Not yours to reject
I think of Jaxton, steady through every storm, never once trying to force an answer from me the way Dean is forcing one now.
"No," I say, and the word comes out clear, steady, carrying across the entire hall without hesitation. "I don't accept your reclamation, Dean. I appreciate that you've changed. I believe you regret what you did. But respect isn't proven by cornering someone into answering in front of witnesses when private conversation would have honored the choice you claim to want me to have."
Dean's face falls, something raw and wounded crossing his expression, but he doesn't argue, doesn't push further, simply absorbs the answer with a quiet dignity that almost makes the refusal ha