Page 96 of Hunted: Season Two
They’re not.
Which isn’t a terrible thing, from the little bits of his childhood he let slip free while we were decorating our tree.
Part of me thinks he’s sharing to prove to Kid that hecanbe open with him – unprompted – that there really are no secrets between them, that he’s completely in this like we are, yet the other part of me thinks it’s happening because nowhe’sgoing to be a dad and is reflecting on the shitty one he had.
What went wrong.
What not to do.
Whatneverto do.
How to prevent becoming the very person who gave him half his genetics.
And Kid?
Kid is having similar concerns.
He might not say it out loud, but it’s clear as a properly put together budget proposal on his face that he has similar worries.
Thathemay end up being more like his dad than he imagined possible.
Their contiguity in that department is bringing them closer but not exactly allowing me to have a role, which is why –again– I love having my own friends to also confide in about my own worries.
I think it’s healthy that I do.
That wealldo.
I also like learning what emotionally healthy actually is.
I want our child – or perhaps somedaychildren– to have what it is we clearly lost out on having.
I mean I didn’t have shit parents.
But there was definitely room for improvement.
Then again…isn’t that true formostparents?
“They’re not his biological parents,” I casually explain prior to sealing the last of the giftwrap in place, “however, they had a major hand in raising him.” Grabbing a gift tag sticker occurs next. “Truth?” My fingers pause on pulling up the objectto meet her stare. “I’m kinda nervous. I haven’t met a boyfriend’s parents in years.”
And the last set of parents Ididmeet?
Mommy dearest hand fed her psycho son his steak and let him pat dry the juices off her tits when his father was out of the room.
And good ol’ dad?
He had a permanent glazed over gaze that I’m now wondering if maybe was caused by a drug they were giving to him inhisbeverages…like they had to me.
Perhaps he’s a prisoner too?
“You’ll doa-maz-ing,” Posie swiftly reassures, encouraging me to finish up wrapping with a small tip of the chin. “You’re so fucking lovable, they’re probably gonna be like ‘uh marry this one already’.” My giggles are immediately gasped over. “What if hedoespropose?!” There isn’t time to respond courtesy of another gasp. “Wait! Does he have to propose tobothof you?” Her head cocks itself in confusion. “Or just you ‘cause you’re the chick?” A deep cringe keeps me from answering. “Is that like totally bias shit?” She jabs a finger in the air in my direction. “Sexist shit.” Her tiny, pointed nose scrunches. “Genderist?!”
“Posie,” comes out in soft, sweet tone, “you’re overthinking it.”
“Or maybeyou’reunder thinking it.” She plops her hands onto her jean bearing hips. “What ifthat’sthe whole reason he wants to introduce you to them?! Or what if introducing you is just a distraction to the real plot reveal of a proposal?!” Her head bounces back and forth in needless contemplation. “Proposals?” After a quick shake, she squeaks, “Whatevs! We totally need topick you out something special to wear! For thatandthe annual winter festival this weekend.”
I playfully wag my finger. “You just want me to spend more money at your store to help you get your Christmas bonus.”
“It can be both!”