Page 34 of Discord
“Okaaaay,” I said tentatively.
“You can’t change your mind about us no matter what they say to you.”
“I won’t—”
“It’s important that you understand because we need to be on the same page about this.”
I didn’t need to think. Being with Brandon was my dream come true. He had been my life-long obsession. Why would I change my mind about being with him?
However, if we were laying it all out there, then there were some non-negotiables of my own. “I don’t want to change my mind. I want you,” I insisted and watched his facial muscles relax. “But I need something from you, too.”
“What’s that?” His voice was hoarse.
“You can’t interrogate me about the bruises on my neck anymore.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
“You keep telling me that my family is too controlling. I’m trying to break free of the pattern and solve my own problems. So, you have to trust me when I tell you that the problem is fixed.”
It appeared to take Brandon immense effort to grit out, “I can’t promise that.”
I shook my head because I needed Brandon to drop this topic. Milo was already punishing himself for what happened between us. He had broken up with the love of his life and moved to a different state. Milo would protect me from anything, even himself. Message received—He loved me.I cannot and will not let Brandon think the worst of him.
“If it happens again, I’ll move out or I’ll let you decide my next move. Hell, I’ll even cut my family out of my life. But until such time, you can’t bring it up again.”
I made the promise because it was my only bargaining chip against Brandon. Nothing would make him happier than cutting off my “umbilical cord.” I was also confident there wouldn’t be a repeat offense.
A shadow crossed Brandon’s face and I knew I had hit jackpot. Brandon cared a lot more about my codependent bonds than revenge. I saw the resigned acceptance, and his lips were on mine before I could relish the small victory.
“Done,” he whispered against my lips.
Mia
Since Brandon’sreturn from California, I dwelt every day outside the lines of the meticulously drawn-out map of my life, leaving behind all the looming questions about family drama and college on the horizon.
This relationship wouldn’t end well once Raven and Milo got wind of it. Milo threatened Chris Allen for spewing a few harsh words at me. Chris was only a child at the time. It did nothing to deter Milo’s wrath. Not to mention, Brandon’s suspicious self might do something crazy like hire a private investigator to dig into my past, only to uncover years’ worth of mysterious records of my presence around his vicinity.
Regardless of the terrible possibilities, the urge to live inside the Brandon bubble was so immense that it physically ached. It was hard not to soak up in his warmth when the moment allowed for it.
While Brandon still lived with us, he was no longer happy with our previous arrangement. Ever since Raven and Reid moved home, he was adamant about decreasing my time spent in the house, insisting I spend my days at his apartment instead.
My parents were inattentive, and Raven was distracted with Reid and work. However, they’d notice if I were gone all summer, no matter my pretense of a part-time summer job. At the very least, they’d track my phone to Brandon’s place.
Not wanting to give my religious father or a fragile Raven a heart attack, I had Brandon intercept the app to throw off my location. I’d also force him to drive me home at the end of each day.
Brandon tried his best to be understanding. On most days, he succeeded. But one day, he got extra grumpy and bought my parents a new, more complicated coffee machine after I finally learned how to use the old one.
He was still a Grade-A asshole.
Suffice it to say, it decreased my interest in having breakfast at home, skipping out to Brandon’s apartment on most mornings. Brandon often worked from home, which lasted a few hours until he dragged me to the bedroom or threw me on the floor or on the sofa.
Wanting to contribute to his home office more positively than with sex, I took on a few productive roles. When Brandon complained about his CPA asking him to keep better records, I tracked his expenses and even caught a few mistakes in the process.
“Your CPA overlooked one of your charitable donations,” I announced one day.
“Did he?” Brandon glanced at me from the living room sofa. He placed his laptop on the coffee table, his warm eyes on me. “Come here.”
“It should have been a huge tax refund.”
