Stepbrother Inked(54)

"I heard you, Florian," River mumbled, running her long, pale fingers  down her face. She looked seconds away from throwing up. "Obviously,  you're both adults and I can't stop you from doing anything." She took a  deep breath. "And of course, I don't approve." She held up a hand  before Flor could butt in. "I understand that you're not related, son. I  get that. This might not be incest, but we're still a family. How could   …  how could you even let it get this far?" Flor looked away, shame  flickering across his face.

"It was my fault," I blurted, drawing River's attention back to me. "I  wouldn't let it go. Flor tried." I licked my lower lip. "Trust me, he  really tried, but I  …  I couldn't let him just move on with his life  without telling him. And then I did, and things  …  got more complicated  from there. I know what we're asking when we say we're together. We're  asking you to forget everything you ever thought you knew about family  and how things are supposed to work." I took a deep breath. I knew I was  climbing precariously close to the cheesy, preachy end of story speech  that accompanied most TV dramas, but I couldn't help myself. Those  people, with all of their drama, had nothing on me. It was like I was  standing knee-deep in a telenovela or something. "Just like you fought  to make a family out of Flor and me and my dad, maybe we can fight to  make something beautiful." I refused to look at Flor while I was  talking. Either he'd be laughing at me or  …  worse. Maybe he'd be gazing  at me with tenderness? I shivered. I mean, I wanted him to look at me  that way, but it was hard to take in. "Family isn't what it used to be.  Arrangements that nobody thought were okay before are okay now.  Beautiful now, perfect even." I twisted my hands together. I knew I  could make some comparisons to interracial couples or gay couples or  something, but I didn't want to beg off the struggles of others. Flor  was my stepbrother, yes, and in some circles, that made him my brother,  but to me, he wasn't, and that was all that should rightfully matter.

I bounced on my toes and looked at anything and everything but Flor and  River's faces. Just when I thought I was going to die from the awkward  silence and the sick churning in my belly, the front door opened.                       
       
           



       

Fuck.

My throat went dry and my head swam as I struggled not to pass out.

"Hey Dad," I said, swallowing hard and forcing my fingers into my pockets. It was the only way to keep them still.

"Abigail," he said, pausing in the entrance to the dining room. As  always, his eyes immediately strayed to Flor, taking in his tight jeans  and T-shirt, tattoos and piercings, with the usual amount of scorn and  disapproval. If he'd actually liked Flor, I wasn't sure if the whole  situation would be easier or twice as difficult. I mean, obviously my  dad wouldn't want me to be with someone he disliked as much as he did  Flor, but at the same time, maybe I was lucky that he didn't consider  Flor the son he never had. "What's all this about?" he tucked his keys  into his pocket and made his way over to River for a kiss. "Is  everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," River said, and for a split second I had hope that  maybe she wouldn't tell him, that we could keep this to ourselves for a  while. I should've known better. River and my dad shared everything.  They were that perfect fairytale couple that everyone wanted to be. The  last thing I wanted was to ruin what they had between them. "Physically  speaking," she adding, causing my dad to raise one thin brow. He sat  down in the chair opposite her and took her hands in his. Based on his  actions, I was guessing he had no idea what was going on. Maybe he just  thought Flor and me were here to be witnesses to whatever River had to  say? At that point, I truly believed he had no idea that this whole  family meeting revolved around the two of us.

"Art," River began, sucking in a deep breath and looking between Flor and me. "Maybe you two should take a seat before I begin?"

"Stop trying to turn this into a therapy session," Flor growled. "We're not your fucking clients."

"Don't you dare speak to your mother like that, not in my house," my  father rumbled back, intimidating even with his balding head and white  button down. Flor just rolled his eyes and came around the table to  stand beside me, my father's back to us. Unfortunately River refused to  let us have this conversation without the accompanying awkward eye  contact, and made my dad turn his chair so that the four of us created a  semi-circle at the edge of the table.

"It'll be okay," Flor whispered, leaning in close enough so that only I could hear. "I promise."

"I left work for this," Art said, looking at my stepmom and not at us. I  was glad; he kept his voice far more pleasant when he was talking to  her. "I hope this is as important as you say it is."

"Of course, honey," River said, looking back up at me and Flor. "I  learned something today that involves our children." Her words cut  across the sudden silence like weapons as my dad slowly turned his gaze  over to us. "What I discovered is  …  " She took another deep breath and  reconsidered her words. I knew Flor was continuously frustrated at his  mother and her psychology degree, that he hated being treated like a  client, but this time, I was grateful for it. It looked like she was  trying to take the 'empathy, congruence, and unconditional positive  regard' that was at the basis of her therapy sessions and bring it here.  Flor might be pissed, but River's tendency to adapt to stressful  situations like this might actually be to our benefit. "You know how  Jacqueline called me this morning and asked me to stop by?" Jacqueline  was the owner of the shoe shop beneath my apartment, part of the  building that my stepmom owned outright. Ugh. Things could get bad  quick.

My dad nodded and River continued while I stood there like a person  awaiting an oncoming train. I could see it coming, knew how bad it would  hurt, knew that it would most likely kill me, and yet I couldn't move.

"Well, I did," River said and then laid her fingers on my father's  forearm. "And while I was there, I thought I'd stop by and pay Abi a  visit."

Flor reached out suddenly and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. My father noticed and frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Okay?" he prompted, his voice low and much gruffer than usual.

"I'm going to tell you my observations and then I'm going to let the  kids explain. I think we should try our best not to judge." We all knew  that was wishful thinking. My dad was pure logic and hard facts and  judging was something he did best. Having your two kids, even if they  weren't related by blood, get together in any sort of capacity was not  ideal.

I closed my eyes.

"I found them kissing in the stairwell."

River exhaled like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Kissing?" My dad didn't sound angry yet, more like he was confused. "Kissing who?"                       
       
           



       

"Each other. Art, Abigail and Florian are  …  they claim to be in love."

Silence.

"Art?" River's voice sounded worried. Not good. Still, my eyes felt like  they were glued shut. I couldn't force them open. And then, the sound  of a chair being scraped across the floor.

"You son of a bitch!"

My father's yell jolted me awake. That, and the sudden absence of Flor's  warm fingers wrapped around mine as he stumbled away from my dad and  backed towards the kitchen, hands held up and palms forward placatingly.  My dad moved after him while River tried her best to intervene.

"Art, please!" she shouted, grabbing onto his arm as he took a swing at  Flor and hit him right in the face. Blood streamed from my stepbrother's  split lip and dripped onto the black fabric of his T-shirt. "Don't you  dare hit my son again!"

I should've done something, but I couldn't. My family is falling apart. I did this.

"I should've thrown you out of the house a long time ago," my dad  snarled, looking like a monster even in his glasses and his perfect  slacks. "What have you done to my daughter?"

"I haven't done shit!" Flor screamed back at him and I felt the air heat  with long suppressed rage and anger and resentment. It stirred the air  between the two of them, turned a tempest right there over the dining  room table. "She loves me Art. I love her. If you'd open your eyes for  two seconds to see that, if you let her be herself instead of judging  her all the time, maybe you'd have figured that shit out by now."