Chapter 9 - Naomi #3
“What? I just want to be involved in my big sis’s life!”
That was wholly untrue. But I’d learned not to call them out on such things. I extended my hand, patiently waiting for him to return my property.
“You could always try asking me,” I murmured. That was the thing about being surrounded by shifters—there was really no level of quiet I could be where they wouldn’t immediately be up in my business if they wanted to be.
It was one of the things I hated the most about our bi-weekly family dinner. If I could, I would avoid them entirely, but I’d unfortunately learned that caused even more drama than just suffering through one meal with my relatives.
It wasn’t that I hated them or anything, and they didn’t hate me, but that didn’t mean they weren’t really annoying to be around.
Between the constant jokes and quips at my expense, the assurances that maybe someday I’d get a wolf, and the backhanded comments, there wasn’t a lot to like.
Especially since each one of my siblings used to believe that they were part of a secretly filmed comedy special at all times.
“Ooh, what’s this? A date? Since when do you date?”
The color drained from my face as my other two brothers’ heads perked up. The idea of me having a romantic life was enough to distract them from their heated debate about basketball.
“What, the great Otto-Roboto is on the market?” The eldest, Maverick, chuckled. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“For exactly this reason,” I said, sighing and rolling my eyes like they were only inconveniencing me, and my heart wasn’t beating a million miles per hour. Unfortunately, all they needed to do was take a moment to listen deeper and they’d pick up on my total panic.
I was a grown woman, yes, and could date whoever I wanted, but was it so wrong to want something that was just for me? Was it so wrong that I didn’t want it to be picked apart by my family, and then be teased about it relentlessly?
“Wait, I don’t recognize this guy. He some shifter from out of town?”
“It’s probably an internet relationship,” my youngest brother, Mason, said. “You know, long distance.”
“I highly doubt a long-distance relationship would be asking for a date at some Korean place,” Reggie shot back, letting me know he was knee deep in my messages. I told myself it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it felt… violating in a way.
“It’s soul food, not Seoul food,” I snapped, snatching my food back while he was distracted.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Chill, Otto. It’s not that deep.”
“I told you not to call me that!”
Shit.
I’d fucked up.
I knew better than anyone else not to let my brothers see any sort of chink in my armor. Now that I’d lost my temper and showed them that they’d managed to affect me, it was like a drop of blood in the water, and they were all sharks instead of wolves.
“Dude, chill,” Mason huffed before returning to his phone.
“Aww, come on, Otto, what’s got your britches in a bunch?
” my father asked, finally looking up from the farmer’s almanac his eyes had been glued to.
I really didn’t understand the point of these family dinners when more than half of us disassociated with some form of media.
I guess it was just an old habit rather than anything we actually wanted to do.
“Let’s not rehash this tired argument,” my mother said with a heavy sigh, like I was the issue. “Noms doesn’t like that nickname.”
And I didn’t like that either!
It wasn’t that I was very particular about things, I just didn’t like any “pet” names that were actual insults.
Otto could be quirky, maybe even funny if it wasn’t based on mocking me for not having an inner wolf.
Otto was short for automatic, and my brothers had started calling me automatic once we all found out that I couldn’t shift.
And as for Noms, that was something a group of bullies in the pack used to call me because I supposedly ate way too much at lunch for someone without an inner wolf.
And naturally it was short for Om Nom Nom.
“My name is Naomi,” I said, bottling my anger back up inside my skin. Even so, I couldn’t stop the poison dripping from every icy word. But maybe it was okay to let my tongue be the dagger it could be when I lost my cool. “You gave it to me. Use it.”
For the first time in years, everyone at the table stopped and looked at me in various states of shock. There was quiet unknown to the Bracken household, silence so loud it filled up all the spaces between the aged walls.
But I didn’t let myself crumble under the weight of their stares. Instead, I simply took another bite of the food I could hardly taste. “The beans are lovely, by the way,” I lied through my teeth.
Slowly, the rest of my family returned to their own tasks, and my irritation gave way to an unusual feeling of victory. Maybe I could benefit from being a little less passive with my jokester family.
Something to think about.
With my phone back in hand, I texted Rowan back.
Me: I’d love to!
I learned my lesson, however, and didn’t let my gaze linger on the screen.
With my brothers subdued, I could focus on the pride in my chest. Rowan had pretty much entirely stopped wearing his wig and makeup while we were together.
Sure, people stared sometimes, but I glared daggers at anyone who let their gaze settle for too long.
Ever since he had shown me the real him, Rowan had never tried to hide himself again.
It was too bad I couldn’t say the same thing about myself.