Page 96 of The Oath We Give

My eyes shut as I fall into the feeling of his hands pressing into my stomach, forcing our bodies together. He doesn’t let me doubt, refuses to let me think too long, knowing if I did, I’d pull away, force distance between us to protect the both of us from the wrath of a broken connection.

Falling is fun until you hit the ground.

When one of you is left with brittle bones and the other is dead.

A throat clears from behind us, and my face burns. I’m positive I’m the color of a fire hydrant. I slip to the side, away from Silas’s hold, seeing his parents snickering from the entryway.

“Oh my God,” I mutter at the same time Silas says, “Can we help you?” His jaw is taut, the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“Oh, don’t be so uptight. Your father and I were young once.” Zoe wraps her arm around Scott’s, pulling him into her side. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you lovebirds, but we wanted to run something by you before we headed out. Your father has an early morning.”

Code for “he has chemotherapy,” I’m sure.

“Your father and I were talking.” She glances at her husband, biting the inside of her cheek. “We know you’re legally married, and we are so happy for you two. I just would like to see my oldest baby walk down the aisle. With everything going on, I—”

She pauses, emotion heavy in her throat as she places a hand over her mouth.

“I’d like to die knowing I got to see at least one of my sons get married,” Scott says for her, shoulders square as he so casually speaks about dying like it’s something he’s already prepared himself for. Despite the chemo, he isn’t praying for a miracle; he’s just submitted to his fate. I’m not sure what is more painful, holding out for hope or accepting death so soon.

“Dad.” Silas clears his throat. “Coraline and I—”

“We’d love that.”

The words come from a place of sadness, of guilt. The last thing I need or want right now is to have a wedding, but these people, this family, they deserve something good.

His mother and father have no clue why we did this. All they know is their son appears to be happy. I don’t want to take that away from them, not yet.

“Really?” Zoe’s eyes light up. “Oh my gosh, this is fantastic! I thought I was going to have to pull out the waterworks.”

“The cancer card comes in handy,” Scott jokes lightly, a matching smile on his face.

I step into Silas, curling an arm around his waist. I know this wasn’t something we’d planned or talked about, but I can’t refuse his parents. Not like this. Not when I know I’m simply taking advantage of their kindness, spinning a pretty web of lies while their son and I work to corrupt the system.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Zoe says, walking further into the kitchen toward me before she runs her palm up and down my arm, soothing, comforting, like a mother would. “I was blessed with three rambunctious boys, but I’ve secretly been waiting on a daughter. I would love more than anything to plan this wedding for you two, with your guidance, of course. We could get to know each other more because I’d really love to do that with you, Coraline.”

It hurt to know I’d never had the chance to feel accepted like this by my own mother, experienced the unconditional love between a child and parent.

I think it hurts more knowing I’m lying to her.

“Of course, Zoe,” I say.

“Fantastic! Let’s get lunch next week to go over some details?”

I nod, agreeing just before she envelops me in a hug. The smell of vanilla hits my nose, and I realize that’s the sweet note in Silas’s scent. Vanilla, like his mother, carrying her love with him wherever he goes.

When she pulls away from me, I take a breath. Scott smiles at his wife fondly, like she holds the sun. Silas slides a protective arm around my waist, and Levi joins, asking about the pie.

For a brief moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if this were my family. Who would I have become if the hands meant to raise me had nurtured my spirit instead of made me hate it? If kind words were given freely and not with an acidic aftertaste?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, my eyebrows furrow together.

“Who is it?” Silas asks next to me, as if he noticed my shoulders tense.

“My landlord.” I feel a chill run along my spine.

“Hello?” I ask hesitantly, pressing the phone to my ear as I step away from the group.

“Miss Whittaker, it’s Ian from your apartment building,” he starts. “I’m sorry to call you so randomly, but security on the premises just informed us that your apartment has been broken into.”