“Dad...” I lick my lips and swallow, clenching my hands neatly in my lap, staring at the madman across the kitchen table. “Before you say anything, I need you to know this was never meant to be malicious. I don't know what she's been telling you, but –“

“Cut the shit.” His hand moves through the air like a knife, and I'm instantly silenced. “Evie didn't have to say anything. I saw it all, the way you were tangled with him, defiling our home. Jesus Christ, Cordelia.”

Dad's face softens, but only because he's so disgusted. He can barely bring himself to say it. I watch him spread his hands on our big table, and they're shaking, overwhelmed by the memory of what he saw on the screen.

My eyes burn when I look at him. I cross my arms, angry, vowing that I won't apologize. I don't care how hard he hits me with those puppy dog eyes.

“I'm trying to understand,” dad says softly, running another clammy hand across his face. “What the hell drove you to this? You're a beautiful college girl in your prime, honey. You could've had any boy on campus. Why Chris? He's strong, he's ballsy, and I get that. But I also know he's a complete bastard, and he can't be any better with his women.”

Dad's anger matches mine. I can't help but soften because he's hurt, thinking Chris really did shred my honor or something ridiculous. I don't blame him, but he doesn't get it.

“We're in love, dad.” The words just fall out.

Am I really trying to explain my love affair with my badass stepbrother to my own father?

Yes. Yes, I am.

“Love.” He repeats it, sounding so neutral, giving me a shred of hope. “Goddammit. Evie was right. Look, Cordelia, I don't know what he's done to you or what kinds of thoughts he's put in your head. She told me he has a way of doing that.”

There goes that hope.

“What!?” Dad tries to reach for my hand, and I push him away, jerking back in the chair. “It isn't like that at all, dad! I'm not some stupid little girl who decided to throw my panties at the first handsome jerk who gave me the time of day.”

Okay, maybe that isn't quite true. But what I feel for Chris deep inside is real, and I shouldn't have to explain it, or make any apologies.

“We love each other. We really do. We were coming out at the party, the night Evie sent you those pics. Sure, we got carried away, and it happened way more messy than we meant. We planned to sit you down when you came home, tell you all about us.”

His face goes pale. I watch him slick back his hair again, looking like some middle aged broker who's just watched his favorite investment plummet on the ticker.

“I'm worried about you, honey. For real. I think you need some help.”

His last sentence reaches through my chest and strangles my heart. That's it. I've had my fill. I can't sit here a second longer and listen to this slimy, sympathetic crap – especially when I know it's her twisting him.

Evie's going to ruin everything if she has a chance.

“I'm not crazy. There's only one person in this house who still needs help, and I wish you could see it.”

Dad's brow furrows. “If you're talking about my wife, frankly, she's turned out to be the sanest all this time. I only wish she'd brought this thing between you and Chris to my attention sooner. I would've stopped it before it became a bigger problem.”

“Stopped it? Like, you think you get to control who I choose to love?”

It's dad's turn to get up. He steps toward me, trying to twist his face into a mask of concern, but I only see anger. Shame. Bitter disgust.

“You don't love him, Cordelia. That's bullshit. You're not going to wreck your life with some kid who's too busy chasing skirt when he isn't getting shot at. There's about a month left of summer. Before you head back to campus, he's going to be out of your system, one way or another. I don't care how much in therapy fees I've got to throw at it.”

Therapy fees? He wants to force me to go to a fucking shrink?

Something inside me snaps. I'm channeling Chris when my hand shoots up and my middle finger pops out. Dad stares on in shock, his mouth hanging open, too stunned to say anything else.

“Fuck you, dad. This is my choice. Not yours. I only decided to sit down and talk about it as a courtesy. I thought we were both adults.” I pause and sigh, readying the final blow. “When Chris gets back, we're taking off together. I'll move in with him while I'm waiting for the proposal. If you settle down and get over yourself by then, maybe I'll send you an invitation to the wedding.”

