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“Okay, Little One,” Oz agrees.
Tori’s smile is soft and sweet when Oz finally releases me to go pay for our cakes.
“Girls’ night in tomorrow?” she asks me.
Feeling more gratitude for my new friends than I know how to express, I nod, offering her a teary smile.
“I’ll text you,” she says, handing off the box of goodies to Oz before she waves goodbye.
“Let me put these in the truck, and we can go and buy groceries,” Oz says, pressing a kiss to my temple before he turns and jogs over to the truck, opening the door and slipping the cake box onto the seat. The truck beeps as he locks it, and he strides purposefully back over to me, sliding his arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his side.
The grocery store is just around the corner, and we walk in comfortable silence, the weight of his arm keeping me close, his comforting scent filling my lungs with every inhale. When we reach the store, he releases me to go and grabs a cart.
“You parade around this town, brazenly touting your disgusting relationship?” a familiar voice says from behind me.
Slowly turning, I find Bruce, my mom, and my siblings standing in the entrance of the grocery store, their hands full of bags.
Blinking slowly, I stare at them, shocked to find them still here.
“Do the people of this town know that you’re related? Do they know that you’re having relations with your brother?” Bruce asks too loudly, garnering the attention of the people trying to pass by them to get out of the store.
I want to speak, and I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, I feel Oz’s intimidating presence at my side.
“What the fuck are you doing? I thought you left.”
“How can we leave when my children are behaving in this way?” Bruce asks, his eyes bulging, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth as he hisses out his hateful words.
More tears fill my eyes, but they’re not tears of sadness or exhaustion. My tears are pure, fury-filled extensions of the anger that I can’t seem to put into words. How dare he say these awful things? Why is he acting this way?
“You need to leave. You’re not welcome in this town. This is our home, and I will not tolerate you spouting this fucking nonsense here.”
“You don’t want anyone to hear, because you’re ashamed, because you know what you’re doing is wrong!” Bruce yells.
My fingers clench into fists, and I feel my muscles start to shake, but still the words won’t come. I’m not a confrontational person. My entire life I’ve avoided drawing attention to myself because I’m too scared, too weak, and timid to defend myself.
“Fuck you, old man,” Oz scoffs, but I can feel his tension mounting at his dad’s hate-filled tirade.
“She’s your sister. I sent her here to be with family, not so you could defile her.”
Enough.
Rage—hotter than I’ve ever experienced before—burns through me until it bursts from my throat. “Shut up!” I scream. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Every single set of eyes within hearing distance turns and looks at me. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but it feels like the world suddenly goes quiet. Like me finding my voice is so shocking that everyone has fallen silent to listen.
“Bruce, you are not my father. Oz is not my brother. We’re not blood related in any way, shape, or form, and there is nothing wrong, shameful, or disgusting about us falling in love and getting married. We weren’t raised as siblings. We spent a few weekends and a handful of awful holiday seasons with each other and then didn’t see each other again for fifteen years. The only thing remotely distasteful about this entire situation is you. You cheated on your wife with my mom, then you dragged your son into the new home you set up with your new girlfriend and her daughter. Then you acted like nothing happened. You are by far the most pigheaded, obtuse man I’ve ever met, and I’m not at all surprised that your son doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Now that I’ve started speaking, I don’t seem to be able to stop.
“And Mom, what is wrong with you? Why are you just standing there and listening to your husband say such utter bullshit without saying a word? You know as well as he does that Oz is not your son, and Bruce is most certainly not my biological father?—”
“He raised you since you were nine years old,” Mom interrupts.
“Be quiet,” I snarl. “You had your chance to speak, and now it’s my turn. I know that you’ve always been who you thought he wanted you to be, but stupid and ignorant isn’t something anyone should strive to be. We didn’t tell you we got married because, first, our lives are not any of your business, and second, we were worried you’d pull something like this. This town is our home. We have friends and family here, and until you fully accept why everything that’s happened since you knocked on our front door is so incredibly wrong and sincerely apologize for acting this way, we’re not interested in you being a part of our lives.”
Turning away from my mom, like she’s completely insignificant, I look to my siblings. “Carson, Everly, Dawson. I love you guys. I really hope you know that even though both Oz and I are your half siblings, that doesn’t mean we’re related to each other in any way.”
“We know,” Carson says, turning and eyeing Oz cautiously.
