"What are you looking at?" Savannah's voice cuts through the air, ripping me out of my trance in front of the kitchen window.

After my heart rate slows, I turn around and shoot her a scowl. "Jesus, what is up with you and sneaking up on me lately?"

My sister frowns, tugging the throw blanket that's wrapped around her shoulders closer into her body. "Why are you so jumpy?"

I sigh and spin back around to face the window. I carefully move the blinds and peek through the tiny gap they create, my entire body physically relaxing when I see that nothing is there.

It all started this morning when I woke up at 4 a.m to get a glass of water. Well, the paranoia started last night after my uncomfortable stand-off with Scott.

The stalking started today.

And I swear that's not just the paranoia talking, if the headlights staring directly into my kitchen window at the ass crack of dawn is anything to go by. I'd opted to sitting at the kitchen table, thinking that it was the neighbors across the street and deciding to wait for them to leave.

But they never did.

By the time I woke up, a crick in my neck from being slumped in the uncomfortable wooden chair for hours, the headlights were turned off, but the car was still parked there. Right across the street, staring right at my house.

The black Ford Expedition sat far enough away so that I couldn't see into the windshield. An hour later when I peeked out the window again, the car had rounded the curb and was parked horizontally, their tinted windows skewing my view from my vantage point even farther. But they were still there, watching, waiting.

After it had been sitting there all day, I no longer chalked it up to it being merely a coincidence. I was too scared to walk outside and see who it was. Too shaken up from previous sketchy encounters with my father, and then Scott. All fight had seemingly left my body. Instead, the car outside felt like a message.

One that I was hoping would be answered today, considering Mom promised her arrival this afternoon. I was eager to get her signature scrawled across the divorce papers, beyond ready to put this entire situation behind me and finally free myself from the chains of misery and complacency that my parents continuously tighten and reel in whenever they feel like it.

"Are you looking for someone?" Savannah asks, rising on her tip toes to peer over my shoulder.

I snatch the curtain closed and step forward, crossing my arms over my chest.

"No, I thought I saw.. a drug deal going down at the intersection. False alarm," I wave her off.

"Oh," She shrugs. She opens her mouth, looking like she wants to say something, but then decides against it.

My curiosity gets the best of me. "What?"

"Nothing," She bites her lip. "The way you were acting just... it reminded me of Dad, that's all."

I can't help but recoil backwards in shock. "I'm trying really hard not to be offended right now."

"Sorry," She shrugs again. "The whole peeking out of the window thing kinda threw me back in time. He was always paranoid and peeking through the blinds when he was high, ya know?"

I did know.

I couldn't help but reluctantly agree with her. I felt crazy, like my every move was being scrutinized. Kind of ironic that Dad is the reason for it, all things considering.

Savannah plops down into a chair at the table and I mirror her actions, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

"Remember when we were kids and he went on that weekend long bender?" She asks.

I smirk wryly. "Which one?"

She cracks a small smile at that. "The one where he locked himself in the bathroom, convinced that he was in a stand-off with the FBI."

I can't help but let a laugh burst free. "Oh shit, yeah. Didn't Mom have to open the door with a butter knife after he stopped responding?"

"Yeah, because he fell asleep in the bathtub with the shower rod held to his chest like a weapon. God, she was a mess that weekend. Slept outside the bathroom door and would slip saltine crackers underneath it. She was extra mean too, snapping at us when we couldn't figure out how to get the door open with an expired Blockbuster gift card," She says, staring aimlessly at the wall.

"Yeah. Felt like the only time she interacted with us was when we pissed her off because we wanted attention," I say.

Savannah laughs. "But it was always on Mark. And his attention was always on the drugs. Parents of the year, right?"

A short silence falls, the two of us lost in our thoughts. Something Austin said comes to me, his experience with his mom's opioid addiction and how he forgave her, even when she wasn't the parent he needed for a short time. And then, I realize that he forgave his father too, even if no apology had been made, or necessary given the circumstances. It leaves me wondering if I could do the same.

I blurt out, "Do you ever think you could forgive them? You know, for all the shit they did? Or.. didn't do, I guess."

Savannah ponders it over. "I guess I already have. They weren't good parents. I know that, you know that, they know that. And yeah it affected me, but what's done is done. I've made peace with that fact and know that I can move on and be fine with or without them in my life. They're the ones who will always have a guilty conscience, knowing they could have and should have done more. But that's on them."

I blink, stunned. I'd never thought of it like that. My little sister, wise beyond her years, I tell you.

And clearly more mentally stable after the lifelong trauma we both endured compared to yours truly.

"Why?" She asks. "Would you?"

I think about it. "I don't know," I conclude. "I want to. But I don't know if I can."