I stop right there. He's not the only one who's paralyzed. I'm seething, too angry to do anything else except march past him and towards the stairs, heading for my room.

I'm up on the second floor before I hear him running after me. “Delia! I didn't excuse you. We're not done talking about this yet!”

Yes, we are. I keep going, straight to my room, and slam the door behind me.

He doesn't have the balls to come after me. The wicked contrast with my father's weakness makes me think about Chris, and it hurts.

I can't stand it. I wonder where he is, what he's doing, if he's still alive. He wouldn't come out and say it, but I know he's on a dangerous mission. And it's a special kind of hell when I need him more than ever.

I'm so confused. So alone. So trapped, caught between this screwed up family and the last man on earth I ever expected to care so fucking much about.

There's no denying it, though, especially when he's on my mind every waking second, the whole reason I'm fighting with my dad like never before. The only person on earth who ever loved me and pursued me like a lion is thousands of miles away, doing God knows what, and I need him more than ever.

I'm not a religious girl, but I stare out my window and pray that night. I ask whatever gods or forces of nature are out there to protect him, bring him back to me, mend our hearts.

I can't lose him now. And I'll never let another human being tear him away from me either.

* * *

The next couple days are a blur. I throw myself into my work, finishing up my seventy page research draft in a matter of hours.

It's a good thing too, because the professor is hounding me again. But this time it's because he likes the synopsis, and he's eager to see if the rest of it lives up to his high expectations.

I make myself scarce. I hear Bruce and Evie talking in the hallways, muttering about me, adding their voices to this sick, dark cloud that's descended over our house.

As far as I'm concerned, it's all in their own damned heads.

All my worries are focused on Chris, Chris, and only Chris. I haven't heard a thing for several days. I keep watching the news, eyeing the Middle East and Asia especially, two hotspots that are always ready to blow.

I'm worried. I wonder if he's in some desert hellhole, alone and dying of thirst, or if he's gotten himself locked up in some third world prison.

Will he ever be the same if he comes home with a broken body, mind, or spirit? Will the same man come back to me?

I'm starting to understand all the agonies of a military wife, and we're not even married.

It's hard to admit it to myself, but I wish we were. I want to be his, for the rest of my life, and if worrying about him being a super soldier thousands of miles away is the price, then I'm willing to accept it.

I'm ready to suffer for this man, the same way I know he'll hurt for me too. I only hope whatever he's gotten himself into now still lets him return in one piece.

It's late evening before I go downstairs for dinner. I think about going out, but it's after ten thirty, and I'm not keen on driving into the city after dark with limited pickings.

I find some leftover curry from my parents' dinner and reheat it, grabbing a coconut water on my way out. Maybe I'll go out for a run around the property, burn off this energy and tension knotting up my muscles.

It's not just the constant worry about Chris that's leaving me on edge. This is the first week he hasn't given me a good, hard fucking since Vegas, and my body reminds me how much I miss it.

I'm wearing the same panties I did on our first trip now, and they're making me wet. I sit down on the patio next to the pool and tuck into my food, trying to savor it.

Anything to get my mind off being wrapped around that bad boy's body, clinging to his muscles, remembering each and every way he drove between my legs like he owned every inch of me...

Shit.

I'm still in la-la-land when she steps in front of me. My desire instantly flicks out the second I see Evie, the last person in the world I ever want to think about when I'm horny.

“What do you want?” I snap, looking at the dark green liquid in the cocktail glass she's brought with her. “Did you come out to hide your booze from my dad?”

So much for being sober. That lasted about a week, if the lying bitch wasn't just hiding her drinks from us the whole time.

“Of course not, dear. He'll be out here to join us in a few minutes. My request. It's a cool, pleasant summer evening, isn't it? I want to put this all behind us as soon as I can, Cordelia.”

“So you've decided you're okay with Chris and I together?” I'm not surprised when she rolls her eyes, but I can't figure out what the hell she's getting at.

