Page 51 of Fractured

For their acceptance or their condemnation.

Seconds slid by, and with each one, my fear ratcheted higher and higher.

Oh shit. This was a bad idea. How could I expect them to just be okay with a mother who—

“Lilith, relax.” Kenzo stood and approached me with his palms up. Then he took my hand and brought me back to the loveseat where he tugged me down onto his lap. I fell awkwardly, still reeling from his desire to touch me.

I felt tainted, but he didn’t seem to think so at all.

“This is tough. And standing over there all by yourself, creating an island, is not going to help you. So I’ve taken it upon myself to see to your comfort.” He winked. “Now you may continue.”

I blinked. Then blinked again. Each man was looking at me with none of the disgust I’d expected. Or imagined them to feel seconds ago.

“You guys don’t have any questions? Comments?” I was absolutely baffled.

Saint shook his head and draped his arm over the back of the couch. “We all have fucked-up people in our family. I’d be a dick to judge you for yours.”

My hopes took a nose dive as my stomach twist in tight ugly knots. “But this isn’t a case of a family black sheep. What I’m telling you is mental illness runs so deep in my family, I can’t guarantee it will skip me.”

This time, Atticus, who was sitting next to me, cupped my neck and stroked my cheek with his thumb. The movement was mesmerizing and so damn sweet, my eyes fluttered shut.

“I know what you’re saying, Lilith. As someone who has to see a psychologist regularly, I understand exactly what you’re saying. You view your mother as a monster.” I started to interrupt, but he pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh, shh. I can see the horror in your eyes when you talk about her. You see her as a monster. But what I think you don’t see is that so many people failed her in her life. If someone had gotten her help, maybe committed her for her own well-being, that day never would have happened. She’s sick. Not evil. And you aren’t either.”

I was utterly speechless.

My whole world shrunk to this one moment and the words he’d just spoken. They resonated with something deep inside me, shaking the foundation I’d created my entire life around.

I did think my mother was evil. Because she was.

Had I thought I was evil too?

The more his words tumbled through my head, the more I thought that yeah, I had thought there was some grain of evilness inside me. And I had no desire to bring anyone else down with me.

Saint leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “You aren’t your mother. And we’re not going anywhere because of something that hasn’t even happened and may never. If it does, you’ll have the support your mother never had.”

Not one to be left out, Ambrose crouched next to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. “We won’t let you be your mother.”

I’d never imagined myself to be gullible. I was pragmatic. A realist. With a heaping dose of pessimism. Still, I happily gobbled up every ounce of assurance they were giving me.

If only I could trust it.

Because I couldn’t trust myself.

Thirteen

Is this the eye of my own storm? - September 20th

By the timeI climbed out of bed Sunday morning, it could barely be called morning. I’d slept a solid twelve hours last night, and I felt it over every inch of my body. Especially my head.

I was groggy, disoriented, and for a few blissful minutes, I’d forgotten the entirety of the past week. All I knew was I had a gloriously hard, warm body underneath me and one pressed up against my back.

One arm was trapped between me and Kenzo, so I used my free hand to clear the sleep away from my eyes. The sun was far too high in the sky, and my room was roasting. But I was so comfortable, I couldn’t bear to move.

Atticus hummed happily into my hair as he scooted closer, grinding his morning erection right into my butt. “How are you feeling?” His voice was rough and incredibly sexy after just waking up. It also had the power to make me remember.

Drake.

Randolf.

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