The Holiday Trap Read Online Roan Parrish

Categories Genre: GLBT, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
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Greta felt like her guts were turning inside out.

“Fuck. Carys, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I honestly was trying to take care of you. I didn’t think about it that way at all. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks for saying that. This is, like, a thing you do. You know? You try to take care in the ways that you assume someone might want. But those gestures are about your assumptions and not about the person you want to take care of.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Like with the ice cream the other day—you did the same thing. So I’m telling you: when I say I want something, that’s what I want. When I say I don’t want something, I don’t mean that you should go behind my back and do it anyway because secretly I do want it. Okay?”

Greta’s stomach flipped. When Carys put it that way, what she’d done sounded absolutely horrible. Then another even more horrible thought dawned on her.

“Oh my god, I’m my mother. Fuck! This is exactly what she does! She thinks she knows what all of us actually need, and she just does it. I’m… Oh my god.”

Greta shoved her hands in her hair and fisted it. Was this how it happened? Was it impossible to escape her family even seventeen hundred miles away? She hadn’t even realized her own thought process, but she had done the exact opposite of what Carys had asked and hadn’t even noticed. How? How was it possible?

She dropped to the couch like a stone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she said, horrified. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Carys’ expression had softened considerably. She laid a hand, palm up, on Greta’s knee, and Greta took it, squeezing her fingers tightly.

“Thank you. I accept your apology, and we’re all good. Just keep it in mind in the future, okay?”

Greta nodded avidly, thinking hard.

“God, now all I can think of is what other, like, grenades are buried in my brain just waiting to explode parent-ness all over you. I mean…um…all over…people. People I’m in relationships with,” she amended awkwardly.

Carys smiled. “I’m sure they’re in there. Lord knows we all have them.”

Greta bit her lip. “That was a fight, right? We just had a fight. But we’re…okay?”

“We had a talk about a thing that happened that I didn’t like and won’t accept,” Carys said. “Is that a fight?”

“The word doesn’t matter, I guess. Just…you were so calm.”

Carys blew out a breath, curls lifting. “Yeah, well. Lots of therapy. Also, did I mention therapy?”

Greta smiled, settling into the couch more comfortably.

“My mom is totally activated by any emotion, so I guess I prefer conflict that’s the opposite of the way it goes with her.”

“And the other thing?” Greta prompted.

“Hmm?”

“Are we…okay?”

Carys looked her in the eyes and nodded. “We’re okay. But I wanna be really clear. Apologies only mean something to me if behavior changes. So we’re okay. But if this keeps happening after we’ve discussed it, I won’t be.”

Greta swallowed hard. It sounded so threatening.

Then she stopped herself. No, not threatening. Honest. Clear. Straightforward. Neutral. Greta was the one who was thinking about threats and ultimatums. Of course an apology didn’t mean shit if you kept doing the thing you apologized for.

“Got it. I’m going to try really hard. But if it seems like maybe it’s happening again, do you think—I mean, could you—or…” She stopped, trying to find a way to express herself without being like Help me not hurt you.

“Yes, if I see you unconsciously acting out patterns of socialization ingrained in you by your family of origin, I will point them out and suggest that you contemplate applying critical thinking to the situation.” Carys grinned and stuck out her tongue. “How’s that shit for therapy?”

Greta was too grateful even to laugh. “Very impressive. Thank you.”

“And I know it’s hard for you, but you can just say what you want too,” Carys said. “I’ll always respect it.”

Greta was propelled to her feet. She began to pace the living room. Carys looked up at her.

“I can,” Greta said. “I can.”

“It takes some practice if you’re not used to it. I really get that,” Carys said sympathetically.

“It’s so wild, because I know that I could just say what I wanted. But it feels so rude or selfish or something. But then I’m like, why on earth would it be selfish to ask for what you want? It’s not like you’re putting a gun to someone’s head and making them do it if they don’t want to. Right? Like, how fucked up is it that in my family, people don’t ask for what they want, and they do the opposite of what people say because they know no one is asking for what they actually want? What the hell?”

Carys nodded the instantly recognizable nod of someone who has been through the same process of coming to understand. “It’s so real. Families have these whole cultures of communication, and when you’re in it, it’s totally normal. Bonus points if it happens to work for everyone in that family. But it’s often not transferable across family lines. Like, when I started college, I assumed that anyone who asked me about myself would use that information against me someday. So to avoid it, I would lie and tell them stuff that wasn’t true, so when they inevitably tried to mess with me because of it, it wouldn’t hurt me. Needless to say, I spent my first couple years of college without any friends, because I just didn’t trust anyone or connect with them legitimately.”


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