Page 29 of The Truths We Burn

“I can’t do this right now. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” My palms dig into the dining table as I push myself back, and vomit sits in my throat.

I almost fall when I stand up, my legs shaking beneath me, but I’m not staying here. I’mnotstaying here.

This can’t be happening right now. Had I played this part so well that I landed myself in this position? There’s an entire year of school left—this isn’t supposed to happen this early.

I would have been able to say no without a problem at graduation, but I can’t right now. Why would I?Everyone thinks we are obsessed with each other—shouldn’t I be happy?

My heels drown out the noise of chairs moving and raised voices, all except Stephen’s, who puts the bullet in my coffin.

“You better figure this out, Frank. We had a deal. Let’s not forget, you need this more than I do.”

My hands pull at the front door, and I’m thankful I drove myself here this evening. The fresh air almost feels worse. I’m desperate to resurface from this, but it seems everyone is intent on holding me beneath the water.

“Sage, stop.” My father’s voice makes me do just that, like he’s grabbing the back of my neck and holding me there to die.

I spin, the gravel of the driveway crunching beneath me. “You blindsided me with this!” I accuse. “Mom, I wouldn’t have been shocked, but you? You’ve always been honest with me.”

My relationship with my dad isn’t one to write home about. We talk about his work and school. We aren’t the picture of a father-daughter relationship, but like I said, he never lied to me.

Not once.

He’s always been brutally honest about everything.

“We’re broke,” he says, running a hand through his gray hair before dragging it down his face in frustration. “Broke. We have nothing.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “And that has something to do with my engagement at the ripe age of eighteen?”

“We have no money, Sage!” he shouts before realizing there are still people inside who could be listening and takes it down a notch. “Nothing left. The only reason we’re able to pay our mortgage is because of Stephen. He has been financing me for years as mayor. But now? This is money we are using to survive. He agreed to continue the funding as long as your and Easton’s relationship ended in a marriage.”

“What? Why? That doesn’t even make sense. Easton wouldn’t be short on relationships if I said no.”

“Stephen knows what Easton needs, and that’s you. He wants him to be with someone…” He draws it out, trying to find the words.

“Someone he thinks he can control,” I finish, shaking my head in disbelief.

“No, it’s not—”

“How long ago did you make this deal?” I interrupt.

I was the one who drew the short end of this stick. Every single person inside that house knew about this and left me out in the fucking dead of winter, butt naked.

They had done this behind my back, taking my control away from me.

When he doesn’t answer, I say it louder. “How long!”

“Four—four years ago. Your mother and I thought it was God’s will that you two ended up dating, that this would be no issue, Sage! You’re young and in love—what’s wrong with being engaged, with getting married when you’re in love?”

I stare at his eyes, at the same blue that swirled around my own irises, and can’t believe I was created from someone like this. That those two people had been what made me. That even I, as young as I am, know I would never do this to my own children.

That this, no matter how they spin it or dress it up, is another wrongdoing they have done to me.

“What’s wrong with you!” I shout. “I deserve a choice! What if Easton hit me? What if I don’t want to be married? If I don’t love him? You’d still make me marry him, wouldn’t you?”

Tears stream down my face, and I can feel mascara dripping down my cheeks. Everything is falling apart, and the worst part is it doesn’t matter to them.

My father stands there, looking at me with not an ounce of regret or pain or hurt. Just frustration and anxiety that I’m not telling him what he wants to hear.

That I’m not playing the part anymore.

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