Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

When they got to their dad’s, Manon was all over Remy, and Sah went to give his mom a hug.

But after the greetings, there was more weirdness, because Mom and Dad were cooking together in Dad’s kitchen like they’d done it a million times before.

They had.

Just not in Dad’s kitchen.

Mom was pickling the onions and making the lime crema. Dad was flavoring the filets with taco seasoning.

Dad seemed tight.

Mom was being too loose.

All right.

This was not about them getting together, because first, it looked like they just were, and second, they would not be acting funny if that was it.

This was about something else.

Had Myrna pulled some shit with them too?

He’d barely gotten himself a beer before he figured all this out and he didn’t delay any further in finding out what was up.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Yves will be here soon. We’ll talk then,” Wyn said.

“You guys are being weird,” he accused.

“They’re not being weird,” Manon put in. “They’re being like they always used to be, just doing it at Dad’s. You’re the one who’s being weird.”

“For the last time, I’m not being weird,” Sabre clipped.

Which, of course, bought him his dad’s attention.

Remy didn’t tell him off for talking in a mean tone to his sister, something his father did not tolerate (truth, though, was their dad didn’t like that anytime, even when Yves and Sah were having words, but definitely Manon was a no go).

Remy just studied him.

Too closely.

“Just tell me,” he said right to his dad. “Are you both okay?”

“We are both great,” his father stated firmly.

Yup.

They were back together.

He grinned at his dad.

Remy grinned back.

For the first time since he walked out of class, Sabre chilled out.

Yves showed and it nearly made Sabre laugh.

Mom and Dad had said to be there by seven and they were all there before six.

That meant they all knew what this was about, and they were all ready for Dad’s tacos, which was apparently shorthand for another family celebration.

It happened after Dad asked them to grab drinks then go into the living room, not the family room, to have a “chat.”

And after they went there.

When his father started talking.

It was then, for the first time in his life, Sabre realized just how freaking lucky he was up until then with the hand life dealt him.

No, with the parents God gave him.

Because it didn’t affect him too much his grandma was dying of cancer.

It might seem mean, but the woman wasn’t very nice. She treated his mom like shit. She was bizarre with his father, all fawny and gross. And she said things to Manon that weren’t okay.

It wasn’t about being an old lady either. Their gramme, Mom’s mom, had been the exact opposite in every way.

Colette Gastineau was just…like…a little psycho.

It was what came after.

The words coming from his dad’s mouth.

The dislocated shoulder.

The broken arm.

The concussion.

The news his father had had a tux since he was six (like, what the fuck? How creepy was that?).

And more.

The way his parents were both standing, like the edge couldn’t come off enough even for them to take a seat.

The way Mom was holding Dad’s hand and you could see she was pumping it, like she was pumping love into him through their fingers.

The way Manon started weeping quietly and Yves had to grab hold of her and didn’t let go.

“So,” his mother finally took over, which was good, because Sabre was pretty sure his ears were bleeding, “I’ll be calling school, Yves, to sort things for you. Sah, Manon, you need to talk to your professors. We’re all flying out Thursday, mid-morning, and returning Monday afternoon. You can be back in classes on Tuesday.”

“’Kay, Mom,” Yves said.

But Sabre was looking at his father.

“All this shit went down, what did your dad do?” he asked.

“Dad worked and was away from home a lot,” Remy answered.

“So, like, he didn’t know his wife was beating the crap out of his son?” Sabre demanded.

Remy tilted his head to the side and said quietly, “He knew, Sah.”

Sabre looked at his mother.

Oh yeah.

What was on her face was in his heart.

That’s how he felt.

Black as pitch.

That bitch was a bitch.

But that guy? His grandfather? Knowing this shit was going down and doing fuck all?

What in the absolute fuck?

“Manon, honey, are you okay?” Remy asked his girl.

“Yeah, she’s okay, because her father treats her like gold,” Sabre answered for his sister.

Remy’s gaze shot to Sah, so did Wyn’s, but he pushed out of Dad’s kickass sofa that Manon said the leather felt like “butter.”

“And I’m okay because, even when I fucked up and had that party when you guys were in New York, you were pissed at me, but you were cool to me,” he went on. “I mean, you didn’t break my arm or shove me down a flight of stairs or anything.”

“Sah—” Remy started.