Page 145 of Meant for Mayhem

Neither of them said anything, but I couldn’t stop, not now that I’d started.

“But you aren’t teenagers anymore.” My voice cracked, and I hated it. Hated that they could still reduce me to this fragile thing when I’d spent years making sure no one could ever hurt me like this again. “You’re grown men, and you’re still punishing me for needing you back then.”

“We’re not punishing you,” Colton said. “We’re reminding you of where you came from.”

“No. You’re reminding me of what you think I owe you.”

Cash shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “After everything we did⁠—”

“There it is.” A broken laugh slipped out of me. “Every fucking time. Like keeping me alive earned you permanent access to me. Like I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life taking Dad’s calls and giving you money and letting all three of you treat me like shit because sometimes you remembered to pay the electric bill.”

“That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair.”

The words landed between us, simple and brutal.

Cash looked away first.

Colton didn’t. “Dad is alone on Christmas because of you.”

“No. Dad is alone because he spent his life hurting every person within a ten-foot radius.”

“He’s still our father.”

“And?”

Colton blinked like I’d spoken another language.

“So what?” I demanded. “What does sharing his blood entitle him to? My forgiveness? My time? Am I supposed to keep letting him hurt me so the three of you don’t have to feel bad about the consequences of his choices?”

“You don’t know what he’s been through,” Cash said.

“You’re right. Maybe I don’t. But I know exactly what he’s put me through.”

Mikko shifted behind me, close enough that his body heat pressed against my back. He didn’t interrupt, but I knew if either of them moved an inch closer, this conversation would end differently.

For once, I didn’t need him to save me. I only needed to know I wasn’t alone.

“I’m tired,” I said, my voice steadier now. “I’m tired of opening my phone and feeling like a hurt kid again. I’m tired of deleting your messages and pretending they don’t make me cry. I’m tired of waiting for either of you to love me without reminding me what it cost.”

Colton’s expression shifted, the anger slipping for half a second. “We do love you.”

“Then you’re terrible at it.”

He flinched.

Some old, deeply buried instinct told me to take it back. To soften the words. To protect him from a fraction of the pain he’d never tried to protect me from. But I couldn’t, not anymore.

“Lori never made me feel like a burden. Beckett and Emmy never asked what they’d get in return for showing up. The people inside this house don’t love me because they have to. They love me because they want to.” I looked back at Mikko, finding those ice-blue eyes already on me. “They chose me, and I choose them.”

Mikko’s hand tightened in mine, and the little motion was enough to make a sob scrape the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down.

“That’s my family,” I said. “Not because of blood, but because they make me feel safe. Because they show up. Because they don’t hurt me and call it love.”

“So that’s it?” Cash said. “You marry some rich hockey player and suddenly you’re too good for us?”

“No. I was always too good for you.”