Gritting my teeth, I turn the volume up louder, making the memory dissipate. Idon’twant to remember.
Go away! That was bad touch! You should be in hell.
I’m not sure I believe in heaven or hell. It’s hard to believe in something you don’t see. It’s even harder to believe in something when the message behind it is so twisted.
I don’t even know if he belongs in hell. Everyone says he does, but… he loved me. Does loving me mean he deserves to go to hell?
A splash of water makes me open my eyes. The music is so loud that I didn’t hear the commotion of the quad in their big party raft coming toward me until they’re right here.
Orev and Arek are just like Loren. They look just like Loren, too. Dark hair, dark eyes. Dark aura. Their sense of humor is very dry, and a little unhinged, even at six. All the signs are there that they’re also inflicted with an antisocial disorder.
Adem and Rosalie aren’t quite the same. Rosalie will certainly laugh at their darker humor, but she’s all kinds of soft and sweet. Adem is nothing like the three of them. He’s completely neurotypical.
These four kids came from three different surrogates, all implanted on the same day and born on the same day—by design. Three was the magic number, and Loren wanted all three pregnancies at once. Orev and Arek are identical twins. Three babies were planned for. Not four.
We still call them the quad, even though they came from different surrogates. That’s how they’re raised, and we respect that.
Unlike Emerson and Axl, who have the run of the property already, unless the quads are with some of the older kids, their parents are never far. I can see both Oakley and Loren on the shore under an umbrella.
Now that I’m looking, I can see Gracen sitting on the dock too.
Rosalie lays her body over the edge of the giant float and taps my leg. When she has my attention, she points at the headphones. I pull them down.
“Want to come on the big float with us, Uncle Malin?” she asks.
The party float fits eight. That’s what it was bought for. The lake feels a little small for it, though it’s not by any means. Maybe hanging with the kids will silence Ryan for a while. Give him other subjects to comment on how sinful they’re being.
Nodding, I lean over and adjust myself on the float so I can climb onto theirs. Orev joins his sister over the side to keep my float steady while I shimmy aboard theirs. Theirs has a canopy over the couch area. Honestly, the reprieve from the sun is welcome.
“We’re going to pick up Uncle Gracen. I think he’ll want to join us, too,” Rosalie says.
I’m impressed when they manage to paddle this thing to the dock. They don’t even need to ask. Gracen is already on his feet. He ties my lounger float to the dock and then climbs on and sits beside me.
Maybe I scoot a little closer. As soon as I catch his cologne or whatever it is, Ryan’s voice silences, though I can still see him in the corner of my eye. He’s furious. I don’t know what he’s saying, but I can imagine it.
Sinful beast. I need to be cleansed all night.
I turn my attention away and watch the kids. Arek, Adem, and Rosalie are sitting at the front of the float with their feet hanging in the water. Orev is sitting on the raised floor of the section we’re in, watching his siblings.
We’re floating freely now. There’s music, but it’s not loud. There are no words to it either. Just the acoustics. It’s… nice. Soothing. I close my eyes and let my head rest against Gracen’s shoulder.
When I open my eyes, I realize I must have fallen asleep. It’s my first sleep in so long that didn’t have Ryan interrupting. My nap might have been short, but I feel much more energized.
Also, my hand is on Gracen’s leg. His hairy leg. He’s so hairy. My fingers flex as they move through the hair, and for some reason, it makes me smile.
“The kids are driving us toward shore to get snacks. You hungry?”
I’m about to say no, but my stomach clenches. “Yes.”
“Add one more meal, Adem,” Gracen says.
“Okay, Unc.”
The kids look at age, and that’s what determines who’s an uncle and who’s a cousin. Basically, anyone older than me is an uncle. If we went by relations, it gets a little murky. Technically speaking, Greylyn is an aunt to seven of the kids who are older than her.
It’s much easier to go by age. It’s easier for me not to think about it. Even though I’ve been here for nearly all their lives, it’s still confusing. Probably because Jalon’s brothers are so much closer to his sons’ ages than they are to his. It makes it all as clear as thick chowder.
Ryan is still there when I pick my head up, sitting just outside my peripheral vision. I focus on the kids and marvel at how self-sufficient they are. These kids are some of the richest on the planet, and yet, their independence is incredible. You’d think they’d suffer the opposite ailment and be uselessly spoiled with no ability to even wash themselves on their own.
