Page 67 of My Family

I walk straight over. I know I can't make a scene—not in a room full of residents, not with guards at the door, not with my name on a leader badge—but knowing that and actually controlling myself are two different things, and right now I am not controlling myself at all. My hands are shaking. I can feel my jaw tightening.

I pull Reed's arm off Liam's shoulder.

Not gently.

They both turn at once. Neither of them noticed me come in, and the surprise on Liam's face would almost be funny if I weren't so far gone.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" Reed says, irritated, already squaring up the way he does, that reflex he has of filling every room with his body.

"With me. Now," I say to Liam. Not Reed. I don't look at Reed again, even though I can feel him there, even though every instinct is telling me to deal with him first.

He's not the problem.

"Oh, look! Daddy's back until the next time he disappears," Reed says, pouring gasoline on it, and I hear the satisfaction in his voice.

That bastard.

Liam stands up, and the look he gives me is pure fire. He doesn't look guilty. He looks furious, and something about that only makes everything worse, because it means he's been waiting to be furious. He's been storing it up.

We walk out in silence. He's ahead of me, steps hard and deliberate, and I follow. Neither of us says anything until we're in my office with the door closed.

He turns around immediately and faces me. He's so much shorter than me—a fact that has never once stopped him from squaring up as if he forgets it entirely—and right now his chin is up and his arms are crossed and his blue eyes are blazing.

He isn't afraid of me. He never has been, and he shouldn't be, because I would never hurt him no matter how angry I got, no matter what I said or felt. I know that absolutely. And I still admire it, the way he'll plant his feet and face me like this, this boy who flinches at loud noises sometimes, who curls small when he's scared.

He doesn't flinch now.

"So you came back to reclaim your property? Until the next time you decide to disappear."

"Shut up," I say, irritated. "You know I was with my brother."

I reach for him, not to hurt him, just to hold him, to feel him solid under my hands and remind myself he's actually here and he's still mine.

But the last time I did that he couldn't pull free, and this time he comes prepared. He shoves me hard, both hands flat on my chest, before I can get close.

I stumble back a couple of steps. The back of my knee catches the edge of the desk and I catch myself. I'm not thinking straight anymore. I haven't been thinking straight since I walked into that cafeteria and saw Reed's arm around his shoulders, and something in me just refuses to let this go.

I grab his arm and pull him back toward me.

He fights. He's not strong enough to actually break free when I don't want him to, and we both know it, but he fights anyway, twisting his wrist in my grip, shoving at my forearm, his breath coming fast and angry.

"Let go of me."

I do.

Immediately. My hand drops away like I've been burned.

For a second neither of us moves.

I stare at him, at the red mark my fingers left on his arm, and something cold cuts straight through the anger.

What the fuck am I doing?

The rational version of myself would be disgusted by this one. I am disgusted. But underneath all the anger there's something else entirely.

I'm terrified.

I'm terrified that five days away was enough time for the thing I've always been afraid of to happen. That he got tired of waiting. That Reed was just there and I wasn't and that's how simple it is, how simple it's always been.