Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
HARPER
I’m so pissed off at Dad, so I’m not exactly in the holiday mood.
When Christmas morning comes around a couple of days later, I can tell Helen really wants to make it a special day. She’s got a full face of makeup on at eight in the morning, for God’s sake, and has so much pep in her voice.
Sox is curled up on the armchair by the fire, wearing a ridiculous red and green Christmas collar with a jingle bell that Helen must’ve put on her this morning. The cat looks supremely annoyed about it, but she’s tolerating the festive humiliation.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Sox allowed out with everyone. Usually, she’s banished upstairs when Silas is around.
“I took my Zyrtec,” Silas says when he catches me looking at the cat. “She deserves to enjoy Christmas too.”
Helen beams at him like he just donated a kidney.
Even that small gesture—letting Sox be here—would’ve meant something to me a few weeks ago. Now it just feels like part of the performance.
The huge Christmas tree we all set up weeks before glitters with lights as we sit in the overstuffed couches nearby, and with the adorable cat and that damn fireplace crackling away—
It’s another scene out of a Hallmark movie.
A month ago, I was fully bought in. Helen put old homey Christmas music on a vinyl record player, and she and Dad danced around to Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree while Caleb and I laughed and threw tinsel at each other.
Now there’s just the sour pit in the bottom of my stomach, knowing this is all a lie. A lie that’s going to come not just crumbling but smashing down sooner rather than later.
“Harper,” Silas barks at me. “Helen went to the trouble of making you breakfast from scratch. The least you could do is thank her.”
I glare at him from where I’m sitting with my arms crossed on the couch beside Z, who is already halfway through his first cinnamon roll. Helen set out a tray of them on the coffee table in the center of the living room. Caleb is quick to respond for me.
“These look great, Mom.”
He reaches forward and grabs a small red plate, dishing out one roll for himself and then another for me.
“I’m so impressed with your baking. I can’t believe how good you’ve gotten.”
Helen smiles. But Caleb’s holiday pep sounds a little stiff and try-hard, even to me.
Look, I can tell I’m bringing down the vibes of the morning, but I’m sorry. I’m not going to keep playing pretend happy family when I know it’s all a farce.
Caleb tries to hand me the cinnamon roll, and my glare turns in his direction. My arm’s not moving to uncross from my chest, so he just places it on my tightly clenched thighs.
“Here,” he says in a whisper.
He takes a big bite of his and smiles toward his mom.
“Mmm. So good,” he says, with a mouthful of fresh-cooked pastry.
It does smell good, but I just keep glaring at Dad, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. I can tell he’s about to call me out for my behavior, for my bad attitude, but before he can, Helen claps her hands.
“Shall we open presents?”
“Hell yeah,” Z says, rubbing his hands together.
My glare slices in his direction. I know he’s only this enthusiastic because he scoped out the presents last night when we were all up here playing Dragon Ball Z on the big family gaming system. He got as excited as any eight-year-old when he saw his name on some of the presents.
Hell, I wish I could be too. You think I don’t want to sink into this fluffy, cinnamon roll of a morning? Fuck. It’s something out of every kid’s dream—Mom, Dad, big lit-up Christmas tree with presents stuffed underneath in glittery packages with actual bows tied around them.
The most I ever got was a squished Hostess cake Mom tossed my direction one time when she was actually sober enough to remember what day it was, back in 2009. It wasn’t exactly roasted chestnuts around a fire, if you get my drift.
But looking around, I know this is as fake as those deflated Santas on people’s lawns, a bubble just waiting to pop. I refuse to give in to the fantasy anymore, no matter how tempting—or delicious—that steaming cinnamon roll with sweet sugary frosting looks.
Caleb has just finished off his roll and is reaching for another when he glances at his mom.
“Aren’t you going to have one?”
She just waves a hand. “I snacked while I was cooking, and I want to save room for lunch.”
Caleb frowns at her, but she just pops up from the loveseat beside Silas.
“I’ll get the first present. Let’s see who it’s for.”
She adds a little singsong at the end of her sentence, like we’re all still little kids instead of seniors in high school—or, well, a senior dropout in Z’s case.
