Page 23 of Provoked

One more box. I deserve to find something interesting. And surely in the move, they got mixed up and rearranged. Score! This one has framed photographs, some of which I vaguely remember being on display in the formal living room. The one I had no reason to linger in as a kid. I carefully unwrap them and set the photos on one of the built-in bookcases on the interior wall. It will do until I can figure out where everything goes. There’s one of my dad from college with his friends. I study it carefully. Is that kid with the bad haircut and the nerdy t-shirt Justin? Oh my God, it is!

I giggle and sit down in a chair to examine every detail. He’s gangly and awkward but with the same intelligence as now shining in his eyes. And he looks like he has no money at all.My dad and the three other guys are dressed in much more trendy styles, poor things.

It makes me realize I’ve never considered Justin’s early history, the time before he became a big fancy attorney. I think I assumed he came from a long line of equally big fancy attorneys and grew up in a penthouse, but this photo suggests otherwise.

Gradually I’m healing. But it’s a damn slow process and the need to take a nap overwhelms me after the light dinner Ingrid served. I suppose it will go faster if I don’t fight it. The healing, that is, but it’s fucking hard to lose the habits of a lifetime. If I’d stayed home with every sniffle or sore throat, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I make the slow and laborious trip to the bathroom one more time. It’s not like it’s even down the hall. It’s literally thirty-two steps from the bed. Yes, I counted. My mind isn’t broken, just my body and it needs something to do while my legs struggle that short distance.

Ingrid pops in with a thoughtful expression just after I’ve collapsed back on the bed with a groan. I bite back the smirk of amusement when she starts rifling through a drawer full of filmy nightgowns. I’m guessing here, but I think she’s looking for something more like winter flannel. She’ll roast alive if that’s her plan, but I can address that when she’s under the covers. She pulls something blue from the drawer and stands. “Justin? Where did you grow up?”

I was not expecting that one. My eyebrows fly up in astonishment. “Upstate. Why?”

“Upstate NewYork?” she clarifies.

I nod, still confused.

“What happened to your family?” she asks softly.

“Nothing. They’re still there. Sunday dinner at my parents’ place. Where we all grew up.”

Her jaw drops in astonishment. “You… why did you never say? Have you called them? Do they know you’re hurt?”

I shake my head. “Ingrid… it’s not that they wouldn’t care, but what could they do? We’re not estranged exactly, but — we have nothing in common. We never did. It was like they picked up the wrong baby from the hospital. They didn’t. I checked when I was in graduate school. Definitely their kid. But it never felt like it,” I admit with wry amusement thinking back to when I sent my DNA off with trepidation expecting it to be the beginning of a long dramatic search for my missing family. Only to be informed the one I had was the only one I was getting.

Ingrid sits down cautiously on the far side of the bed, her face worried. “So, you have brothers and sisters?”

“Five brothers, two sisters. They’re all married with kids of their own. I think it’s thirteen nieces and nephews now, but it could be more. It’s hard to keep track.”

“When was the last time you went back?”

I frown. She isn’t going to try to arrange a grand reunion, is she? “Seven — eight years ago, maybe?”

“So they come to visit you?”

I shake my head, dumbfounded. “No. They have no interest in the city. It’s the kind of town where everyone knows everyone and everyone’s business. They rehash it all at Sunday dinner. If you try to ask them directly what’s new, they’ll say there’s nothing because each and every thing has been talked over and over already. Going someplace where they don’t know all the gossip and who the check-out girl at the grocery is flirting with at church — what’s the point?”

Ingrid’s smile is small and warm. “It sounds kind of nice. But you wanted more?”

I frown. “I wanted quiet. I wanted to be able to read without having my elbow jostled. And when I got to be a teenager, I really wanted to be able to take a girl out without the entire town speculating on whether I was going to make it to first base or not.”

Ingrid gives a wince of sympathy.

“Why are you worried about that, anyway? Are you attempting to delay your bedtime, little girl?”

Her eyes flare wide in shock, and then her shoulders relax suddenly. She comes closer to peer at me with suspicion. “You have no idea what you just suggested, do you?”

I think back over my words. What else could they possibly mean? “What did you think I was implying because I can’t think of another way to interpret it? Or are you deliberately picking a fight?” I keep my tone as even and level as possible to make it clear that I’m not the one stirring up trouble.

Ingrid huffs a little and then leans over so her long blond braid brushes against my chest. “In certain circles, Justin, your words would come with the expectation that I was about to call you Daddy. I realize you’ve led a sheltered life, so you probably don’t know that. But just in case, it’s not happening.”

I gape at her in horror. Ingrid giggles so hard she wraps her arms around her stomach.

“What circles are those and why are you associating with them?” I finally ask, dumbfounded.

Ingrid just smiles in response. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be back in a minute.” And with that, she jumps up and heads into the bathroom. I stare after her, going back over my words and still coming up with nothing. Except now I’m the one feeling self-conscious.

And that feeling doesn’t dissipate when Ingrid emergeswearing a filmy blue thing, too short to be called a nightgown. And it does nothing to disguise her curves or the pale curls protecting her sweet pussy. Her eyes are still laughing at me when she pulls the covers back and slides into the bed. I frown and switch off the light. It’s early enough that it’s not completely dark. My brain is warring between the one side that wants to reinforce authority with Ingrid — remind her who’s older and wiser and the other side that’s remarking that is definitely not a smart move.

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