Page 77 of X's and O's
“You were only sixteen when you joined a biker club?” I asked. “Your parents didn’t mind?”
He laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. “My parents didn’t give a fuck about me or anyone else. They were just glad to see me gone.”
I pressed my lips together. “I know a bit about shitty parents, too. Mine dumped me in foster care when I was little. Never looked back. Probably a good thing. I don’t remember them, but from what my foster parents told me, they were shitty humans.” I held up my hand, showing him the jagged, faded scar that marked my arm even now, all these years later. “This was all infected when I went into care. I was told I was bitten by a dog, which checks because I’m still deathly afraid of them, even though I don’t remember any of it. One of my earliest memories was my foster parents taking me to the doctor to get shots though. Apparently, my arm was all wrapped up in—”
“A blue bandage,” Fang said, suddenly pale and staring out the windshield like he’d seen a ghost.
I looked at him sharply. “Yeah. How did you know that?”
He swore beneath his breath. “Because I think I was the one who put it on you.”
“What?” I was starting to feel like a broken record with that word tonight.
He let out a long breath. “Is your last name Garrisen? Or at least, was it, when you went into care? And your first name is actually Violetta, right?”
A chill raced down my spine. My voice dropped to a whisper. I never told anyone my legal name was Violetta. I’d always hated it. I doubted even Toby knew. “How do you know that?”
He squinted at me and then ran a hand over his face and up into his hair. “This is fucking awkward. But I think I might be your brother.”
I shook my head. “No…I…I had older siblings but…”
He stopped on the side of the road, even though we were still ten minutes from my apartment. He leaned heavily on the steering wheel, staring out at the darkened road, seemingly lost in memories I could barely follow. “I didn’t know they put you in foster care. The day you were bitten, that was the day they kicked me out. It was my dog, so they blamed me.” He turned to stare at me as if I were a ghost. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He reached for me, then clearly thought better of it, jerking his hand back.
I was glad for it. I covered my scar with my hand. “No, it’s not your fault…I just…I don’t remember you.”
He nodded. “You were really tiny. Maybe not evenfive? I wasn’t around much. Our parents…” He sighed. “We have other siblings too, you know?”
I stared at him. “We do? Are you in contact with any of them?”
He shrugged. “No. They aren’t anyone you’d want to know.”
“Are you?” I asked him.
“I hope so.”
I didn’t know what to make of that.
“I didn’t know they put you in foster care. If I’d known, I would have come for you…”
But we both knew he couldn’t have. He’d been sixteen. Not old enough to get legal custody of a minor, even if he’d been in a good place. And a runaway, taken in by a motorcycle club, was hardly what anyone would consider an ideal living situation.
A silence settled over both of us.
The logical part of my brain argued this might all be a coincidence. That he might not even be my brother at all.
But my gut said otherwise.
“Do you believe me?” he asked eventually.
“Yes.” He knew too many details for me not to.
“Should I have not told you? I didn’t even fucking think about it. You just said that thing about your hand, and then it was like I was right back there, wrapping you up, you crying, and our parents yelling…”
I shook my head quickly. “No. It would have been weird if you hadn’t said anything.”
He nodded. “It’s weird anyway though, right?”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Maybe a bit.” I glanced at him. “Or a lot. I never even really consideredthat I had siblings. Or…” I widened my eyes at him. “Shit. I have five nieces or nephews, don’t I?”
