich blue that came with warm summer nights. Two cars were already waiting for them. Nell turned to Sarah, reached into her jacket pocket, then slipped a small, square black business card into Sarah’s hand.
“What’s this?” Sarah asked, examining the card with a slightly confused expression. She watched for a moment as Sarah flipped the card over in her long, slender fingers.
“A puzzle,” Nell said, with a grin. “Call me when you figure it out.”
Nate, who had been standing barely out of earshot, opened the car door, and Nell slid inside as Sarah called after her, “Does this mean I passed your test?”
Nell rolled down the window and let her eyes drag slowly over Sarah with purpose. She got the tiniest thrill at knowing Sarah was watching her.
“I’m still deciding,” she said, serving Sarah her words from earlier. With a last glance toward the card, Nell said, “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
She smiled as the car pulled away, and her thoughts stayed planted on the sidewalk, right where Sarah had been.
THREE
SARAH
The SUV jerked forward. It was way too fast, and with way too much acceleration. Sarah sucked in a tight gasp.
“Easy—easy! Brake. Brake, Lily.”
The tires jolted against the pavement as Lily stomped on the brake pedal with a force that made Sarah’s entire soul lurch forward. She threw an arm out instinctively, catching Lily across the chest before they even remotely approached danger.
“I’m literally in a parking lot, Mom. Relax.”
Sarah exhaled sharply, her knuckles white where she gripped the “oh shit” handle above the passenger seat.
“I’d like to remain alive while in said parking lot,” Sarah shot back, leveling a look at her daughter. “Gentle movements. You’re not launching a rocket.”
Lily, ever the competitor, huffed adjusting her grip on the wheel. Her Olympic rings tattoo, a battle Sarah had begrudgingly lost, peeked out from beneath the sleeve of her sweatshirt. It was an eternal reminder that her daughter was—at sixteen—already one of the greatest gymnasts in the world. A world-class athlete. A household name.
But here, in this car, in this empty parking lot, she was just Lily—a sixteen-year-old trying and failing to drive without causing the early, stress-related demise of her poor mother.
“Okay, okay,” Lily muttered, resetting her posture. She was determined now. Sarah could see it in the way her shoulders squared, the same way they did when she was about to mount the beam in competition.
Sarah sighed, rubbing her temple. “Alright. Let’s try again. Smoothly this time.”
Lily took a breath and gently pressed the gas, and this time, it wasn’t downright terrifying.
“Better,” Sarah admitted, her pulse only moderately elevated.
“See? Nailed it.”
Sarah hummed. “Let’s keep working on stopping and starting. I want to make sure you don’t send me through the windshield when we get on an actual road.”
Lily rolled her eyes as they fell into a comfortable rhythm. Accelerate smoothly, brake gently, coast, repeat. Sarah gradually relaxed. Almost.
It was strange—this version of Lily. She was the same brilliant, excitable, stubborn kid she had always been, but fame had stretched around her like a second skin. It hadn’t changed her, not really, but Sarah could see the way it had shaped the edges. How could it not? A year ago, she had been a fifteen-year-old with a dream. Then she went to the Olympics and walked away with three gold medals.
Now? She couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. She was on the front of cereal boxes, for crying out loud. But none of it seemed to faze Lily.