Page 16 of Bliss: Part 2
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice small. “I’m okay. I was just…”
“You were just what?” He reached up and brushed a piece of hair from my face, his touch careful. “You know you can talk to us. Whatever it is, we’ll listen.”
“I know.” I hesitated, then sat up straighter. My hands twisted in my lap. “I don’t want to freak you out.”
Dad’s eyebrows pulled together. Odin shifted beside me, sitting up straighter too.
“What’s going on?” Odin asked, his voice calm but tense. “Did something happen?”
“No. Nothing happened.” I tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. “I’ve just…been thinking a lot. About everything.”
Neither of them said a word. They waited for me to elaborate.
“It’s, um…” I cleared my throat and took a breath. “The guys have been helping. A lot. More than I expected. More than therapy, honestly. I’m still going to see her, but it’s not the same. The guys…we’re still kissing.”
Dad gave a small nod. His jaw was tight. “We know.”
“Okay. That’s good. I wasn’t sure.” I pressed my lips together. “And I was thinking that maybe…it would help if—”
“Don’t,” Dad said sharply.
I flinched. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the air like a slap.
I turned to him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”
“I know exactly what you thought, Bliss.” He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “And I need you to listen to me right now.”
I didn’t speak and just watched him until he continued.
“This is what trauma does. It confuses everything. It makes closeness feel like a fix. And it’s not always a healthy one. When Odin and I were kids, when our dad hurt us, we did the same thing. We clung to each other. Crossed lines. Because no one else was there.”
The words hit hard, but I kept listening.
He went on. “When you told us what you’d been doing with the boys, we asked if something happened that led to it. You said no. You told us it came from love. Not pain. That’s why we didn’t interfere. But now…”
He trailed off.
Odin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He turned to look at me directly.
“Bliss, do you really understand what you’re asking for?”
“I think I do?”
Dad looked over at him, then back at me. “We can’t help you the way you think you need us to. It’s not because we don’t love you. We do. But what you’re asking us to do…it comes with so much heaviness if there’s regret after. We don’t want to cause any more damage.”
“You don’t understand,” I said quietly. “I think I need this. I needyou. All of you. It’s the only thing that makes me feel like I’m getting better. Like I’m safe. The therapist can’t give me that. She can’t hold me. Can’t make it stop hurting.”
They exchanged another long look, and the silence was getting heavy.
Then Dad spoke again. “If anything ever happens between us, it has to happen naturally. Because it feels right. Not because you think it’ll save you.”
I nodded slowly.
“We’re not saying no. But we’re not rushing into anything either. It has to come from a place of clarity. Not confusion. Not pain. Despite how…complicated it is.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice a faint whisper.