"Because we'll never get an apology?"

My chest actually aches at her words, throbbing painfully at the crushing realization.

"Yeah."

"Forgiveness isn't deserved just because they're our parents, Aria. And honestly? They don't deserve it. But you do, whether you believe it or not."

——

I should have known better than to believe that my mother would follow through.

Just like when I was seven and she'd promised to take me to a classmate's roller skating birthday party if I cleaned the entire house. I'd fulfilled my end of the deal, and after I had told her so when the time came to leave for the event, she suddenly decided I was grounded for "mouthing off" instead.

Or when I was ten and we missed the Academic Award Night that she swore she'd be present for, all because Dad had gotten himself into trouble again.

Or when I was fifteen and she'd failed to get all the paperwork together for me to take my permit test, after weeks of her promising that she would. I was the only person in my class who didn't have one. And a year later, I didn't have a driver's license either.

And yet every time I still held onto that tiny piece of hope that something would change, that she wouldn't let me down again like all those times before. Even though time and time again she had proven that she was not reliable and wouldn't stick to her word.

It was nearing 10 p.m. when I finally realized that she wasn't actually coming home.

On one hand, I wasn't surprised. She'd flaked on me many times before when I thought that maybe, just maybe, it would finally be the time that I could count on her.

On the other hand, I was surprised. I mean, this was Dad we were talking about. Mark "My shit is apparently made of gold" Adkins, my mom's number one favorite person in the world. The one that she'd drop everything for, no matter the time of day, as long as it was him who asked her to do so.

So where the hell was she?

Recently showered, hair down and still dripping wet onto Austin's oversized sweatshirt that I swiped, I flip my phone over in my hands with an annoyed sigh. I try not to let it, but disappointment, the same that I was familiar with as a child, fills my chest.

I'm exhausted. Tired of volleying back and forth with both of my parents, fighting for a peace of mind that neither one of them want to give me. It feels as if they want to make my life harder than it has to be.

"Work Song" by Hozier drifts from the radio that I brought into my room earlier in the day. I anxiously bite my thumb nail, staring at my phone like it's the answer to all of my problems.

And of course, that's when Austin calls.

"Good one, universe," I murmur before sighing and accepting the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, pretty girl."

The tension in my body slowly eases. I tilt my head back against the wall, closing my eyes.

"What are you up to?" He continues, his voice a low rumble.

"Getting ready for bed," I say. It's technically not a lie. "What about you? How's your dad?"

"He's doin' good, baby. Spoke to the doc today, got a better prognosis than the one from the prison infirmary. It's looking like he might have three months or less, give or take."

I swallow. "And how are you?" I ask quietly.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm doing better than I thought I would?"

I hesitate. "Probably not, no."

Austin laughs, and it makes me smile despite the situation. "Telling the truth, I promise. This weekend was... eye opening. Gained a lot of clarity, got a lot of answers. Came to terms with my situation, his situation, and I'm at peace with it."

There goes that phrase again. I mull over his words.

"I believe you," I say. And I do. Austin has undoubtedly proven his strength despite the obstacles he's faced, and his perseverance is admirable. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He sucks in a sharp breath. He says something, but a dull thud at the front door echoes down the hall, venturing into my open doorway.

I hesitate.

"You there?"

I jolt back to reality and quickly slide off my bed, my bare feet padding across the carpet as I tip-toe to the entryway. "Yeah, I.."

I forego peeking out of the window, and instead unlock the door and pull it open. The phone slips from my hands and sharply bangs against the linoleum floor, but I don't even glance down at it. My eyes are focused solely on the six foot frame that towers over me on my front porch. Austin smirks at me, his phone still pressed to his ear.

His voice is gruff when he speaks. "Can I come in?"

He barely shoves his phone into his pocket when I launch myself in his arms, tightly wrapping my legs around his hips as I burrow my face in his neck, the sweet smell of cinnamon engulfing me, wrapping around me the same way that his arms do.

He steps over the threshold, blindly closing the door. I let out a deep sigh when he chuckles and skates a warm palm up my back and over my neck, softly fisting my wet hair as he cradles my head.

"Surprise," He murmurs.

I pull back, mentally cursing myself when tears prick my eyes. He's turned me into a total sap. "I missed you," I whisper.

He grasps my chin, tilting it up. He leans in close, his breath fanning my parted lips, and says, "Told you I'd be home soon."

I reach up, arching my back as I meet his lips. A low hum sounds from the back of his throat as he devours me. Nothing Austin does is half-assed, especially his kisses. His tongue parts my lips and explores my mouth, his lips softly sipping at my own. He kisses me thoroughly, deeply, and wholly.

