Page 65 of Origins
“I’m not hungry.” He put the milk on the kitchen island before turning back to the cabinets. “You can’t sleep.”
“But how did you…” Titus turned, mug in hand, and shot me a look that had my words trailing off at the end. And the fact that Titus was shirtless, only wearing white pajama bottoms, was not the reason why I was suddenly hesitant to answer his question. I suppose it didn’t matter how he knew. “No,” I admitted, “I can’t sleep.”
He pointed toward one of the barstools before he poured some milk into the cup and put it in the microwave. I obediently sat as I watched him. “What are you doing?”
Titus didn’t answer right away. Thirty seconds later, he slid the—now warm—milk towards me. “Drink. It’ll help you sleep.” The room was only dimly lit—he never even turned the lights on—but his cheeks held a dark tinge to them.
I glanced at the beverage before meeting his eyes. “But I’m not a cat.”
Confusion crossed his expression before he grinned. “It’s not just for cats,” he said. “People drink warm milk in order to help them fall asleep at night.”
“Oh.” I looked back at the cup and picked it up. “I never knew that.”
Titus leaned against the counter toward me, his weight resting on his crossed forearms. “So, why aren’t you able to sleep?”
“Everything with Finn…” I admitted.
“So, talk to me about what’s worrying you,” Titus urged. “Are you thinking about it in general? Or are you worried that he’ll do something against you in retaliation?”
Titus frowned before I had a chance to respond, and continued—seemingly believing in the latter option. “He won’t hurt you again,” he grounded out, his voice terse. “If I have to personally make sure of it, I will.”
“Oh.” Well that was kind of him. “I—”
“In fact, I might not even have to do it myself. That might be overkill anyway, considering,” Titus mumbled, his arms and shoulders tense.
“What should I do?” I interrupted, trying to get him on the right track.
It was the question that had been haunting my thoughts all evening. Now that I knew these things about my parents—my adoptive parents—I didn’t know if I could go back to pretending things were the way they had been. Because I had told Julian that, yes, I did believe that my father could have written a program for Finn.
The relationship made sense—on some level. I always suspected their interactions were not normal. But I had been desperate to belong, so I reasoned it away. Before Finn, I had no one. I was too backward and afraid to make friends—even after we relocated. I always had fears, even then: What if no one liked me? Were they talking about me? What if they thought I was bad or strange?
But the close interactions between them—my parents and Finn… Ever since that day I was institutionalized, something was different. My mother, who wasn’t the most welcoming person in the world, seemed happier to have adopted me. My father, who had been so quiet, would talk to Finn—my new friend—in private man-to-man conversations, even despite his younger age.
Had they been controlling me, even back then? But why?
Titus wasn’t right at all. I drank the milk, but I didn’t feel the least bit tired. “What should I do now,” I asked again. “If Finn doesn’t say anything, and my mother sends me a message tomorrow. How should I act?”
Titus frowned, deep in thought. “Do you think he’ll say something to your parents?”
I nodded affirmatively. “Eventually. He doesn’t give up, if he has a goal he is relentless. If he’s been lying to me all this time—if they’ve been doing it too…then I’m scared. What if…” My heart pounded in terror as memories flashed through my mind. “What if everyone tries to have me involuntarily committed?”
“We wouldn’t let that happen.” Titus’ unwavering stare was as steadfast as his words. For some reason, he believed in what he said without a doubt. “Damen, Miles, Julian, and I. We know the truth, and—even though he’s trying to deny it, for whatever reason—so does Finn. He also knows that you are with us now. There’s nowhere in the world that Finn or your parents could take you that the four of us wouldn’t be able to intervene.”
Nowhere in theworld—just what kind of people were these men?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dependable
“But my parents…” I tried to explain. No matter what kind of influence they had, it didn’t matter anyway. “They still have power to make decisions over me. If mental professionals don’t think I’m fit to make personal decisions…”
“Then we’ll assign you a power of attorney.” Titus shrugged, as if creating complex legal documents was no big deal.
“I would if I could.” I sighed, barely noticing as Titus reclaimed my mug. “But I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Why not?” Titus asked mildly as he filled my mug with milk again.
“Because she doesn’t have any documentation on her.” Miles suddenly joined into the conversation, startling me. He was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I had no idea how long he had been listening. Titus didn’t seem as surprised and only continued with his previous actions.
