Page 68 of The Oath We Give

“How dare you speak to me—”

“But if you say another word about Silas, if you think a negative thought about him, I’ll make sure you’re out on your ass with nothing but yoursparklingpersonality when I take my piece of Elite.” I sneer down at her as I lean forward. “Poor has a smell, and you won’t like when I leave you covered in it.”

Just thinking about sticking around to hear whatever words she tries to string together pisses me off. So I decide not to wait. I simply turn and walk toward the steps to help Lilac.

The quicker she packs her things, the better.

I don’t want to be in this house any longer than I need to be.

So for the next thirty minutes, I swallow my rage. I let it simmer beneath the surface, taking it out on violently folding clothes and shoving them into a suitcase.

Before, I’d been able to let her comments slide off my back like water. I could ignore it and move on. I’m like that with a lot of people.

It’s easier to deflect. I have more outlets and less intense emotions. I haven’t gotten tired of people walking all over me just yet. Stephen changed that, and I guess that’s something I have to thank him for.

He forged my silver tongue from the screams of agony and constructed my steel backbone from true despair.

I’m an exposed nerve.

Every brush of oxygen, distasteful remark, and backhanded compliment sent sharp, agonizing jolts of pain through me. And something inside me chewed that pain up and turned it into anger.

Being angry is easier than being sad.

Being angry is better than being the victim.

“You almost done getting your stuff from the bathroom?” I ask over my shoulder as her door opens, turning and expecting to find her with a bag full of her things but finding my father instead.

When I look at him, it’s hard to see anything but my trauma.

I can’t look back fondly on our memories anymore because now they all feel pointless. The fishing trips and late-night brownies in the kitchen. Any and all laughter we shared is faded dust.

When my father was arrested for his involvement with the Halo, he was quick to spill his guts to save his ass. Claimed that he didn’t get involved until I had gone missing. He was simply complying to get me back home safely.

He’d told the police everything they needed to know and in exchange only served six months. He spent a hundred and eight days behind bars for providing The Halo shipping containers that smuggled trafficked girls. That’s it.

All for me, he says. All to get me back.

Is it my bitterness toward men like him that makes it impossible to believe him? Or simply my gut telling me he’s a liar.

So when I look at him, all I see is a man I used to know.

We are strangers, standing in the bodies of father and daughter.

He shifts as if he’s uncomfortable standing alone in a room with me. My eyebrows furrow together, zeroing in on the white garment bag draped across his left arm.

“Regina’s comment was out of line.” He clears his throat after he says it, wanting to say more, but I interrupt, not giving him a chance to elaborate, narrowing my eyes at him instead.

“Are you coming to apologize for her? If so, you can save your breath.” I refuse to meet his gaze, turning back to fold another one of Lilac’s hoodies into a neat little square.

I can feel his presence behind me like an invisible wall, trapping me in place.

“Coraline, I…” He trails off, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “Are you happy? With Silas? Does he make you happy?”

My eyes roll so hard I’m afraid they’ll get stuck, and I shake my head at his audacity. A few weeks ago, this man had been trying to set me up with a dude who offered me blow in a bathroom.

“Why do you give a shit, James?” My voice is harsh, but it doesn’t faze him, only making him release a heavy sigh—a sound that holds all the weariness of our relationship.

He’s never been very good at handling my attitude. The worse I get, the better chance I have that he’ll just walk away, like always.