Page 134 of What We Become

Holden pauses with the cup at his mouth and doesn’t drink.

“Stepdad?” he says. “As in one of the dads upstairs with the shock collars and the turtlenecks?”

“No. Different category.” I set the terrible coffee down and face him. “The dads upstairs—Dennis, Gene, Ray—are the current dads. Active roster. The stepdads are the ones who used to be dads but got rotated out.”

“Rotated out.”

“Gloria’s term, not mine. Some dads leave and we never see them again⁠—”

“You mean the ones she ‘promoted to gardener’?” Holden says, using air quotes like what he’s saying makes any sense.

“Uh. Sure,” I say, taking another mouthful of coffee and instantly regretting it. “Use whatever metaphor you want.” I drop the coffee in the trash this time. “But, anyway, sometimes a dad will get demoted to stepdad. Which I always like, because it means I still get to see them. Like Hank from Hank’s Meats.”

“The guy who runs the meat processing plant?”

I nod. “Yeah. He and Mom dated, but they didn’t work out. Stepdad.”

Holden’s coffee stops halfway to his mouth. “So your stepdads are men your mother dated, broke up with, but she keeps them around because they serve some kind of purpose? Like this guy who lets you work at his hardware store?”

“I guess.” I shrug. “But I don’t know what my mom would want with a meat processing plant and a hardware store.”

Holden looks at me like I’m building IKEA furniture with my teeth. “Your mom took over from your father, didn’t she?”

A chill runs up my spine. “We don’t talk about my father, Holden.”

Holden’s mouth falls open. “But . . . But we did talk about your father—at the cabin. You told me⁠—”

I shove my fingers into my ears and hum. “La la la, I can’t hear you, la la la⁠—”

“Milo.” Holden’s voice cuts through my humming. He catches my wrists, pulling my hands away from my ears with surprising gentleness. “Stop.”

I stop. The server room hums around us, indifferent to my internal drama.

“We talked about your father at the cabin,” Holden repeats, slower this time, like he’s navigating a minefield he didn’t know existed. “Do you remember that? It was after you found your pills.”

“I’m taking my pills.”

“I know.” He takes both of my hands in his. “But I need you to answer me. Do you remember what you told me?”

“We don’t talk about my father,” I repeat, my mind throwing up a wall every time he asks. It hurts the back of my eyes, and I pull my hands free.

Holden sits back and scrubs a hand over his face. “Your brain revoked access.”

“What?” Now he’s just speaking in riddles.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just . . .” He lets out a slow sigh, and whatever process was running behind his eyes exits without saving. “Okay. So if talking about your father is off the table—what do you think your mom wants with a hardware store and a meat processing plant?”

I want to laugh, but he’s dead serious, and that’s a combination I don’t see often. “She runs a mid-sized pyramid scheme, manages a stable of polyamorous dads, and does MLMs so efficiently the whole neighborhood is terrified of her. I love her, but she’s basically a Disney villain repurposed for the suburb economy. Why?”

He doesn’t blink. “You’ve never questioned the way she does things?”

“I—” I stop. “Okay, yeah, there’s the time she forced me to help bury that crate of expired synthetic hormone supplements, but the FDA fines are stupid, and who hasn’t buried hormones in their backyard.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. I’ve seen him do that countless times, often when talking to me. “God. You ever think she’s not running an MLM, but running something bigger?”

I snort. “Like what, a suburban mafia but with more essential oils? Don’t be ridiculous.” I turn back to the screens. “Listen, I know the relationship between my mom and all my dads and stepdads is unconventional. But so is ours. And you know what, Holden? You break up with spouses. Not kids. Just because one of the dads stops sleeping with my mom, doesn’t mean they stop being my dad. So maybe my mom just wanted to make sure that I had options when it was time to join the family business.”

He stares at me again. Occasionally, staring is how you can tell Holden is running diagnostics so complex he’s about to blue screen. “You think being a Hangman fits into the family business?”