“Okay with incest? Ha!” Evie flashes me that man eating smile and steps up, cranes her neck down, way too close for comfort. “You know there are a thousand other boys out there to fuck, right? I've done plenty of it in between my husbands. Sometimes during them too. Grow up, little Delia.”

“Back off.” It's all I can manage.

I swear, if she doesn't get out of my face, I'm going to slash my nails across her cheek and push her to the floor. I can't stand this insufferable, controlling, vicious witch, the first person in my life who makes me want to get violent.

“Ah, there's your father now, coming down the hall.” She takes a long sip of her drink and looks up at the long windows through the gardens, stretching out to the pool and the scenery beyond. “You're in deep shit, missy. Don't say I didn't give you a chance to drop this stupid fling before it got messy.”

Next thing I know, her hand moves and there's a sound of glass shattering below us. Something cold and sticky splashes me, and she rocks back, like I punched her.

What the fuck? I bolt up, and it's only then I realize she threw her own drink in her face.

She's wailing by the time my dad runs up, staggering around like she's blind. And I know that's bullshit. Glass shards are all over, crunching underneath my flip flops, the only proof of her psycho act besides the drink that splashed us both.

“What's going on?” my father yells, pulling her into his arms and shooting me a dirty look. “Christ, do I smell whiskey? Midori?”

“It's horrible, Bruce! I only came out to talk. Things got a little heated, and she threw her drink right in my fucking face. I've got it all over me! This poison, after I've tried so hard to be good. I just –“

She stops herself as my dad crushes her into his chest. I listen to her exaggerated blubbering for the next thirty seconds, too shocked to roll my eyes.

“Come on, darling. Let's go in and get you cleaned up.” He takes her hand gently, wiping the drink off her face with his sleeve, before he looks at me again. “As for you, Cordelia...we're way past disappointed. I expect you in my office in thirty minutes. Don't try to leave. This time, the gate stays shut. Don't even think about getting any bright ideas from your brother. If you wreck anything around here, if you damage my property, I won't be bailing you out next time.”

They turn and start heading for the house. No fucking way.

I run forward, stamping my feet, feeling several shards of glass stuck to my shoes. Ugh.

“Dad – wait! She's lying to you! I watched the bitch come out with that cocktail and throw it in her own face. She's nuts. Rehab hasn't helped her a bit.”

Evie makes an exaggerated whimpering noise and then rips her face off his shoulder, wailing into the open. It'd be embarrassing if it weren't so sick.

Dad stops, turns around, and gives me a look like he's ready to kill. “Cordelia, shut your damned mouth. You've already said enough about my wife. I can't believe I trusted you once. You're in no position to judge anybody else's relationship when you've been bedding your own goddamned brother.”

I'm not sure what's crueler – his words or his glacial tone.

I stop in my tracks and watch them go inside, her clinging to him, and him holding onto her every miserable word. It's an open sky tonight, just a little after sunset, the stars struggling to come out through all the Bay Area's intense light pollution.

For once, I know how they feel in the infinite blackness. I'm being suffocated in my own home.

* * *

Dad's waiting behind his desk, angry as an interrogator. I've rarely seen him like this outside the office, and right now, he's all angry executive.

“Dad, before you start, I –“

“This isn't about you, Cordelia. Not anymore. This is about the good of our family, and a future you're too damned immature to deal with. You won't be seeing any more of Evie's son. If he steps foot on my property again, I'll have him thrown behind bars.”

Oh, this is starting out great. So now he's going to treat the love of my life like a fucking criminal?

“You're overreacting. She's playing you dad, playing you again. I can't believe you're so blind. Evie was in my face a little more than a week ago, calling me a slut, and you stood up for me.”

Dad purses his lips. His eyes darken, and he folds his hands, giving his knuckles a swift crack.

“She was right. I was wrong. The only thing I regret is how blind I was when she tried to warn me about her screwed up, piss poor excuse for a son. I gave him the benefit of the doubt because of what he does for this country. I let my guard down, and yours too.”

