Page 83 of Bliss: Part 1
It was quiet again after that. But everything around us didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt safe.
We finally let everything out, and for now, I wanted to leave it at that.
Twenty-Five
Bliss
It had been three days since the talk. Three days since we let everything crack open and poured out all our emotions and secrets. And somehow, we managed to go on about our days without breaking. Everything still felt relatively normal.
After everything Dad and Odin told us, neither asked to explain what exactly happened between us. They didn’t push. There wasn’t even a hint of pressure. They didn’t ask if it went “too far” or if we ever felt weird about it, or if we still did it. They just…let it sit.
They gave us space, and maybe that’s why everything felt okay.
Maybe they figured we weren’t ready to talk about that part. Or maybe they weren’t ready to hear it. Either way, I appreciated it. We all needed a little room to just exist, without dissecting everything.
But even with the silence, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About everything. About what Dad and Odin went through. About the things they did back then. About the way they justified it, and how much sense it actually made once they explained it. And then, about whatwedid. Me and the boys. How it started. Why it started. Why it felt so good.
I kept turning it all over in my head.
They had trauma. A reason. Pain that spilled over and made them reach for each other.
But us? We didn’t have anything like that. We weren’t abused. We didn’t grow up in chaos. We had a good home, a good life. We had love. And still, one day, we crossed a line. No big lead-up, no traumatic trigger. Just one moment, and then another, and suddenly it wasn’t just kisses anymore. It wasn’t just touch. It wasmore, and it kept going.
For a while, I told myself maybe we were just bored. Maybe we got too close because we were curious. But that didn’t feel like the full truth either. It wasn’t about boredom. It was never careless. It meant something. We cared about each other. Maybe too much, maybe in ways we weren’t supposed to. But it wasn’t casual.
Still, I wondered if there was really something wrong with me for wanting it.
But the boys didn’t seem to dwell on it. Or if they did, they didn’t let it show. And that helped. Because if they weren’t crumbling over it, maybe I didn’t need to either.
Tonight, they wanted to do something normal and fun. The carnival was in town. Some traveling circus had set up near the lake by the town center, and even though it wasn’t something that happened often around here, the whole place had come alive.
It felt nice, honestly.
There was a mix of sweet and greasy food coming from food trucks lining the street leading up to the large circus tent. Fried dough, kettle corn, hot dogs, cotton candy…it all blended together in the best way possible.
I’ve always hated crowds, but tonight, with the boys around me, it didn’t bother me so much. Their presence helped with my social anxiety. Dash walked right next to me, his arm brushing mine every few steps. He hadn’t left my side much since the talk, and I liked that. He didn’t say much, but his quiet support made a difference. It kept me from overthinking everything.
He caught me watching him and gave me a soft smile.
“You see something you want to eat?” he asked, leaning in closer.
Odin had given us some money before we left, strictly for food, not for games or souvenirs, and we were all on board with that. Food always came first.
I looked around at the stands, squinting against the bright, blinking lights. “I don’t know. Everything smells amazing, but I can’t decide.”
Dash nodded. “Maybe we grab a few different things and split it all. That way we don’t miss out.”
I smiled a little. “That sounds perfect.”
I leaned against him for a second as we kept walking toward the big striped tent in the center of the fairgrounds. The thing was massive. Red and white and a little worn from weather, but still impressive.
Tripp slowed his step and moved to my other side. “Remember when we saw a circus show once?”
I glanced up at him, confused. “We did?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Dad took us when we were kids. You were probably four.”
That explained why it didn’t ring a bell. I didn’t remember much from when I was that little. Most of what I remembered from childhood were random, happy moments. No chaos, no big traumas. Just little pieces of joy stitched together by routine. And that was thanks to Dad.
