Chapter 32 Aurora #2
They’re happy. Regardless of where each photograph was taken, the four of them were happy. Their smiles reached their eyes, unlike my parents’.
Jealousy churns my stomach. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.
My body tenses the more photos we go through.
They’re all gone. Must be. And all that’s left of Everett is a sad, bitter man.
Nevertheless, I’m jealous.
Hugs? A show of attention? An ounce of warmth? I’d had none of those.
Until Everett snatched me away. This awful, ruthless man is my source of happiness.
A mirthless laugh bursts out of me. It’s choked and wet with my pathetic sob.
He pauses, his body a large cocoon around mine. His hands rub my forearms.
My monster presses his lips to my shoulder. Foolishly, I relax against him.
As if reading my mind, he says, “Those days, at the Clarkes’, they’re over. Your life won’t be perfect. I’m not a perfect man. But I’ll try for you. I’ll do everything to be a better husband. A good father to our children. You have my word.”
“It scares me.” I slam my eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Believing anything you say. To have hope. I want to believe it, but I’m scared.”
“None of that matters.” One final squeeze, and his hands flip through the pages again. “What matters is that you’re giving us a chance. That you’re willing to hear me out.”
More photos. More picture-perfect moments.
After I’ve collected myself, I’m able to study them. To take a really good look at the girl.
Then it hits me. I was right about our similarities.
Everett is the one who’s wrong.
Something about her, about all of her, reminds me of me.
Goddammit, you’re just like her. Just like your mother.
Your. Mother.
What if Winston wasn’t lying?
When Everett reaches a page with just photos of him and her, I suck in a breath.
“This, Aurora—”
Anxiety claws at my throat.
“—this was—”
I blink furiously. The shape of her lips. The small chin. The tooth that’s hardly noticeable to anyone but me.
My God.
Everett says, “My sister,” and at the same time, I blurt out, “My mother.”
My heart slams to a stop.
The most terrible fucking news settles into my bones. The cramps in my stomach aren’t hinting at pain anymore.
They stab me from the inside.
If his sister and my mom are the same person…
Then…
I’m his niece?
We’re blood-related?
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
The man I love can’t be my uncle. This can’t be happening.
“What did you just say?” Both his arms wrap around my stomach now. Protecting me.
How is he still touching me?
How am I still here?
This is incest.
This is wrong.
I should be running far away.
Somehow, I manage to look over my shoulder. Meet his eyes. There are questions in them. Shock. Horror.
“Winston.” My voice is barely over a whisper. I have so many questions of my own.
But I belong to Everett, and I have to obey him, and that means answering his questions too.
Well, I belonged to him until now. Until—
Is he really my uncle?
Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it down. My palms are sweaty in my lap.
“Talk to me.” He wants me to elaborate. He’ll make it better if I do.
He always does.
Can he make this better, though?
I want him to.
“Remember what Winston told me?” I ask. The look he’s giving me sends ice up my spine. “Just like her, he told me. Just like my mother. You were wrong Everett. I am her daughter.”
Everett doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t show a sign of life.
I’m not even sure he’s breathing.
I’m not sure I do either. I’m nothing and no one, reduced to being a trembling woman between her husband’s thighs.
My uncle’s thighs.
One palm on my cheek, he draws me closer to him.
I’m unable to resist his warmth. Can’t tear myself from him, can’t end this kiss that’s comforting and wonderful.
Incest.
The sensible thing to do would be to get up.
It wouldn’t be to open my lips for him, to let him swipe his tongue over mine.
Oh. My. God.
Both cramps and nausea attack me violently. I’m this close to doubling over. I might black out. I might expel my dinner. I don’t know.
And that’s the actual problem here.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything.
I pull back, missing his mouth on mine.
Sick.
“Your sister.” Breathing burns my throat. “My mom was your sister.”
“You can’t be sure it’s her.” Everett’s brow lowers, his lips pinching. “Besides, maybe he was talking about Molly?”
“I—” I’m about to say I don’t know. Except I do. He wasn’t. I already established that. To the outside world, Molly appears to be perfect.
This girl, however, her face and mine, there’s no denying it.
I’ve been staring at my reflection in the mirror for twenty-two years.
I know.
His grip on me loosens. I use that to my advantage, scrambling out of his lap. The album nearly slides out of my fingers. I hold on tighter. Not letting go.
My knuckles whiten with how hard I’m gripping onto the damn thing.
“Look at her.” I open the album to a random page, shoving the photos in his face. Tears run down my cheeks like rivers. “Look at her, then look at me.”
“Aurora, even if you were her daughter—”
Even if I were, then what? Then he’d keep fucking me. Then we’d have babies born of incest.
Then the best thing that’s ever happened to me would be wrong and dirty.
“No.” I cling to the album. To my maybe-mother’s photos.
“Listen to me—”
I spin on my heel, sprinting toward his garage. “No!”
“Stop.” He walks behind me, each heavy footfall a threat. He’ll get me.
He can’t do that. He has to stop. Has to realize that this is for the best. For us, for him.
I’m going to fix this.
As much as it hurts. As crushing as it is to my soul, to my psyche.
I’m going to fix everything.
Starting now.