“Yeah you do, asshole. If you ever come near Caroline again, her place of work, her house, anything even remotely connected to her, you’ll deal with me.”
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked again.
I pressed my arm against his throat and kept pressing until it was hard for him to breathe. “Don’t make me waste my time by telling you all the things I could do to you or all the people I could call. Do we have an understanding?”
I tightened my arm again, crushing his throat beneath my hold. He clawed at my arms. His face was turning red, and his eyes were staring at me in panic. I pressed harder one more time until he finally nodded. I released him. “Good,” I said and patted him on the shoulder. “That was your only warning. Hope I don’t see you around, Dean.”
I strolled out of his house, whistling to myself as I hopped in my truck to grab my power washer and head to Caroline’s.
28 Caroline
I’d barely said a word throughout the appetizers. I hadn’t shown up for our family dinners for the past few weeks. This was the first one I’d attended since walking out, and I’d regretted coming almost as soon as I arrived. My mom was giving me the cold shoulder. Our table was silent until my sister arrived, late again.
As my mom and sister chatted, I stayed silent, sipping my water and enjoying the stuffed mushrooms the waiter had brought.
“Are we going to make it through this dinner without you throwing a tantrum like a toddler?” My mother sneered.
I placed the fork and knife I’d been using to cut the mushrooms in half down on the plate, took a sip of my water, and met my mother’s eyes. Her stare was icy. I glanced at my sister; she was smirking. And, as usual, my dad was oblivious. “I didn’t throw a tantrum,” I stated calmly. “You were rude and I left.”
My sister rolled her eyes and huffed.
“You’re so dramatic,” my mother said. “I’ve never understood why you couldn’t simply calm down instead of causing a scene at every turn.”
“I didn’t cause a scene. I got up to go to the restroom and then left. How long did it take you to realize I was gone?” I asked.
“Pretty quickly,” my sister said. “Without your screeching and crying, it was rather quiet.”
Anger started to bubble in my chest. I bit my cheek. I always cried when I was angry; that was when my tears surfaced. I hated it. I loathed that trait because my family had always used my tears as a weapon against me. I took a deep breath. “Kevin was emotionally and verbally abusive, and you suggested that was the best I could get.”
My mother shook her head. “Your sister always has dates and you never do. It’s just that we don’t want you to wind up alone.”
It wasn’t that at all. She wasn’t concerned about me; she didn’t even want me to be happy. She wanted someone who fit into her image. She wanted me to fit into the image she had in her head of a perfect daughter.
“Maybe if you had put a little more effort into your appearance, Kevin would have treated you better.”
“I deserve to be treated with respect, no matter what a number on a scale says or how big my jeans are,” I hissed across the table. I couldn’t stop the flood of tears welling in my eyes or the fury igniting in the pit of my stomach.
“Here come the tears from the crybaby,” my sister said and took a drink from her wine glass.
“Shut up,” I seethed. I clenched my jaw, and my hands knotted into fists in my lap.
Katrina laughed. “Someone’s trying to grow a spine. You’ve always been a pushover.”
“I’m kind, not a pushover,” I stated firmly. “Do not ever mistake my kindness for weakness. Don’t mistake my emotions for weakness…or my tears. My tears don’t make me weak. You are not stronger than me. You are not better than me because you cry less. Crying makes me human. It shows my empathy and compassion and my humanity. I am not weak.”
I swallowed and swiped at a stray tear that fell down my cheek. I glared at Katrina and my mother. These words had been bottled inside me for years. I’d longed for understanding. And I’d found it through my friendship with Daphne and through Kiernan pushing my boundaries. Kiernan showing me my beauty, inside and out.
I deserved more than this.
I was finally understanding that.
My hands shook as I rose from my chair. “I choose to be here because I am loyal to you because you are my family. I don’t have to come, and I refuse to tolerate this any longer. I’m one of the most highly sought after vets in the city. Do you know how rare that is for someone my age? I’m a master dog trainer. I’m kind, loving, empathic, and giving. It doesn’t matter that you don’t find me beautiful, because I do. And so do others. I am your daughter,” I said to my mother, staring hard into her eyes, before swiveling to my sister. “I am your sister. I deserve more than you give me.”
Judging from the smirks on their faces, I wasn’t sure if they’d heard me. To them, this was another crying jag, another fit I was throwing. To me, it was my moment of standing and refusing to conform to what they needed. I wouldn’t live in my sister’s shadow. I strode out the door and into the parking lot. A few stray tears were slowly falling as I got into my car and headed home.
The shaking had finally subsided by the time I pulled into my driveway. I got out of my car and walked up the