“But dad...” I pause, hating how determined he sounds. I can't believe he's already made up his mind on lies. “It's not like that. You have to talk to Chris, let him explain. He'll tell you everything from his point of view. You'll see he's not just trying to get me into bed.”

“Oh, give me a goddamned break, Cordelia.” He rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair. “I've heard it all. I know what these Navy guys are like, especially the elites. They'll tell a woman anything she wants to hear. It's not about love. Even if I thought he was Prince-fucking-Charming, he's still your stepbrother, and I'm not going to have my colleagues staring at me like I'm some kind of fruitcake who thinks anything goes with his daughter.”

“I'm not a little girl anymore,” I shoot back, digging my nails into my thighs so hard it hurts. “You can't control me. I'll be out of school soon, on my own, making whatever way I want.”

“That's where you're wrong.” He folds his hands, leans forward, staring coldly into my eyes. “I'm giving you an ultimatum – if you want that fancy college degree, you'll go to therapy and forget all about your SEAL stepbrother. And no, talking to a doctor isn't an option anymore, not after you threw an alcoholic beverage in my wife's face.”

I'm too stunned to fire back. My heart feels overloaded, like it's been paved over in stone. All I want to do is run upstairs, stuff my face into a pillow, and scream and scream and scream until I pass out.

“I'm proud of you, and I've been glad to pay your tuition all along to move you in the right direction. However, you'd better believe I'll leave you out in the cold if you insist on losing your mind. There's no shame in getting help, honey, and we all need it sometimes. Lord knows I did after your mother walked out. I'll support you the same way I'm supporting Evie. But I'm not going to sit back and watch while you're lashing out, thinking I'll ever endorse this sick, twisted tryst you've had with that man. I swear, sometimes I think he's turned you into a crazy –“

He stops just short of saying bitch. It's not like it matters.

Dad has never, ever been so harsh with me, so hurtful, so threatening. It's all I can take.

I'm blotting at my eyes and tearing out of his office before he can say anything else.

“Think about it!” he yells after me. “You'll come to me tomorrow with the right answer. I know you will, Cordelia, I spent my whole life raising you better than –“

I cover my ears and rush upstairs. The queen bitch is sitting in the nook near their bedroom, letting the pale moonlight spill over, a fresh drink in her hand that's almost drained. I know by the amber color she's hitting the bottle again, and the evil smile she gives me confirms it.

I won't look at her. I get inside my room and slam the door, knowing it's my only safe haven from this prison my house has become.

I can't give up, can't let them win, can't let them destroy the love of my life. I need to talk to Chris. I pull him up on my phone and send him another text.

It's completely futile until he responds to the last five I've sent him, sure, but I can't help it. Where the hell is he?

I'm sick. Worried to death. I really shouldn't be scanning the news right now, but it's all I can do to soothe myself. I'd kill to hear something, find out he's okay, anything that tells me he'll get in touch soon.

There's nothing for the next hour. Then my news app sends an alert after I've started screwing around on social media:

BREAKING: Three American Special Forces Held in North Korea!

My stomach churns before I even open the link. And when I do, I have to cover my mouth, all I can do not to vomit.

Chris' face is front and center. Bruised, beaten up, bloodied. He'd sitting at a table underneath a huge North Korean flag, two grim faced guards next to him and two other SEALs at his side. They're parading them like special prizes for their own sick propaganda.

“No...no, no, no.” I say it over and over again, and then I completely lose my voice.

The phone slips from my hand. A few minutes ago, I could've kept it together. I was ready to fight my parents tooth and nail to stay with him, even if I had to skip the next semester.

I'd show dad that I'm not losing my mind – I'm doing the only sane thing in the world by embracing the man I love.

But now, something is falling, breaking apart deep inside me like a huge ice shelf coming down.

I'm numb. I'm scared. And for the first time in my life, I think I'm going truly crazy.

