Page 15 of What’s Left of You (What Left #2)

“Our demons are a product of the family’s work,” Mama insists, and there’s that oblivious behavior I’m familiar with.

She always did turn a blind eye to what my father does, because it affords her the lifestyle she has.

“Porscha’s are home grown. The day she got pregnant with that girl , her life was over. ”

“Well, Mama, it's interesting that it took her sixteen years to start killing people.” But I hear it in my head, the pieces clicking together. Sixteen years later… maybe Porscha’s madness is a product of jealousy. She couldn’t find happiness as a teen, so why should her daughter?

It doesn’t completely make sense though. There were over a dozen victims before Jo. And now a half dozen since. Her hatred can’t be centered solely around her daughter with that many casualties.

I press a finger to my temple, fighting a headache. Jo told me once she remembered Alastair standing over her, that’s what’s in the reports…

“No one understands the madness inside without speaking to the person themselves,” Mama says, crossing her arms once more. “If the FBI did their job and caught Porscha, you could ask her yourself. Mental illness is hereditary, is it not? You should find out what you’re in for with Jo.”

That’s it. I tap the screen on my phone again, and if the app isn’t off fuck it.

I step into my mother’s space until there’s nowhere for her to go.

She frowns, stepping back as her eyebrows rise.

“I shall say it once more, Mama. Enough with the threats to my wife. I made my choice. You can bitch about it when I’m gone, but you have to live with it. There’s no changing that.”

“Better a wife than two lovers,” she says beneath her breath, and I just shake my head with a sigh.

She’s only slightly better than Massimo. My parents are just never going to understand the way I am. Without another word I pivot and hit the front door. It bangs open, and part of me hopes the fucking thing breaks.

“You won’t get the book back from your Papa!” Mama yells, following me outside. Jo stops speaking with Xeno when she notices us, and I can see movement in the car. “Unless you apologize-”

I spin fast enough she almost crashes into me. “There’s only one person I will grovel on my knees for forgiveness from. And it’s neither of you.”

She’s cursing again behind me, and Jo’s eyes flash as I meet her gaze. Xeno nudges Jonathan who moves out of the way, and before she can protest I’ve snatched her up off the ground and into my arms.

“Say your word and I’ll stop,” I tell her, breathing against her lips before I kiss her. I want to feel her against me, reminding me every chance she has that, come what may, I’ve made the right choice every time I choose her.

Jo is my family. And we’ll build ours together, even as we leave our pasts behind.

She gasps against my lips and I can hear Mama’s voice rising.

The door to the car opens, as I expected it to.

Sterling isn’t supposed to be here, especially without his team.

I can pretend he’s here as a friend, but if Mama starts asking questions it’s going to be an issue.

He’s here because I’m convinced I can find this book they are searching for and keep the FBI from trying to search the property.

They will uncover a lot more than a missing book, and it will cause significantly more issues that will fall on my brother’s shoulders.

Unless they absolutely have to get a warrant, I want to try and fix some of this.

“What are you two-” Sterling begins.

He’s unprepared when I turn, grasping his wrist, and tug him towards us. Jo is still pressed between myself and the car, her natural height and heels keeping her close to my lips. If she tells me to stop, I’ll stop but so far she’s staying silent.

The confusion on Sterling’s face is almost endearing. He’s still not sure what to do with the two of us, much less together like this. If the others are watching, I no longer care. I’m solely focused on how the two of them interact.

If Jo needs him, either as a placeholder or a fixture, I’ll mold him to be another extension of us.

He looks between us, and dimly I realize making a spectacle like this is probably a bad idea. Possibly immature. But I’m sick of the parental figures in my life acting like I need to feel shame for how I choose to love my wife, even as an adult.

I’m not going to love Sterling the same way Jo could. I might use him mentally, but physically he’s just another bonus for her. Someone she might learn to care for.

When their eyes meet, I don’t feel like an outsider. An instigator maybe, and I know Jo’s going to make me grovel for doing this out of the blue. But she’s distracted right now, her eyes drooping as she studies him.

I’m still close enough to hear her mutter before she leans in. “Fuck it.”

She grips his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. I can hear Mama losing her shit behind us as she stomps inside and slams the door.

Jo controls the kiss, which isn’t surprising since Sterling’s gone stiff and appears to be trying his hardest to not touch her.

I watch them for a moment, the way her tongue dances across the seam of his lips, trying to coax her way inside.

After a moment it works, and he moans as he allows her access to his mouth.

For a moment, they are lost in each other; it’s beautiful to see.

Then reality hits, and Sterling snaps backward as he looks at us with wide eyes. Jo releases his shirt and leans against me, and I finally glance away from them.

I glance towards the house and see Mama standing at the window. She holds up a Bible and I can’t help but chuckle. That’s exactly what I expected from her.

I had assumed Xeno and Jonathan would stay nearby, but it appears both of them have stepped away.

I don’t know who else saw us, but we’ve left an impression.

Sterling clears his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turns from us. “No - no . This can’t be happening.”

He’s in the car before either of us can react, and Jo leans back to meet my eyes. “Bold of you.”

“No one makes me feel bad for what I have,” I tell her, reaching out to trace her lips. “Or for what we like.”

She nods, reaching up to cup my cheek. Her eyes blaze into mine, and I know what’s going to happen the moment before it hits.

Her slap is hard, short nails raking across my cheek. It stuns me a little, but not enough to make me step back from her as she glares up at me.

“That,” she says, gently pushing me back before she moves towards the passenger door, “is for springing this on me. Next time, Husband, you let me in on the game earlier.”