Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“You’re going to leave,” he grits out. “You’re going to leave here and
leave any hope of her. You’re going to do the hardest thing you’ve ever had
to do, because it’ll save you, Liv. Because you’re Trysta Jaeger’s daughter,
and we’re going to do what she would’ve wanted us to do and didn’t have the
courage to do herself. We keep biting back. We survive, because sometimes
that’s the most violent thing we can do to other people. We stay alive.”
My body shakes as the tears pour.
“And in a year, you won’t even understand how you could have loved her
this much,” he tells me. “I promise you.”
How can he promise that? He doesn’t know. No one does. I don’t think I
can see tomorrow, much less months from now. God, how do I leave?
“I promise,” he says again, his eyes hard. “I promise.”
But I can’t imagine not wanting her. I can’t see not hating her with
someone else and wanting anyone else as much as I want her. I cry, covering
my face with my hands again, so he doesn’t see how fucking awful and
pathetic I became because of her.
How I let this happen to myself?
But for a moment, maybe I understand a fraction of what my mother felt
all her life. The despair. God, I hate it. I hate it so much.
Macon doesn’t say more. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me
out of my room. Holding me tight, he carries me into his, where my father’s
old recliner still sits, and sits down, hugging me close.
“Old world pepperoni,” he orders as he tucks my head into his neck.
And faintly, I hear Trace’s grumble, “I hate old world pepperoni. It
scratches the roof of my mouth.”
But he leaves, following instructions, and after a moment, I let my arm
circle my brother’s neck as he holds me until the pizza comes.