* * *

“Truly, I wish it didn't have to come down this way, Cordelia. We'll do everything we can to make sure he comes home safe.” Dad's eyes flick nervously back toward mine in the rear view mirror.

I barely shrug.

I haven't sat in the backseat while he's driving since I was a kid. Today, I feel like one, broken and completely helpless.

When the bitch pushed for checking me into the same psych ward she'd went to this morning over breakfast, I didn't say no.

I keep thinking I'll go through the motions, get out of the house, and try to come back for fall semester fresh. You know, not sick to death over wondering if Chris will come home alive, or what kind of brutal torture he's suffering.

I'm kidding myself. I'm the one who's sick and screwed up. Losing him hurts.

I'm so alone. Lost. Loveless.

“We're almost there. You're going to feel much better soon, honey. Honest. Just listen to what the doctors tell you. I'll be here on Friday to see how you're doing.”

“Oh, back off the girl, Bruce. She's just sick in the head. She hasn't reverted back to a baby.” Evie looks up at him from the passenger seat, filing her nails.

There's a steady rain coming down across the hills, spattering the entire metropolitan area It's cold for summer, and I stare out the window, wondering if it's a fraction as dismal and hopeless feeling as the place where Chris is being held prisoner.

The raindrops blend with the sound of Evie scratching her nails to perfection. It's a rough, edgy sound, like my whole world is ripping in two, plunging me into a gray, empty pit I don't know how to climb up from.

I see the clinic looming large in the distance. It's one of those spacious places with incredible gardens and sleek, white wards. Celebrities and rich people go there to detox or unwind from their myriad emotional traumas.

I can't say dad hasn't always offered me the best in everything. I stare at it through the window, wondering how I'll actually feel once I'm locked in, institutionalized, a small team of quacks hovering over me everyday.

My stomach starts knotting up. Then I think about Chris, the only thing I truly want to think about, even when he's causing me the greatest anguish of my life.

This is going to be torture, no doubt about it. But I know it's less than a shred of the brutality he's suffering.

What those monsters did to his face...Jesus Christ.

I'm worried they're going to ruin him. Not that it matters to me – he's handsome, even when he's wearing deep purple bruises on his face and his jaw looks like it's been broken and crudely reset.

I won't give up on him. I can't. I'll never stop loving him.

“Why are you slowing down?” Evie snarls, giving my dad a sharp look. I open my eyes, and realize we're moving at a crawl. “Jesus Christ, Bruce, man up and let's get this over with. We're never going to get our daughter back if we dilly-dally all day. She's all we've got now. I don't have a son anymore.”

“We don't need to talk about that now,” dad snaps, sighing. “Sorry. I just need a moment.”

He's not looking at her as he pulls up to the curb, more distance than he really needs from the door. His eyes are glued to mine in the mirror.

For a second, we share our hurt.

I finally understand why he's doing this. And I wonder if he's beginning to understand Chris and me, our love shining through the dense, twisted wreckage of all our baggage.

I won't blame you, dad, I think, trying to send him the message without wasting any words. Go ahead. Walk me in.

I start to fiddle with my seat belt. The sound annoys Evie, who starts thumping her overdone fingernails on the car's interior, tapping loud and hard in time to the rain.

“Cut it out,” dad growls. “This is stressful enough.”

“Oh?” I see her face turn and she smirks. “Poor baby. I'll fix you a drink or two as soon as we get home. We're doing what we should've done months ago, and she isn't even kicking and screaming. It's a miracle, really.”

I don't have the energy to be mad at this bitch anymore. I just want to get this over with, so I tear off my seat belt and pop the door, heading out into the rain. Dad turns off the car and runs after me, yelling.

“Honey – wait!” he runs up and takes me by the hand. “I can't let you do this alone.”

I stop, feeling the hot tears come as dad hugs me close. The wet splash I feel on my forehead isn't just the rain. There's a drop of something hotter, just like my tears, and I completely lose it when I look up and see him crying too.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Evie's sharp voice rings out behind us, slamming the car door ass he gets out. “Move! You're both making this harder than you need to. The girl's way past hugs and kisses, Bruce. She needs drugs, doctors, shock therapy.”

