Page 70 of Mercy & Malice

“No thanks, I’m good.”

A few moments later, Micah casually drops into the chair next to me, then pours himself some coffee as Freddie asks if he would like breakfast. He declines, sipping his coffee while the three of us sit in an awkward silence.

Mom sets her mug down, clearing her throat. “I know things have been hectic around here, but I’m disappointed in the both of you.”

This is more embarrassing than anything else. “Don’t worry, Mom. Nothing happened.”

Mom refuses to look at me as she continues, “Regardless, it’s not right to sleep in the same room. Lines can become skewed when temptation sets in. I know the two of you went through something very traumatic together, but it’s not appropriate to share a bed.”

My hands tremble slightly as I move them off the table and grip the edge of my chair when memories of the cold, grimy floor where I slept with him plenty of times fill my head. “I think we sailed way beyond appropriate a while ago.”

She’s still refusing to look my way, instead choosing to brush the already clean tablecloth with her hand. “I understand that there have been feelings between the two of you in the past. However, circumstances are different now, and we need to discuss what this means for us all.”

“You really don’t have to worry about that.” I look at Micah who’s seems unperturbed while silently enjoying his morning cup of joe. “All past feelings have changed also.”

“Brooke, we—” Her words cut off as she picks up her fork then sets it back down again, her fingers trembling slightly. She’s nervous about something. That worries me more than thinking she’s upset or angry.

“What’s going on?”

Mom folds her hands in her lap before she finally looks to me. “I wanted to wait until Donald returned so we could speak with you two and Luca together.”

I look to Micah, noting he’s still unbothered before I focus back to my mom’s announcement. “We’re getting married. Donald proposed, and I said yes. We will all be family formally, that’s why this has to stop right now. The two of you can’t be together. It wouldn’t be proper.”

My mind is spinning, so many thoughts jamming together, and they all want to blurt out at the same time. She doesn’t want me to be with Micah because it won’t be proper since she’s marrying Donald. The same man she was involved with while still married to my father—who is very much not a saint—but out of all of us, my behavior is the issue.

“Neither is sleeping with another man while you’re still married. But you wouldn’t just leave him. Instead, you snuck around and did something that wasn’t proper at all.”

Micah shifts in his chair, still relaxed and composed as he instructs me, “Brooke, calm down.”

He’s choosing this moment to respond, and that’s the best suggestion he has?

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. I’m sitting through a sex lecture even though I’m going to die a freaking virgin since I’ll never be able to show anyone the brands on my body and the one who’s seen them won’t even touch me. But good thing you’ll be around to fill in the role as my stepbrother and remind me of that for the rest of my life.”

Micah ignores my tirade and tells my mom, “You don’t know the man you’ve agreed to marry. And if you did, you’d never want to be anywhere near him.”

Mom looks between the two of us, remaining silent for a minute before she says, “I understand this is a shock to both of you.”

“It’s not a shock,” I quickly retort. “I’m glad you’re moving on, but you don’t get to define my relationship—or lack thereof—because your fling is ready to commit since your husband is dead now.”

“That’s enough,” Micah states.

His tone is forceful but more frustrated and directed at me. And it makes me so mad I can’t think straight. He’s taking her side and defending her. It might’ve been my father’s rule that I couldn’t date, but she was right there with him on board to keep us apart while she had an affair, nonetheless. “You’re right. I’ve had enough. Time to pretend we’re a big happy fucking family. I’ve had plenty of practice, so no need to lecture me on that.”

Standing, I hurry out as I hear Mom call my name. Once I’m upstairs, I quickly brush my teeth and grab my keys. When I start down the stairs, she is waiting for me at the bottom.

“We’re not done with this conversation, Brooke. Talk to me.”

I swallow down every thought that pops into my head. I don’t want to hurt her. And each one is just as hateful and hurtful as the last. All the resentment and bitterness that is usually reserved for my father feels like it’s clawing at my chest, wanting to escape and inflict hurt on the closest person it can find.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re getting married. Congrats.”

“No, it’s not that simple. I want to discuss this with you because I need you to be okay with this. With all of it. I need you to tell me how you feel so we can work through it. We will figure out what this looks like.” Mom’s hopeful expression makes me feel even worse.

But I still say it. “What do you want to hear? That I’m happy you’re moving on from the abusive man you married that you should’ve left years ago? Great. I am.”

Her arms cross over her chest as she utters, “I understand this is bad timing with everything. And I didn’t want to spring this on you since you already have so much on your shoulders. Things I don’t even know about because you refuse to even speak to me about what transpired. I can’t help you heal if you don’t allow me in.”

For someone who has made her career out of wrangling adolescents, she really isn’t good with her own. “Because you won’t look at me the same if I tell you everything that happened. You’ll look at me like Micah does, like I’m ruined and damaged and will break at any second. If you think merely sleeping in a bed with Micah is inappropriate and disappointing, you’d be disgusted and horrified at what I did. You’d hate me, and you’d hate Micah.”