We pull apart and he inhales sharply. His eyes heat up as they skate down my frame, taking in his rumpled sweatshirt, sans pants, and my bare legs. "Were you waitin' for me, pretty girl?"

I honest to God whimper.

"If I say yes, will you take me to my bedroom?"

He smirks, bouncing me in his arms as he hoists me up higher on his torso. The bulge in his pants rubs against my aching center, and my body warms in response.

"That was gonna happen regardless."

And then he's on the move. When we pass by Savannah's closed bedroom door, he raises a brow in question. "She sleepin'?" He asks quietly.

"Mhm," I murmur, kissing his jaw. He enters my bedroom and closes the door, pressing me up against the back of it. "Like Real People Do" by Hozier is now floating melodiously from the radio by my bed. Austin's hand sneaks beneath my thigh to lock the door and my skin tingles when his hand meets my flesh. He rests his hand on my thigh, gripping it firmly. "She goes in at 6 tomorrow, so she turned in early."

Austin snakes his other hand underneath my sweatshirt and grips my hip. "She still sleep with earbuds in?"

I barely finish nodding when he spins and, in two short steps, throws me onto my bed. I smile when his body quickly covers mine. "Show me how much you missed me," He murmurs, pulling at the hem of my sweatshirt.

I return the action, pulling at the hem of his black henley. "Take this off first."

"Bossy as always," He murmurs playfully, but does as I request.

I sigh when colorful ink comes into view. "This one's my favorite," I whisper, trailing my index finger over the bunch of pink peonies on his shoulder.

"My mom's favorite flower," He says. "Got 'em for her every Mother's Day."

I meet his eyes with my own. "You love her."

"Yeah."

"Even when she hurt you," I say.

Austin's face softens. "Yeah, baby."

I take a deep breath. "Will you love me too?" I ask quietly, my voice wavering.

"Baby," Austin says, cupping my cheek. "It's an honor to love you. And I'll love you for as long as you fuckin' let me."

I wriggle my hips and he gets the point. In one swift motion, his sweatshirt is pulled over my head, and my panties quickly follow. I reach forward, blindly tugging at his gray sweatpants.

Austin helps me out, and soon he's moving my body across the mattress. My head hits my pillow, my hair fanning out around me. Austin grips my thighs and spreads them wide, propping them across his own.

"Tell me," I whisper.

He leans forward and kisses my lips once, twice. Trails his lips to my cheek. To my neck. Across my throat. Down my chest. Moisture builds between my legs and I cinch them around his waist, pulling him forward slightly.

Austin notches at my entrance, his flesh long, thick and pulsing against my mound. He kisses my stomach softly before bringing his mouth my ear. My body thrums in anticipation, nerves dancing in my belly. "You know I love you, Aria," He rasps as he thrusts inside me in one swift movement.

I grasp at his shoulders with my arms, my nails lightly skating down across his broad back as he sets a slow, deep tempo with his hips. Austin grabs my chin, tilting my head up towards him. He leans down, a whisper of his lips barely brushing against mine as he moves. His soft pants skate across my parted lips. "Tell me you love me," He demands quietly.

I moan, my eyes fluttering closed at the gruffness in his voice. His fingers tighten on my jaw, but not enough to hurt. "Baby," He rasps, pleading.

"I love you," I gasp, tightly gripping his hips with my thighs. "You know I love you."

Austin grunts, and with one hand on my waist and another on my upper back, he suddenly yanks me off the bed. He sits me up on his lap, my thighs spread wide across his knees. His kneeled position gives him more leverage, and I whimper as his thrusts get deeper and his pelvis rubs against the aching bud of my center.

Austin grips my hips firmly, slightly bouncing me upwards. I moan quietly, letting him use me as his personal rag doll. Every part of my body is on fire. My skin, warm and heated as the tips of my breasts brush against Austin's chest. My chest, my stomach, my thighs.

He leans back slightly and slips a hand between our slick bodies, his thumb rubbing my clit in slow, measured circles. "Tell me you know I'm not going anywhere, and I'll let you come," He commands.

I look him in the eyes, gasping as he hits a sweet spot that makes me shiver. "You're not going anywhere."

I bury my face in his throat, crying out softly as his thrusts speed up. "No matter how many times you try to push me away," He says. "No matter how scared you are. No matter the amount of baggage from either of us. I'm yours, alright? And that means I'm not fucking leaving."

And with that statement, I let go. Completely and euphorically. Austin groans softly, his body tensing as he releases. I kiss the peonies on his shoulder, closing my eyes as a multitude of emotions take over. And I let them.

Austin's hand fists my hair softly, cradling my head against his neck as my body shakes. I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders as tears leak from my eyes. He kisses my hairline, shushing me.

"I got you, pretty girl."

I know you do, I think to myself.

——

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️