“I was a weapon,” I mused. “The only weapon he had to hurt you with.”

She wipes her nose on the side of her wrist and nods, her blue eyes softening as if we’re sharing a special moment. I’m sure it’s a special moment, in her book.

“I wish things would’ve been different,” she says. “There’s nothing you or I can do about any of it but move forward. I’m just glad to have you in my life again.”

Her hand slides across the table, covering mine. She’s not shaking anymore. I drag my eyes toward hers, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t completely hate her.

“Mind if I get to bed?” Heart-to-hearts wear me the fuck out. I’m not cut out for those kinds of talks.

“Do you forgive me, Jensen?” Her eyes are round, her brows raised. “I need to know. And if you can’t forgive me, is there any hope you might someday?”

I might be an asshole most of the time, and I’m definitely a Mackey, but I’m not heartless. Plus, she’s taking me in, which beats the hell out of some random foster home or halfway house. Mercy told me I was old enough to be a ward of the state, but I wanted to finish my last few weeks high school without worrying about how I was going to provide for myself or where I’d be staying until my apprenticeship. This, believe it or not, was the lesser of all evils.

I take a deep breath, consider it, and release. “Sure… Mom.”

She smiles when I call her that, and maybe it’s sort of worth it. I don’t tend to make a ton of people smile these days. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling like I used to get when I’d break into the communion wine cabinet.

“One more thing.” Her smile fades fast. “You’re going to meet the rest of your family tomorrow. Be ready by seven. We’ll head over to the main house together.”

I rise from my chair, immediately plunking back down from the force of the bomb she’s just dropped. That explains the twelve chairs at the table.

“Wait… what?” I scratch just above my brow. I could’ve sworn Mercy said Kath was a single mom. No one mentioned a husband.

“Your stepfather’s name is Mark,” she says slowly, her chin dipped low. “I’m his third wife. I have two sister wives, and you have five other brothers and sisters.”

I lean back in my seat. There were some polygamous communities in Arizona, but they mostly lived on self-governed compounds. We rarely noticed them. They didn’t live on a street with white-picket fences and manicured lawns. They didn’t wear jeans or look like Kath.

“Mark’s first wife is—”

“Does Dad know?”

Kath pauses before nodding. “He found out a few years ago. I’m not sure how, but I’d sent you a card on your thirteenth birthday, and he sent a letter back threatening to out us all if I tried contacting you again.”

I lean forward. “So you’re, what, FLDS now? How’d that happen? We’re not—Dad’s not—Mormon.”

“Technically we’re not FLDS. We’re AUB. Apostolic United Brethren.” She offers a dreamy smile, as if she’s recalling the best thing that’s ever happened to her. “It’s nothing I went searching for. It found me. I don’t know, Jensen. It just sort of happened. I met Mark, and we hit it off. When he explained his situation, his beliefs, it all sounded… perfect.”

“So you have no problem sharing your husband with other women?” It’s none of my business, but this is crazier than the damn snake charmers Dad brought to the church one summer. Plus, it’s getting late. My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders and my filter has washed up and gone to bed for the night. “So you left Dad and found someone even more dysfunctional. Good for you.”

Her lips form a straight line and she squints. “There are things I don’t expect you to understand, Jensen.” She says my name a lot. Makes me wonder if she’s missed saying it over the years. “There are certain burdens that come with being a woman. Being a sister-wife, you share those burdens. And the love we share—”

“Okay, cool.” I slap my hand on the table. Not a single ounce of me wants to carry on this conversation with her, because I’ve already got a general idea of where it’s heading. I stand up and stretch. “I need to get to bed, so…”

“Right.” She rises, and her stare is heavy like it doesn’t want to let me go quite yet. She doesn’t have a choice. I’m exhausted. Plus, I don’t give a shit about the dirty details of her weird-ass plural-marriage. “See you at seven. Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you.”

I hear her faintly call “goodnight” as I trudge up the stairs. Rounding the corner to my new dinosaur room, the one I share with the half-brother I never knew existed, I tumble into bed, not bothering to crawl under the covers. Too many nights I’ve woken up tangled and constricted by fucking sheets and blankets. I’d rather be cold than overpowered by anyone or anything ever again.

Gideon— I think that’s his name—is talking in his sleep. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but he’s clearly not having a nightmare. Must be nice.

I rest my hands behind my head and stare up at the green, glowing stars on the ceiling with half-open eyes.

Tomorrow I meet the rest of the freaks.

CHAPTER 2

WAVERLY

“Kath said he was beat up pretty badly.” My older sister, Bellamy, whisks scrambled eggs over the stove as I’m stirring two pitchers of orange juice. “Don’t stare, or anything.”

“What happened?” I ask, replacing the lid on the pitchers and carrying them to the table. Going to school every morning smelling like a restaurant is one of the worst things about my life right now, but I could have childcare duty. I’d much rather smell like bacon and eggs than spend all morning wiping snotty noses and getting the kids dressed.

“We don’t know, and it’s none of our concern,” Mom interjects. Her voice is hushed, which is her way of telling us to stop talking about it. Summer—my dad’s second wife—and her three kids shuffle in from the family room and take their places at the table. One more year and our half-sister, Justice, will be old enough to help out with meal prep. For now she gets the easy chores like emptying trash cans and dusting blinds.

Those were the days.

“You’re going to burn those,” I tell Bellamy. “You know how Dad gets about his eggs not being fluffy.”

Bellamy sighs and clicks off the burner. Ever since she took a job working at some financial corporation in Salt Lake City, she’s been zoned out on autopilot. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s met someone, but she won’t tell anyone anything. She’s secretive like that. She scrapes the eggs into a ceramic serving bowl. There must be a dozen scrambled eggs in there, all mixed in with her secret spice, which we all know is really just dill.

We set the table and bring the food over. Dad sits at the head of the table, reading the paper and squinting hard. Mom tries to tell him to get his eyes checked out, but he refuses. Everything has to be his idea or it’s not worth entertaining.

Four empty chairs take up the space across from Bellamy and me. We had to make room for the fourth one. It’s a tight squeeze, but we made it work. It just means the twins will have to sit closer together, which should be fine because they’re pretty much inseparable.

“Sorry we’re late.” We all glance up to the doorway where Kath ushers in her kids like a mother goose and her goslings, only one of the goslings is dark and huge and stands out like a sore thumb against the bland Americana we have going on in the Miller household. “Everyone, this is Jensen.”

Summer’s kids, Justice, Honor, and True, stare at him with blank faces. Mark folds his paper, Summer offers a distracted “good morning,” and Mom welcomes him into the main house.

He doesn’t say anything, only nods. His eyes are mildly swollen with dark purple rings underneath them. There’s a gash on his cheek that’s begun to scab over. Even with his face all mangled, it’s plain to see he’s attractive. I forget to breathe for a second and snap myself out of it with a giant gulp of orange juice.