Soft || 18+ Reverse Harem ||

17 - Strong

"What is his name?" she asked.

I thought about it. "Hedeon."

"Hedeon," she repeated. "Evan is pretty broken up about this."

I looked at the news. Some Republican was being a bitch. I'd rather talk to him than my mom. I wondered if Dad was going to be home anytime soon. Even though it was the middle of the day, he liked to pop up for lunch with Mom. Maybe she had invited me for lunch so that she and Dad could yell at me together.

"Evan, in case you and he have forgotten, is married. I'm the one who should be broken up, not him."

She sighed. "From what he told me." She crossed her legs. She was wearing a suit, looking professional as hell. She took off her glasses and set them down with her knitting needles and whatever it was that she was knitting. "Hedeon doesn't seem to look like a man I can allow you to be with."

"Twenty-two, Mom, that's my age in case you have forgotten."

"We just wish to protect you. He has scars on his neck, Evan told me. And a lot of tattoos. Honey, he just cares about you, and so do I."

I stared at her. "He cares about me?"

"Well." She shrugged. "He is a dick and an asshole. But he doesn't want you to be in harm's way. And from what he told me-"

"How about you ask me how Hedeon is like rather than ask everyone but me? I don't care about Evan's opinion, and after what he did to me, you shouldn't either. Ask me, Mom. I'll tell you."

"Will you?" She asked. "You have been cagy since Evan broke your heart. I don't want to push you."

"So you will trust that traitor's judgment?"

She paused and then sighed. "You are right. I shouldn't trust him."

Dad entered the living room and stopped short seeing me. I hadn't seen him since he forced me to sign my uncle's house away. His features hardened but then he forced a smile on his face. "Dahlia. How are you?"

I stood and let him hug me. "Fine, Dad. How is work?"

"Just fine."He patted my head. "You are staying for lunch, aren't you?"

"I...I have a bit of work at the sh-"

"You are staying for lunch, Dahlia. Your mother has missed you." His smile hardened. "Yes?"

"Yes."

. . .

"I'd like to meet him."

"We aren't even together." I stabbed my spaghetti. "I will bring him when there is a relationship. If there is a relationship."

Dad didn't look pleased. He opened his mouth as if about to push more. But my mom kept a hand on his shoulder. He sighed and nodded, serving me more without asking. I was pretty hungry so I didn't protest.

"Have you talked to your sister?"

"Not in days," I answered my mom. I handn't talked to her since she called the day Dad sold the house. I was mad at her. I knew she was a complete daddy's girl, but she could, for once, understand me. But expecting empathy from Emily was something you'd always be disappointed by. "How is she?"

"She is settling in," Mom answered. "Her classes are going well. She is giving auditions. She can have her first role any day now."

"Good for her," I muttered.

"She deserves it," Dad said. "She worked hard for it. She worked hard to get into NYU, too."

I had gotten into Yale and every school I applied to. Before I decided to throw it away, of course. Seeing my dad proud of Emily for getting into NYU was weird, but I wasn't surprised. Emily was not an academic person. And I couldn't lie, I was proud of her, too. Her health had always meddled with her studies. She had tried hard in high school to get better grades.

"If you had gone to Yale," Dad began. I braced myself. "You and Emily would have been in New York together right now, and your mother and I wouldn't be this worried about her. She can get sick anyday, Dahlia. You should apply again."

It didn't matter that Yale wasn't in New York. It was close. They would have made me check up on Emily almost everyday. Keeping up with Yale and checking on Emily everytime she sneezed would have drove me insane.

I ran a hand over my face. It was bare of any makeup. My family was, ironically, the only people I could have a face without makeup. It didn't make sense. "Dad."

"I am just saying. I am not pressuring you."

"And you never do," I mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

I stared at him. "Are you going to sit here and pretend you were not the worst to me the last time I was here, Dad?" I asked. "You forced me to sell my uncle's house. Forced, Dad."

His jaw twitched. "It was mine."

My jaw trembled. I swallowed through the tightening of my throat. "It wasn't. He loved me. He never loved you. It was his, and then it was mine. and now it belongs to some strangers. If it had been yours, you wouldn't have sold it. You wouldn't have betrayed your brother. But I guess Uncle knew you'd sell it the first chance you got, so he gave it to me."

"And you sold it anyway," Dad said. "Perhaps you aren't as strong as your uncle believed you were."

I took in a deep breath, his words digging into my heart. Perhaps you aren't as strong as your uncle believed you were.

Why did he have to be right? Why did he have to be so fucking right all the damned time? I couldn't breathe.

I stood and walked away.

"Dahlia!"

"Let her go, darling. How about something sweet?"

Mom didn't follow me.

. . .