Page 45 of Yard Sale

“I don’t,” Oliver snapped. I heard him shuffle around, and then he asked, “We don’t have to, like, catch up or whatever, right?”

I dropped my hands to my thighs and laughed. “No, kid. We don’t. And I’m going to make some calls tomorrow so I can get myself a separate place to stay.” Pushing up to my feet, I stretched my back. “And right now, if you’re cool with it, I’m going to take a shower.”

Oliver grunted, so I took that as a yes and grabbed my smaller case, heading for the bathroom door. Just before I slipped inside, I heard him make a noise, and I froze.

“Sorry to be a dick.” His voice was flat, so I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere, but he was also a teenager, so I wasn’t going to hold that against him.

I turned to face him. “It’s not your fault. I would have been pissed off too.”

He was quiet again, and then he sighed. “My mom’s not going to like it if you leave. She thinks we should get to know each other.”

“Well, your mom’s not my boss, so she can kiss my ass. You’re nearly an adult. You deserve your own space.”

“Thanks,” he said very softly.

I smiled at him, then stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I kept the light off. The darkness was comforting, and I’d been practicing bathroom routines with my eyes shut for the last couple of years, so I wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

I wanted to sit with my feelings and only my feelings.

I assumed tonight I’d be able to crawl into bed, put my hand on my dick, and relive the moment on the ferry with Aravind. Instead, I’d stepped into hell, and now I was determined never to let my family talk me into anything like this ever again.

CHAPTER 12

TIAGO

Standing in the hallway, I could hear voices. My brother, one of my sisters-in-law, and my mom. They were near the back door, and I could smell smoke from what I assumed was a bonfire.

And they were talking about me.

“…never going to get married. I never worried too much about grandkids when it came to Tiago anyway.”

“Imagine if they inherited that shit,” Sarah said.

Peter laughed. “That’s all we need. A bunch of blind kids stumbling around the house. Everything would be covered in braille.”

I wanted to jump out like, Aha, you ableist fucks! But my feet were stuck. I was still slightly damp from my shower and just looking for a fucking cup of tea. I knew my family talked shit about me, but it always sucked to hear it.

“Has he ever brought someone home?” Peter asked.

“No,” my mom said. “He was dating a very nice-looking girl. I saw her on Facebook, but the last time I checked, they’d broken up.”

“At least it’s not a guy,” Peter said.

“I thought he liked both—” Sarah started.

“Oh, let’s not worry about that,” my mom said in her most simpering voice. “But I doubt anyone’s going to want to take on that kind of burden, you know? You can’t be a full wife if you’re also a caregiver. No one wants that life.”

My stomach twisted into knots, and I took several breaths as their voices began to fade. This wasn’t the first time I’d overheard my mom lamenting about how unmarriable I was. Like I was some sort of fucking Victorian leper with bones showing through my skin.

Crisse, I needed out of there. I needed to nut up and call the rental agency that always hooked me up in the offseason and make them find me a place where I didn’t need to listen to this every time I walked into a room.

But for now, tea. I moved into the kitchen when I was sure I was alone, and my hand skimmed the wall until it found the switch. Light flooded the room, and while it didn’t do much for me, it did something.

I turned my head from left to right, regretting that I didn’t have my phone with me. The counter was covered in random items, and most of them blended into the black marble.

This was hell on Earth. Literally. I made a mental note to tell the rental agent to make sure the place they found for me was bright with high-contrast counters. Anne wasn’t wrong about it being difficult to find a place, but she also didn’t understand what money could buy.

And that at least gave me power in this place that wanted to make me feel like I had none. My fingers itched to go find my phone and make the call now. They’d forgive me for the late-night demands if I paid them enough.