Prologue

Pulling into the street of my childhood home fills me with dread. It's a nice-ish neighborhood, but it is also the lair…I mean home, of my mother and sister. The best way to describe them is like day old milk. Occasionally, it will be fine to drink, but most of the time it's going to be spoiled and rotten.

One time, my sister Dahlia ordered nearly two hundred dollars' worth of makeup in my name from the multi-level marketing business she signed up for, so she could look good to her high ups. I had to pay up to avoid a collections agent coming after me.

Another time I mentioned a Lego set I was planning to buy myself and my mom said she'd get it for me for my birthday. My birthday came and went and no Lego. When I asked her about it a month later, she screamed at me for being selfish and that the only time I call her is when I want something. Even though I said I'd buy it.

They both wanted me to decline my cheerleading scholarships because Dahlia didn't get one four years earlier. She didn't get a cheerleading scholarship because she was never a cheerleader and she didn't apply for any scholarships.

Super fun.

My dad left before I could even remember him and there is no one else. If they weren't my only family, I would have cut ties a long time ago. I don't want to be all alone, so here we are.

Stuck in a cycle of toxicity.

I pull up on the road outside the house and I already don't have a good feeling about this. My mom, Dahlia, a police officer, and the hottest guy known to man are standing on the sidewalk.

What shit do I have to bail them out of now?

"Here he is, officer," my mom says with a fake little laugh as I get out of my car. "I told you my daughter wasn't lying."

Neither Dahlia or mom look at me and I really hate the sting of rejection that leaves behind.

The hot guy who was scowling at my mom turns and aims it at me. I think he's going for intimidating, but all I want to do is get on all fours and show him my hole. I can't decide what is more attractive; the cargo shorts, baggy white tank that is showing a sliver of nipple, or the neon purple backwards baseball cap covering his shaggy black hair.

Yup, definitely the cap.

I need to know what this guy does for a living because the muscles are doing it for me.

"Lying about what?" I ask, when I pull my gaze away from the hottie. "Why is there a police officer here?"

"Mom is selling the car because I need money for an investment opportunity," Dahlia says with the smuggest smile. "And the cop is here because he's a friend of the buyer or something."

I just blink at her.

"Mom doesn't have a car." She sold it a year ago, thinking that taxis would work out cheaper. Unsurprisingly, she was wrong.

"Yes, she does. Your car."

Every single time I think they can't stoop lower, they do.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You are not selling my car." I cross my arms and turn to the cop and the hot guy. "Have you already paid her the money?"

The cop snorts. "No, we haven't. My nephew isn't going to hand over money for a car he's not seen yet.

"That's good," I say, smiling at them grimly. "I'm sorry for the stunt they've pulled but I'm not selling my baby."

I love my car. I spent all of senior year saving up for it. I had to hide my money in a fake peanut butter jar so they didn't claim it for themselves. I hid money in a fake peanut butter jar, because they are both mildly allergic. I could only eat it in my bedroom, which is fine, and it meant they would leave it alone. I went through a lot to buy Pascal. No fucking way am I giving my car up.

"It's not your car though, is it Periwinkle?" Dahlia says nastily.

Inhale through your nose, exhale from your mouth. You are not a violent person, Perry. Just a petty one. I chant to myself. I hope she joins a dentist themed multi-level marketing company and all of her teeth fall out. Hmm, that thought is calming.

The hot guy is looking less scowly and more confused now. Same for the cop. They look kind of similar. Almost like father and son.

"It's registered to mom," she says like someone who has just pulled a trump card out their back pocket.

I roll my eyes.

"No, it isn't, dumbass." I retort.

My mom bristles next to me. "How dare you talk to your sister like that? Officer, he just verbally assaulted my daughter. Please arrest him." She turns to me with her signature cold stare. "Maybe a night in the slammer will sort you out."

She has been icy towards me her whole life, so you think it would be something I'm used to. Nope. The stony stare and glacial voice manages to punch me in the gut every single time.

I whip my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text to the cheer queers group chat. I probably won't get arrested, but you never know.

"Ma'am, I'm not arresting your son," the officer says placatingly.

"He is refusing to give my mom her property," Dahlia says, crossing her arms. "Surely that is theft."

"Why the fuck are you so keen to get your family member arrested?" Hottie says, his voice as smooth as honey.

Dahlia opens her mouth to say something, but I interrupt. Honestly, I can't take another verbal bullet from them today.

"Should I just show you my registration papers, officer? It'll prove the car is mine and clear this matter up."

"Yes, please," The poor guy sounds almost desperate for this to end. I don't blame him. Who knows how long this had been going on before I got here?

I open the passenger door and pull out the folder from my glove compartment with a little too much force, causing my emergency dildo to fallout as well. Right onto the seat for the whole world to see.

I'm not some sex mad gay man who can't sit in traffic without getting off. I just happen to not like blood very much so I figured a twelve inch dildo would be a superb weapon if a serial killer tried to murder me.

Why did I decide to use the one that looks like a standard yellow writing pencil with a red eraser on the end?

Maybe being a dumbass ran in the family.

I hear a muffled snort and look up to see the hottie smirking at me.

Fuck. My. Life.

I push down the embarrassment and return his smile brightly before stuffing the dildo back into the glove box.

"Here you go, officer," I say, handing him the registration papers.

"He's right. The car belongs to Periwinkle Cyan Hawthorn," the cop says to my furious mom and sister.

I really don't love my entire name being said aloud.

"Mom?" Dahlia whines.

Mom ignores her for the first time in forever and turns her thunderous face on to me. "You owe your sister. You already took that scholarship knowing it would hurt her feelings. Now, you either let Dahlia sell your car, or you give her the two thousand dollars she needs for this investment opportunity. This is your sister's future we are talking about."

If it had just been the three of us, I probably would have caved and gave in. But seeing the police officer and the Hotties faces a mixture of shock and pity strengthens something in me.

No one pities me.

I'm Perry fucking Hawthorn.

They can't walk all over me anymore

"No."

The surprise on both of their faces is priceless.

"What?"

"I'm not doing it. Dahlia is twenty-six years old. If she needs money, she can get a loan or a job. My car, my college money, is off limits. It is to secure my future."

My mom scoffs.

"What future? You can't be a cheerleader for the rest of your life."

"I'm doing a marketing degree." I hate I can hear the hurt in my voice.

"Whatever," Dahlia huffs. "Just give the guy your car so we can all move on. You're making everyone feel uncomfortable."

"If you don't do this, you are no son of mine," my mom adds.

That sentence makes me waver.

They are my mom and my sister, and they would throw me away over two thousand dollars.

They are my family.

Are they though? The small voice at the back of my brain speaks up.

I think about my friend's parents. Lexi, Gio, Bradley, Wyatt, and Nate all have parents that are supportive and loving. Wyatt's family has really limited funds, yet his dad always makes the cheer queers a wooden figure for our birthdays.

They do movie nights, family dinners, video calls to show their kids that they care. That they love them.

All my family shows me is how much they don't care. They gaslight and belittle me.

They aren't my real family.

"Dude, don't you fucking dare," Hottie says, jaw clenched in anger. "Don't give these assholes what they want."

A small smile tugs at my lips and something flashes in his honey brown eyes before he nods at me.

"I guess we are done here then, mom." I wait a beat and when neither of them protest, I turn around and get into my car.

I wait until I am half a street away before I let the tears fall.