Okay, now I'm pissed. I look up, beaming all my hatred at her, but it's nothing compared to dad's.

“Evie...shut the fuck up.” He's storming, and I recognize the same rough thunder in his tone I've heard in Chris' a dozen times before.

“Oh, so now you finally channel the tough guy.” She pauses and laughs, an irritating sound that makes me want to slap her across the face. “Where the hell were you while your family was falling apart, Bruce? Where are you now? You're a few steps away from getting her the help she needs to get off her sick, cancerous crush on my idiot son, and you're standing here blubbering like a baby.”

Dad slowly releases me. The rain picks up, like something out of a bad movie, and Evie makes a face. She just won't let up.

“Ten seconds. That's all I'm giving you before I check her in myself. I'm not going to stand here all day watching this ridiculous heartbreak in the rain.” She reaches up and brushes her hand through her hair, wrinkling her face in disgust.

She's way too done up for dropping me off with shrinks. It's almost like she's...celebrating or something. Which, I guess, isn't completely out of the question. She's taller than both of us on her heels.

They look like they're ready to flatten us any second, walk over our bones, solidifying her triumph. I can't believe she doesn't see it.

She's still blaming Chris for screwing our family? The only one doing the sabotage here is standing right in front of me, counting down on her fingers, a vicious smirk plastered on her face.

“Okay, ten!” she yells, tapping at the clock on her phone. “Come on, Cordelia, it's time for mama to do the job daddy won't.”

She starts toward me and I step back. There's no fucking way I'm going to take her hand. I'll push her down into the gutter and watch her roll around in the cool, wet drainage before I do that.

She's fast, determined, and I'm really screwed up. Before she can grab me, dad throws his arm around my shoulder and spins me around. We're walking, quick stepping back to the car. He pops the passenger door and shoves me inside.

I blink, not understanding what the hell just happened. Dad pops his door and slides into the driver's seat. He's about to shift the car in gear before Evie runs up, raking her long, green fingernails on his window until he puts it down.

“Asshole! Have you lost your fucking mind? What the hell is wrong with you? Both of you!”

“Check yourself in, Evie. You're going to need a reset before I send in the divorce paperwork next week.”

My heart stops, and for the first time since I saw Chris in the media, I crack a smile.

“You're making a huge mistake, little man,” she snarls, fear and rage souring her face. “Do it. I fucking dare you to. I'll take you to court and squeeze every penny out of your miserable, selfish accounts. I'll go to your finance bloggers and tell them all about your whore of a daughter, your spineless little tantrums, how bad you are in bed. I swear to god, if you cut me out, Bruce, I'll –“

He floors it. Dad and I are laughing like angry, emotional lunatics as the car rockets away, doing a hard loop around the clinic before heading back to the road.

The last glimpse I ever catch of Evie is the car's tires kicking water in her face, ruining her outfit. She stands there the whole time in full meltdown, soaking wet and stamping her feet, cursing us for ruining her life.

When the sheer adrenaline wears off, we're back in the city, tooling along the streets. We're stopped at a long light when I finally grab his hand and ask.

“Dad? Is that really you? What set you off?”

He smiles softly. “I knew I was going to drop one of my girls off for some serious help the whole way here. Evie made the choice very, very easy. I couldn't have gone through with you, honey, however angry I am about Chris. I'm just sorry it took me this long to see it.”

I nod and swallow, pushing down the bitter lump in my throat so I don't start blubbering all over again.

“You made the right choice, in case you wondered.”

“Damn right I did,” he says, punching the gas hard when the light goes green. “I'll take the woman who's in love with an asshole, my own flesh and blood, any day over the asshole pretending to be in love with me.”

It's going to be a long road home, an enormous journey to fix everything else in my life. But for the first time in forever, there's finally hope, and I realize there's more than one person left on earth who loves me.