Page 78 of Bliss: Part 1
Odin sat on the edge of the bed in his hoodie and sweatpants, his fingers playing with the strings on his hoodie like he used to when he was younger. His face was pale, his eyes red, but the swelling in his cheek had gone down some. His nose had stopped bleeding hours ago.
“What if the cops don’t take him away?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.
“They will,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “They don’t have a choice.”
“But...what if they don’t?” He turned to me, and I could see the panic creeping back into his face.
I got up from the armchair I’d been sitting in and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside him. I didn’t say anything at first. I just wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against me. He shifted without hesitation, resting his head on my shoulder, breathing deep like he was trying to slow his heart down. I leaned back against the headboard and held him there, rubbing his back.
“Then we don’t go back,” I said after a while. “We find a place. Something small. Doesn’t have to be much. Just somewhere with a lock on the door and no one yelling at us every time we breathe wrong. I’ve got some money saved. It’s enough to get us started.”
Odin didn’t answer right away, but I felt his hand reach for mine. I took it and brought it to my chest.
“We’ll keep each other safe,” I said, more firmly this time. “That’s all we’ve ever done. That’s all we need to do now.”
“Promise?”
I turned toward him and let go of his hand to cup his face. I used my thumb to wipe under his eye, and when he looked up at me, I held his gaze.
“I promise,” I said. “I promise you that no matter what happens next, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right beside you. And I won’t let him near you again. You won’t ever have to be scared of him again.”
Odin nodded slowly, swallowing hard. His shoulders dropped just slightly, like the weight of what I’d said had hit him somewhere deep. He leaned in, and when he kissed me, I let it happen. I kissed him back and pulled him a little tighter against me.
We didn’t talk about this part of us. Not often. Not out loud. But it was there, and it always had been. It started after one of Dad’s worst nights, when we were both younger, and we’d hidden in the laundry room while glass shattered upstairs. He couldn’t stop shaking, and I couldn’t stop holding him. At some point, that closeness turned into something else. Something more. And while we both knew it wasn’t normal, it was the only thing that ever made the fear go away.
It wasn’t about sex and getting ourselves off. Not really. It was about survival. It was about having one place where we didn’t feel alone.
Now that Dad was out of the picture, I didn’t know what this meant for us. If we’d still need it. If it would fade with time. I didn’t know if we were going to be okay.
But I knew this: we were safe for now. We were together. And whatever happened next, we’d figure it out side by side.
I broke the kiss and pressed one on his forehead and held him until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. I could feel him drifting off. His head was still on my chest, and I didn’t move.
We both needed rest.
***
present day
“You sure that’s what she said?” Odin asked.
“Yes,” I said, running my hands through my hair, pacing in front of the bed. I couldn’t stand still. I couldn’t sit down. I could barely think straight. “She said it like she meant it. She wasn’t confused. Not scared. She was honest. I never thought we’d be in this position. I never thought it could happen.”
Odin sat up fully now, rubbing the back of his head. I had woken him minutes earlier with the news, barely giving him time to adjust. He looked tired and disoriented, but I needed him alert. I needed him with me in this.
“You’re sure she wasn’t sleepwalking? Delirious? Dreaming?” he asked.
“God, no.” I turned toward him quickly. “She was wide awake. Fully in control of her words. She knew exactly what she was saying. And I didn’t even have to push for it. She came right out with it. Rhys and Dash were standing there looking guilty and ashamed. And now I can’t stop thinking…how the hell did we miss this? How could we be so goddamn blind?”
Odin exhaled hard through his nose, shaking his head. “We weren’t blind. Come on, Owen. Don’t go there. We couldn’t have known.”
I stopped pacing and stared at him. “Yes, we could’ve. We should have. We should’ve fucking known that our mess, our history, our choices would echo into their lives somehow. We should’ve been smarter. We should’ve gotten help back when we had the chance. We should’ve gone to therapy. Real therapy. Not just ignoring it and moving forward like nothing happened.”
“Stop.” Odin’s voice cut in sharp. His tone changed, suddenly harder. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t do that to me either. You know damn well that what we went through wasn’t normal. It was survival, Owen. You and me, and what we had, it was how we stayed sane. It’s how we got through. There was nothingwrongwith us back then. We needed each other, and we needed each otherthat way. That’s the truth, and you know it.”
I turned away, because part of me didn’t want to hear that. Part of me didn’t want to agree, even though I did. “Then explain to me,” I said quietly, “why our kids are doing the same thing. We never laid a hand on them. Never hurt them. Never screamed in their faces or hit them or made them afraid to breathe in their own home. We broke the cycle, didn’t we? That was the whole goddamn point. So how does this happen?”
Odin didn’t answer right away. He ran both hands through his hair and stared down at the floor like the answer might be hiding in the carpet. He looked lost, and I hated seeing that.
