Page 46 of Mark & Don't Tell

“If you’re so sure you’re done with us, get up and walk away because I’m getting tired of begging you to see that we are, and always have been, family. Do I regret not telling Felicia to get lost the first time she hurt you? Fuck, yes. Can I go back and change that? No. All I can offer is to do better and hope you trust us.” I slap my hand to my chest. “Trust your fucking brothers.”

“So, you’d leave me too?” he asks.

That. That right fucking there. He isn’t done with us. He’s too proud to admit he was being stubborn.

“No. I’m giving you the choice to leave for good. We already told you, time and time again, that we don’t want the pack to break up. We left Felicia because you were more important than an omega who couldn’t accept our pack the way it was.”

“Linc—” Kai warns but doesn’t say anything else. He’s probably scared Vic will really leave.

Instead, Vic’s eyebrows move slightly, a subtle softening of his features. His eyes skip between me and Kai.

“What’s it going to be, Vic? Are you part of the pack or not?”

“Sí, somos familia,” he says, uncrossing his arms with a defeated sigh.

“You’re goddamn right,” I tell him with a smirk. “Now that that’s settled, how do we ask Daria for forgiveness?”

Kai and I both look to Vic for guidance, and there’s a subtle shift in his posture, as well as a certain air of smugness shimmering around him. I don’t even care. He knows her best. He needs to know we’re more than capable of deferring to him. That’s the only way this will work.

And if we’re lucky, Daria might forgive us for being asshats.

Streaks of red and black cut across the canvas. I sweep my paintbrush up, slashing sharp line after sharp line. I add touches of various colors to help balance the heaviness of the darker colors until the painting morphs from nonsensical color to something with feeling.

It’s shapeless, more abstract than I care for, but I didn’t have anything in mind when I locked myself in my studio. Stepping back, I study the work. It’s chaotic. An explosion of emotion.

I frown as the heavy bass of my favorite rock band reverberates around me.

The fight with Vic. The very real possibility of him leaving brought up some abandonment issues I’m usually capable of handling, but Vic is family. My other family—two rich parents who couldn’t be bothered to give a shit—left me alone all the time, and tonight, that old wound cracked open. As much as I knew he needed a push, and I was almost certain I was reading his body language right, when I gave him the option to walk away, part of me was worried he’d leave for good.

The door closes with an audible thud, and I glance back at Kai. He nods and walks over, stopping beside me to study the painting. Vic and Kai are the only people I’ve ever let come into my studio. They’re the only people I’ve felt comfortable enough with to share this vulnerable side.

“It’ll all work out,” Kai says, keeping his eyes on the canvas, almost like he can read the colors and know exactly what I’m feeling. “He’s not leaving.”

“We could always build a prison in the wine cellar,” I joke, hiding the pain. “He won’t be able to leave if he’s tied up.”

“Mmm. Too bad Vic hates shibari,” Kai muses.

A relieved breath whooshes out of me. He’s not going to push me to talk about it. Honestly, I’m not even sure what I’d say that I haven’t already said.

My parents never loved me, and all the years I’ve spent alone in a mansion full of things were the emptiest years of my life, and yet they’ve left me with the most baggage.

“Talk?”

Kai and his fucking perception.

“Not tonight,” I confess. He’s never been annoyed, no matter how many times my abandonment issues grab a hold of me. But that’s Kai, then, isn’t it? He might be the most understanding person I’ve ever met.

He lost his dad when he was a teenager and stepped in to help raise his younger sisters, alongside his mom. They turned out great. Wish I could say the same with Ryan. My greatest failing.

My son hates me as much as his mom does. As much as my parents do. Maybe it’s something in the bloodline. Or maybe it’s me.

“I’ll get the whiskey.” Kai squeezes my shoulder and leaves me to my darker thoughts.

In truth, I wasn’t alone in raising Ryan. Kai and Vic were as much his fathers as I am. Felicia, well, she was his mom. Our breakup hit Ryan hard, and he went with her when she left. I see him occasionally. Every interaction is laced with venom and anger. I understood the anger when he was a teenager.

His family was ripped apart.

But now that he’s pushing twenty-two, I expected him to understand the circumstances that led to the breakup. He doesn’t, though, and some of the things he says reminds me so much of the hate his mom used to spew that I can’t help wondering if she’s poisoning him against us.

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