She’s been working on him, just like she worked on me, but in his case, to get his GED. There are little pamphlets all over the house for earning a GED in addition to community colleges now.
She’s got the subtlety of a backhoe.
“Harper, sweetheart,” Helen says, holding out a box wrapped like it belongs in a catalog shoot. “This one’s for you.”
I take it like it might be booby-trapped.
I’m still not used to people giving me things without expecting something in return. No strings, no trade, no threats. The wrapping paper is thick and glossy. Not like the stuff I grew up with—when there even was wrapping paper.
Or, ya know, presents.
Inside the little velvet box is a silver charm bracelet. Delicate. Beautiful. There’s a tiny dangling book charm. A little house. A star. A paintbrush.
“I thought you could add to it,” Helen says. “As you figure out who you want to be. As you build new memories.”
I don’t say anything at first. Can’t.
Because she gets it. Somehow. That I’m still in construction. Still learning how to be a girl who accepts kindness without checking for the knife.
“Helen, I...” My voice catches. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
And it is.
Not because it pretends I’ve always belonged, but because it makes space for the fact that I might belong now.
Z’s moved on to a leather jacket from Helen. He looks like a young James Dean.
Sox has abandoned her chair and is now investigating the wrapping paper carnage, batting at a ribbon and getting tangled in it. She drags a long piece of curly ribbon across the floor, prancing like she’s won a prize.
Caleb laughs—the first real laugh I’ve heard from him all morning—and reaches down to untangle her. “You’re supposed to wait for your present, Sox.”
“She has a present?” Z asks, eyebrows raised.
“Of course she does,” Helen says, like it’s obvious. “She’s family.”
She pulls out a small package and unwraps it herself—a new toy mouse and a bag of fancy cat treats.
Sox immediately loses interest in the ribbon and attacks the mouse, carrying it off to her chair like she’s killed it herself.
The whole thing is so absurdly domestic that it makes my chest hurt.
Dad’s actually reading a book Helen got him. And smiling about it.
Fucking faker.
The whole morning feels like a dream we’re all pretending isn’t a lie. Like this is a movie set, and we’re all just the actors.
I’ve been sitting on this for weeks, watching and waiting for Silas to break character. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. Him sitting here, pretending to be the All-American father on a perfect Christmas morning.
I stand up, glaring at him. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. We know, all right? We know this is all just another con. Just give it up already.”
Sox’s head pops up from her chair, ears flattening. She can sense the shift in the room. Animals always know when shit’s about to go down.
Helen gasps, and Silas puts a hand on her knee. As if he’s now the steadying presence here. It only infuriates me more.
“Get your hands off her.” I can’t help launching to my feet. “She’s a good woman, and you’re a fucking criminal! God knows what weird sex shit you’ve dragged her into while you’re stealing everything out from under her.”
That sets him off, and he’s on his feet the next second, facing off with me, the vein in his neck bulging.
Sox jumps down from the chair and slinks toward the hallway. Smart cat. Getting out while she can.
“I don’t know what you think you know, but you need to shut your mouth before you say something you regret.”
“You gonna make me, Dad?” I sneer the last word, looking him up and down. “At least you’re finally showing your true colors instead of this part you’ve been playing. I know about the sex dungeon business.”
Another gasp from Helen, and I register her standing up from the couch, but only barely, because now I’m on a roll. “I know you’ve been talking to guys from the old MC. Lonestar Devils. Ring any bells?”
His widening eyes tell me that ding, ding, ding, it sure does.
I lean in further for my final stab. “I just wanna know if you’re using the dungeon to launder money for them or traffic girls?”
“Oh God, Silas,” Helen gasps, face white as a sheet as she reaches out to grab Silas’s elbow. “I never thought they’d come after the children, too.”
“What?” But right as my head swings toward her in confusion, her whole body just… sways like the floor shifted under her.
“Mom!” Caleb leaps up beside me right as I jump forward to catch her.
But Silas is there first, catching her as she faints into his arms, her lips suddenly tinged gray.