Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(106)

We take seats on two wooden chairs. Facing a wall of bunks and some of the people we love most in our lives. The six people who’ve influenced us. Raised us.

Who shaped us.

And protected us.

On a top bunk bed, Uncle Ryke sits beside his wife—my Aunt Daisy, the owner of Camp Calloway and Sulli’s mom: blonde hair chopped unevenly and a long scar down her cheek. She swings her legs over the side of the bunk, and her bright eyes flit to Ryke’s darkened ones.

He looks pissed. But I don’t know…that’s his usual expression.

Below him, on the ground, my mom rests on a black trunk. Plastic baggie of trail mix on her lap, she shovels a handful in her mouth. Nervous. She’s nervous.

My mom tugs at my dad’s crew-neck shirt. Like she wants him to sit, too. He shakes his head, leaning against the post of another bunk bed. Arms crossed.

Eyes daggered.

I look to Jane’s parents. Uncle Connor and Aunt Rose stand all-powerful. Side-by-side, hand-in-hand, armored for battle like a king and queen.

Only, I can’t tell who they prepare to fight. I glance at each of them again. About how they positioned two chairs for us to face them.

Is this an interrogation?

“I’m glad all of you are here,” I say, giving them the benefit of the doubt. “We should talk about how to deal with the article.” I pause when they remain quiet.

My mom shoots her sister Rose a cagey look. Jesus.

Ryke is staring hard at my hand in Jane’s—Jane shakes her hand out of mine. What.

I whip my head to each of them. Not able to glare at all six fast enough. “It’s false. Christ, I shouldn’t even have to say that.”

Connor takes the reins. “We just have some questions.” Jane’s dad is the voice of reason. He’ll be the first one to understand. Everyone else is dramatic—but still, how the fuck could they believe this, even for a second?

Or maybe they don’t believe it.

Maybe their doubt is just my paranoia leaking into common sense. They’re family. They’d never combat us.

Jane straightens, her chair creaking. “What kind of questions?”

“Nous avons besoin d'explications, mon coeur.” We need explanations, my heart.

“No French,” my dad tells him.

Rose speaks, voice icy. “We all need to be on the same page. We can’t let this divide us.” Her piercing yellow-green eyes drill holes into pretty much everyone. Even her husband.

“That’s what we want,” I say, my shoulders squared. I’m ready to resolve this and move on.

“Good.” Connor nods. “Let’s start with the night the cats escaped. Why were you in your underwear?”

Why the fuck would that need clarification? “We were playing a drinking game.”

Jane adds, “Sober participants had to strip instead of take a sip.”

“And we were using your rules.” My gaze swings up to Uncle Ryke.

Ryke rocks back like I sucker-punched him. “My rules? No fucking way. You can thank Cobalt for that one.”

I grimace at Uncle Connor. “You came up with the stripping rule?” He’s the polished one—and he drinks. I always thought it had to be either my dad or Ryke.

“We’re one question in and this is already being derailed,” he says, “and yes, I did. Back to that same night—”

“Hallow Friends Eve,” Lily clarifies.

“Such a cute name,” her little sister Daisy smiles.

“You’re only saying that because your daughter coined it,” Rose rebuts.

Daisy mock gasps.

Connor ignores the sisters, and he asks me point-blank, “Why did you have bite marks?”

My mom’s eyes dart to Jane. I start shaking my head. No. She can’t actually believe that Jane is the one who bit me. Aunt Daisy eyes us both. So does Aunt Rose.

I blink slowly like my world is starting to spin, and I’m gripping hard to hang on.

My dad’s jaw sharpens with each passing beat. New uncomfortable tension vacuums the air from the cabin. I sense the shift again.

I sense the unease.

I crack my knuckles, my back achingly straight. “How much do you guys not believe us?” Pressure packs on my chest. “You’re not just asking these questions for publicists. You’re asking for yourselves, aren’t you?”

Jane’s hand returns to mine, and our fingers intertwine. They’re all watching with suspicion.

It knives my ribcage.

“Before we make a decision, we need to hear your side of things,” my dad tells me.

I disentangle my fingers from Jane. Not able to sit any longer, I stand as tall as my dad. Glowering. “You honestly believe I could be having sex with Jane?”

“I don’t know what to think, Moffy.” His eyes flash hot. “It’s incest, for Christ’s sake. That’s not something you’d come to me and talk about!”

“I’m your son.” I motion angrily at him. “You know me. You know me better than most people ever will. How could you even think…” My words stick to the back of my raw throat. He doesn’t even look sympathetic.

He’s still on guard like I’m straight up lying to his face.

I want to scream at the top of my goddamn lungs, I’m not fucking Jane! But I can’t even unleash the words. The wind is knocked out of my chest. Stunned in the face of their doubt.