Page 97 of Screaming

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Wade spoke up, translating for me.

My mother laughed softly, though it held discomfort. In her calls, she’d mentioned an ASL tutor, but I knew just how hard it was to become fluent. “That doesn’t surprise me. You never cared for cooking.” Her voice trailed off but then she added on quietly, “and I never really took the time to teach you, I guess.”

The regret of those words came through loud and clear and made me think about all the things we’d missed out on.

Her and my father because they were busy and me because I hadn’t understood how important and fragile family actually was. Now, however, I’d come to realize that family was imperfect, that it was frustrating at times but that there was nothing more important in the world.

We all failed miserably, all carried around wounds and snarled when others prodded them. I’d been afraid of the world, afraid of speaking up for myself…afraid of myself. Wade felt as if he were forever unwelcomed, Deacon thought he would never find others like him, Kit feared he wasn’t capable of making anyone happy, Knox hated what he was and Brax thought no one could accept him without fear. My parents had been devastated by the idea of losing their daughter and had thought it easier to believe me dead than to face the heartbreaking truth. Lilianna had grown up alone, told she was a monster. Bowen had needed to come to terms with the risk of losing others and Soshi needed to learn to trust. Even Moa and Aaron had had to travel a hard path, choosing between what was easy and what they felt was right.

We were all broken in our own ways, but sitting together like this, looking around, I finally understood.

Family wasn’t about perfection. It wasn’t about finding people who had no problems, about always doing the right thing. Instead, it was about finding people I wanted to fail with, people who supported me, who I would sacrifice and risk anything for.

And I’d found them…

I peered around the table, feeling an ease I’d never thought I’d find, a level of acceptance I didn’t think was possible.

Larkwood had tried to destroy us all, and it had left its mark on each of us. Instead of letting it win, though, instead of tearing each other apart or giving in, we had fought for ourselves and for one another.

A smile touched my lips as I stared at the others. I’d had my voice stolen by people who wanted to keep me docile, who thought they could control me, and while I’d never get what was taken back, I was finally okay with that.

I’d found something so much better. I held up my drink and tapped my nail against the glass to draw the attention of everyone at the table. The room went silent as everyone else mirrored my action.

I swallowed hard, then smiled, lifted my glass and nodded toward them all, toward the family I’d found, the one I cherished, the people who had helped me to survive the impossible and grow into who I was now.

And when they smiled back, when they accepted me with my faults and strengths alike, I knew the truth—we didn’t need words to understand exactly how we all felt.

Larkwood was different becausewewere different.

We had stood up against the system created to keep us quiet, to use us, and we’d changed it all. I’d turned Larkwood into a force for good, and if anyone dared to threaten it ever again—we’d fight together.

And there was no one else I’d rather fight beside.

Want to see more from this author? Here’s a taster for you to enjoy!

Secret Santa: To Catch a Fox

Jayce Carter

Excerpt

Jarrod

People liked to say that nothing hurt more than loss.Bullshit.Losing things happened—it was part of life. When people lost something, they could move on and start over.

The hardest thing was wanting something I couldn’t have, something I had to see but knew I’d never get.

Which meant the blonde woman walking through the parking lot toward the building I waited in made for the most painful thing in my whole damned life.

Sasha.

The fact that just her name could make my heart speed made me want to curse myself. At forty-seven, I was hardly a kid, so why did she hit me this hard? How could she make a hardened killer feel like an eight-year-old boy with his first crush?

At least I didn’t try to pull her pigtails or anything quite that stupid.

Though, was what I was doing any better, really?

Sure, I had a soreness in my shoulder from the wound, especially if I overdid it.


Tags: Jayce Carter Romance