Robbie’s other genetic donor stepped around her husband and eyed Finn from head to toe. It made Finn want to take a shower.
It also made him suddenly uncomfortably aware of a few facts. 1. Finn’s T-shirt barely hid the hickey on his collarbone. 2. Said shirt was pink and saidPrincessin shimmery script. And 3. His engagement ring had slipped from under his collar when he stumbled back from the door.
Mrs. Dickhead curled her lip. “You must be the reason our son has been ignoring us.”
“Pardon?” If Robbie was ignoring them, it was pretty obviously because they sucked.
“Clearly some sort of midlife crisis,” she added with a wrinkled nose. Her gaze dipped to his shirt and soured further. Jesus, these gender-essentialist assholes were giving him a headache. Well, if she insisted, Finn was happy to call her a cunt instead.
“Did no one tell the man he’s supposed to buy a car, not a slut?” Dickhead said.
“Excuse me?” Did Finn really just get called a sex worker? Not that he was offended by the charge on the surface, but who the fuck barged into their son’s home, saw evidence of a fiancé, and assumed he must be paying for it? Like Robbie didn’t deserve all the love and devotion in the world.
Also, he was pretty sure Robbie wasn’t even out to his parents, so—unless they’d known this whole time?
“And stupid too,” Cunt said.
Dickhead stepped forward and attempted to go around Finn. “Where’s our granddaughter?”
The demand shook Finn out of his stupor, and he stepped sideways in front of them. “No.”
Dickhead put a hand on Finn’s chest in an attempt to push him out of the way, but Finn dug in his heels. “Don’t touch me. You are not invited into this house. You are trespassing. Get out or I’ll call the police.”
He didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t let these people near Sawyer. If he could just get them on the other side of the door—
Cunt tried to sidestep in the other direction and shrieked Sawyer’s deadname.
Finn’s stomach curdled. No way Sawyer hadn’t heard that, and Robbie wasn’t here for reassurance.
“What are you doing here?” Sawyer warbled from behind him. Finn looked over his shoulder to see the kid standing in the doorway of the living room, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.
Finn vibrated, torn between the urge to stay put and keep these people away from his—thiskid—and the impulse to wrapSawyer in his arms. To hug and hold him until he stopped trembling. Sawyer’s breathing was fast and shallow, and from the lack of colour in his face, he was clearly headed toward a panic attack.
“We’ve come for you, cupcake.” Cunt tried to step closer. Finn blocked her way. “If this… this whore would get out of our way.”
“Don’t call him that!”
Finn couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck it. These people were in the house. Finn couldn’t prevent that now. But maybe he could get Sawyer farther away.
He strode away from them and pulled Sawyer into his arms. “You’re okay. I got you. They can’t hurt you. Okay? Keep your eyes on me.” Where could Finn send him? The rec room downstairs was pretty well soundproofed. It didn’t lock, but there was an attached bathroom that did. Finn could put some music on, maybe? Something loud with a lot of swearing.
“Get your hands off our grandchild, you pervert!” Dickhead yelled, which was when Zulma made her presence known.
Finn wondered what had taken her so long.
She descended the stairs from the upper level with a cool poise that had to be deeply ingrained. “Good afternoon. I’m Zulma Gutierrez-Hernandez from the Children’s Aid Society. And who are you?”
That stopped Mr. and Mrs. Asshole in their tracks… until Dickhead scoffed. “Says you. How do we know you’re not another one?” He flung a hand in Finn’s direction. “For all we know, Robert’s got a whole harem.”
“Well,” said a calm, authoritative voice from the open doorway, “for one, I’m not a sultan. Or a sea lion.”
“Robert!” Apparently they couldn’t useanyone’spreferred name. “Don’t be disgusting.”
“Right. I’m the disgusting one.” Robbie stepped into the house and placed himself between the grandparents, and Finn and Sawyer.
Finn took the opportunity to enact the scraps of his plan. “Go downstairs,” he murmured. “Put on some loud music. Lock yourself in the bathroom. We’ll text you when they’re gone, okay?”
Sawyer nodded gratefully and thundered down the stairs to the basement without looking back.
