Page 46 of Beautifully Messy
“Syd, sit down and act like a mother.”
The words are quiet but laced with a sharpness that cuts through the evening air. I pull back, but his fingers dig deeper. Ivy lingers farther down the deck, back turned—too far to hear or unwilling to face what’s unfolding behind her—while everyone else’s attention zeroes in on his hand gripping my wrist. Something dark passes over James’s face. Concern, yes, but also something primal, making him look ready to strike.
My pulse pounds in my ears, shame flooding my cheeks. I force a smile, brittle and defiant, and yank my hand free. I spin back and let the music reclaim me.
Tom pulls Mason aside. From their hushed, heated exchange, it’s clear Tom isn’t backing down.
“Fuck him.” Jules forces me to look at her.
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I blink them back. All he sees is me dancing, my smile wide and brazen. My body moves to the beat, a performance of boldness I don’t truly feel. Until at last I hear him walk inside and slam the door, and I can breathe again.
With Mason’s departure, the air shifts. Jules switches to a new song as Tom and James join. They twirl us around, taking turns with dips and spins. Easy and light. James keeps his distance, spinning Jules and Ivy while Tom takes my hand.
He wraps an arm around me. “I’ve been biting my tongue for too long. He might be Jules’s brother, but you deserve much better.”
“You’re a good man, Tom. Thank you for loving Jules as you do.”
“We’re not as rare as you think.” His eyes sweep over my shoulder to James, spinning Jules until she’s doubled over with laughter. I follow his gaze and swallow hard.
“I think it’s time I head upstairs.”
“Hold up, Syd. Want me to walk upstairs with you?”
“I’ll be fine.” I squeeze his hand as Jules clicks off the music.
We stand in an awkward circle, and I keep my eyes fixed on my feet.
“Should we put on a movie?” Ivy suggests filling the silence.
“Not tonight, Ives.” Jules cuts her off. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”
“Did I miss something?” Ivy’s voice softens, as if she’s only now realizing the tension.
“No, it’s nothing. Goodnight.” I slip away before anyone can respond.
Relief washes over me as I enter our empty room. I press the door closed, unable to shake his grip on my wrist, the sharpness of his words. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I breathe through the sting in my nose.
Is this what I want Anna to see?
A man grabbing you when he disapproves of how you’re acting? Directing your body like it belongs to him? I imagine Anna years from now, letting someone treat her this way because she grew up thinking it was normal. The thought makes me physically ill.
I wipe away my tears and draw in a shaky breath, letting my mind go where it shouldn’t.
To a man who offers something else entirely.
A world where James is beside me. Where I lean into his touch instead of pulling away. Nights swaying together in the dark, our bodies moving in quiet harmony. Mornings wrapped in blankets and books, Anna between us. The scent of coffee and his cologne mingling as he makes breakfast while I feed her.
But that's false hope, gone in the blink of an eye.
One man touched my elbow so softly it ached; another grabbed my wrist hard enough to leave faint red marks. Try as I might, neither sensation fades. I wrap my arms around my ribs, absorbing the pain the only way I know—curling inward, willing it down into the abyss where it won't hurt as much.
Fourteen
“AuntSyd,comelookat the pile of presents Santa left for us!” Beck squeals.
The boys dive into presents. Another Christmas morning, and the world keeps moving.
The deck and my wrist are now just memories pressing on the edges of my sanity this morning. The numbness I crave, the way I survived my parents, won’t come. Instead, my mind frays, my body a tangle of nerves. Mason never came to our room last night, the only bright note. Jules and Tom keep a measured eye on me. James stands off to the side, gaze flicking to my wrist, lips set in a stern line.
