Page 80 of Stand Your Ground

“No, it’s not,” I clipped. “And I’m not. I just like teaching him. I like being in control. I like making him beg. I like testing his boundaries and helping him see his potential. Shall I go on with the things I like, or would you like to keep a somewhat safe for work image of our dear Carter?”

Maven chuckled, and then she was sweeping me into a hug.

“Fine. We can drop it. But just know I’m here if anything changes. And for what it’s worth… I think you two would be great together.”

“We’re certainly great together when sex toys are involved.”

“Oh, my God, Liv.”

We both laughed, but before Maven could drag me back out to the seats, my phone buzzed in my clutch.

When I saw who was calling, all the joy left my body in an instant.

“Damn it, Maven, are you like a smoke signal for my mother? Every time I’m with you, she decides to call.”

“Maybe it’s the universe knowing we’re meant to handle the tough shit together,” she said, nodding toward the phone. “Go on. Answer it.”

I rolled my eyes but did as she said.

“Hello, Mother,” I greeted, holding the phone to my ear. Maven stayed close, her hand on my arm in assurance that she was there.

“Livia,” Mom answered, her voice already laced with that familiar blend of clipped formality and thinly veiled irritation. “I’m calling because your sister’s wedding is twelve weeks away, and I still don’t have your RSVP. She’s asked me repeatedly if you’ll be there, and quite frankly, your indecision is inconsiderate.”

“I’ve told herandyou, I’m working on figuring it out—”

“Well, figure faster. This is her wedding, not some last-minute cocktail party you can waltz into when it suits you. Honestly, I think we’d all be better off if you just decided now.” A pause. “Though, between you and me, it might be… less complicated if you stayed away.”

I closed my eyes, jaw tightening. “Is that so?”

A faint, airy laugh — the kind she used when pretending something wasn’t cruel. “Well, darling, you’ve been so… withdrawn these last few years. People might not know what to say to you anymore. And showing up alone, as you so often do… it’s just bound to make things awkward. You’ve pushed everyone away, and now…” She let out a sigh. “Now, you’re alone.”

Alone.

The word echoed between my ears. She knew what she was doing — she always knew. It was her favorite move, pressing that exact spot she’d left black and blue years ago, as if to remind me she could. Alone wasn’t just a description when it came from her mouth; it was an accusation, a verdict, a label she’d sewn into the lining of my skin so tight I’d never be able to rip it out.

It was the word she wielded every time she wanted to shrink me back into the girl she thought I should be — compliant, apologetic, small enough to fit inside her perfect little world. It wasn’t about my relationship status. It was about control. About punishment.

And still, my chest tightened like she’d reached right through the phone and put her thumb on the bruise she’d left, pressing down until I could feel the ache in my bones.

My pulse roared in my ears. “I didn’t push my family away,” I said, each word deliberate, clipped. “My family walked out on me when I refused to stay silent about one of your friends raping me.”

The word hung there, jagged and heavy, like a giant boulder suspended over us by nothing more than a thread. The threat of it crushing me was always there. I wondered if my mother felt it, too, or if she was able to easily forget, if having me out of sight had put it all out of mind for her.

For a heartbeat, I thought she might acknowledge it.

And then I heard my father’s voice.

“Darling, who is it? Who’s on the phone?”

My heart cracked open like an egg, all the despair I’d locked away leaking out like a sticky yolk. Maven squeezed where she held me, and I held my eyes open wide so none of the tears I felt stinging my nose would fall.

Mom’s voice breezed back in, cool and unaffected. She ignored my father. She ignored me. “Anyway, let me know by the end of the week so we can finalize the seating chart.”

The line went dead, and so did my hope.

I stared at the phone for a moment, my throat tight, every nerve in my body buzzing. I felt like a little girl again, craving love and understanding and pride from my mother, wishing on a deceased star for my father to act like the superhero he used to emulate when we’d play and save me.

But as usual, I was empty-handed in all of those areas.