Page 37 of Made for Cyn

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

With a sigh, he pats my leg and I fight off a surge of shame. I’m so upset over my behavior that I stare at my lap and clench my hands into fists. I’m not the girl who disappoints her parents, and I can’t shake the tears pressing at my throat as a result.

But all that flies out the window when he slides his hand up my leg. Freezing, I stare at that hand with my heart in my throat as he gently squeezes my thigh. The motion is almost absent and he moves away while I watch his face in the moonlight, wondering if maybe I imagined it.

It’s dark in here, and I wish he had turned on the light because sitting here in the semi-dark with the only light from the street outside feels too intimate for a conversation with my step-uncle.

Sitting up slowly, I pull away slightly and wrap my arms around my middle, a tingle of awareness cascading down my spine.

“Very well. Here are the rules—home by midnight. No boys. No alcohol. And we need to know where you are. This is for your safety, Rain,” he says briskly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say, willing this conversation to be over because my skin is crawling, and I can’t pin down whether I’m imagining the tension emanating from him or not.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N-no?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” he demands.

Flinching, I say firmly, “No.”

“Okay. Are you . . . sexually active? On birth control? Do we need to set you up with a doctor?” he asks softly.

I have no idea how to answer this question, and my palms are sweaty as I stare blindly into the darkness. I’m almost glad I can’t see his face because that means he can’t see mine.

“No, Uncle John, I’m not. I don’t need birth control.”

“Okay,” he exhales, “well, we can figure out the rest later. You know we only care about you, right?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

Into the awkward silence, he says quietly, “Okay. How about a hug? You know I’m not angry with you, right?”

My heart stutters as I contemplate his request, but I’m frozen with indecision, and he makes the choice for me. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulls me in, and I lean forward stiffly, caught in what I want to do, which is to flee, and what I’ve been told my whole life is the right thing.

So, with an icy heart, I allow him to enfold me in his embrace and squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for it to be over.

“Mm,” he rumbles, his arms trembling before he lets me loose, and I stand quickly.

“Um, goodnight.” I stumble to the stairs and into my room before locking myself inside.

Did I imagine it? Or was he aroused?

Dropping on the floor beside the bed, I stare at the door until I pass out, my head pulsing to the beat of my panic.

Chapter Six

I wake with a raging headache and nausea, vowing never to drink again. In the clear light of day, I also convince myself that I imagined the sinister quality of my interaction with John.

Still, I’m appropriately wary as I descend the stairs and spy Pam sitting at the kitchen island.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says with a distracted smile.

Because Pam is a traveling nurse, she works long hours away from home, which means Iris runs rampant, or so I thought, until I was given a rundown of the rules last night.

Now I’m confused and unsure of my place here. Have I fallen into something way over my head? Did I imagine it?

Grabbing a water, I sit down across from her. “Hey.”

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