When we’re able to join the party, Patricia scoops some of the casserole onto a plate and holds it up in invitation for Kayden, wriggling her eyebrows.
“I’ll pass.” He shakes his head, shoving his hands deep into the pocket of his khaki shorts. “I’m supposed to be eating clean until the fight.”
“But it’s your favorite,” she notes with a frown. “You and Brent used to beg me to make it for you every day for school.”
“Fine. I’ll have a bit,” he mutters, pinching some off the plate. Patricia’s face lights up in delight. “But no hot dogs for me,” he warns, pointing to his dad who’s just about to offer him a freshly made hot dog right off the grill.
Elijah gives a disappointed head shake and hands the plate to Brent, who gladly takes it.
I settle into the unoccupied seat beside Brent and grab a plate, helping myself to the food. Despite my lack of hunger, I’m afraid I might lose approval points from the Jacobs if I don’t eat something.
“So, Sienna . . .” Elijah nods toward me as he pokes the hot dogs around with his spatula. “What do you do?”
“I’m an MMA trainer,” I say, collecting a few lemon tarts on my plate. “In fact, I used to train Kayden.”
“That’s impressive.” He cuts a glance at Kayden, who stands uncomfortably beside me while he chews his casserole. “How is my boy in the ring?”
“Good,” I say with a smile. “One of the best fighters I’ve ever had the privilege of working with.”
“She’s exaggerating.” Kayden waves a dismissive hand.
I look up at him. “You know I don’t exaggerate.”
Patricia presses her lips together, hands resting on her hips as she looks at me. “Don’t you find it such a gritty sport?”
“I suppose it is,” I say with a shrug. “But it’s also the purest form of combat. It takes a lot of mental and physical strength to do MMA. And I think it should be celebrated because of that.”
“MMA maybe. Debatable. But the underground can hardly be called a sport,” she says with a scoff. “Do you fight in the underground, Sienna?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Good. At least you’re not in the business of associating yourself with an illegal syndicate like Kayden over here,” she mutters as she begins to clear the empty plates scattered across the table. “You know, I still don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself.”
Brent chews silently, sensing the awkwardness that has arrived with this new topic of conversation. Evans bumps his head down and stuffs the remainder of his casserole into his mouth as silently as he can.
“Patricia,” Elijah warns. “Not now, please.”
His wife ignores him. Cuts a narrowed glance at her adopted son.
“I’m sorry, but you know I have to say something. You know Eli and I try to be supportive of what you do, Kayden,” she says sternly. “And we try hard to understand. But it’s getting harder for us to stand idly by while you fight these men for money. Especially when we’ve given you plenty already.”
A muscle tenses in Kayden’s jaw as his gaze dips, looking down at his feet. “You know it’s not about the money.”
“I know, but that doesn’t make it any less wrong.” Patricia swivels her head to me, a slight edge to her voice. “What do you think about it, Sienna?”
Fuck.
The entire family is now staring at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. It swamps with me unease and I gulp hard, scrambling to search for the least wrong answer.
My voice feels tight when I finally speak again. “I, um, I have my own reservations about the underground, but I think if that’s what he wants to pursue, I—I won’t stop him.”
Patricia’s frown deepens, dissatisfied with my response.
“Well, I disagree with that,” she replies, her face set in a tense countenance.
I suck in a breath to ease the tightness clutching my chest but it only serves to strengthen its place even more.
Kayden is right; Patricia really is a tough critic.