All Chapters of The Ties The Bond Us: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Okay, so I officially hated Conan’s mom. Every time she showed up, he went back into that cold, detached, blank-faced mode like she flipped a switch inside him—and it pissed me off. But I didn’t know if I had a say in cutting off his family. I shouldn’t have bought her that bracele. That was my mistake. She was already shameless enough barging into my house like she owned it, but when she spotted an unopened bottle of imported wine on the shelf and claimed it as part of her son’s “dowry,” I almost bit my own tongue in half. “Such a nice gift,” she admired the bracelet while twirling the wine bottle in her hands like a prize trophy as we drove her back to her place. “Oh, and it looks like dinner’s going to be served in a bit. As I mentioned, you two should come sit for a meal.” I glanced over at Conan in the passenger seat. He gave a small nod. He didn’t look thrilled about it, but I could feel it—he wanted to see this through. Should I deny it anyway? Would that ruin the progress

Back in elementary school, Conan and I were absolutely inseparable. We ran through the forest trails together like wild things, digging up hidden treasures, daring each other to leap over creeks, shouting until our voices cracked. We were just kids then—two halves of the same whole, no roles, no ranks. Just siblings. But things changed. Slowly at first. Then all at once. I was the social one. People liked being around me. I could make them laugh, keep their attention. I liked the spotlight—it made me feel important, seen. And when I started presenting early as an alpha in fifth grade, everything escalated. I wasn't just Esme anymore—I was the Esme. The alpha girl with a future. The one teachers praised openly, who other kids looked to for leadership. Conan? He didn't manifest anything. He started lagging behind—not academically, but socially. He kept to himself. I tried to bring him along, but he didn't try. He didn't speak. I stopped bothering. There was one moment I can't un-hea

I was already pissed. Conan wouldn't let me go inside the restaurant with them. I wanted to—hell, I should have. I could feel it in my bones: things were going to go sideways the moment Esme opened her mouth. Donovan being a cheating snake? Yeah, not surprising. What was surprising was that Conan felt the need to get involved. This whole damn mess—Esme, Donovan, that cursed bracelet—I didn't get his logic. Wasn't this just keeping them in our lives? I don't understand his thinking sometimes. I shifted in my seat, restless, until I saw a blur of motion through the windshield—Conan, Esme, and Donovan all running from the restaurant. Yep. Shit's officially going down. I got out of the car and jogged after them. They split, of course. Esme went one way, but Donovan... he followed Conan. Oh hell no. I sped up, feet pounding against the pavement, heart thudding. But just before I reached them, I slowed. Conan led Donovan into a side street—no, a narrow alley. A dead end. Was he sett

I’m such an asshole. All I wanted was to get an answer, not scare Conan until he broke down in front of me. I didn’t expect tears. Not from him. But once they came, I didn’t let go. I just held him, arms wrapped tight around his trembling shoulders, rubbing circles into his back until the sobs faded into hiccups and silence. Now, sitting beside him on the couch, I handed him a glass of water. “Feeling better?” He sniffled, clearly embarrassed as he took it. “Yeah…” “Why were you crying like that?” I asked softly. “Was it me?” “No… it’s just…” His words trailed off as more tears welled up. He bit his lip, clearly trying to hold them back. His little scrunched-up face made something in my chest squeeze tight. “Here, use this.” I passed him some napkins. He nodded, blowing his nose, avoiding my eyes. I didn’t push. Not yet. “I must be overwhelming you,” I said instead. “Things did move at lightning speed between us. It probably freaks you out a bit, huh?” He didn’t answer. “Do

I hated this place. I hated everything about it. The bland scent of antiseptic, the too-bright lighting, and the whisper of worried voices in sterile halls. But what I hated more than anything was the fact that Conan—my Conan—was here. In the maternity ward. Without telling me a goddamn thing. I would’ve missed it if Charlie hadn’t pushed me to keep that tracking app. I almost deleted it last week, figuring Conan’s daily park-to-home loop was harmless. But today, his route changed. And that alone had me tearing down the road like my tail was on fire. The moment I stormed into the clinic, I was met by some receptionist who tried to stop me. “Sir, we’re not taking walk-ins—” I ignored her. My eyes had already landed on Conan’s jacket slung over the waiting room chair. Then I saw him. That damn human. I spotted Conan standing beside him just as a doctor stepped out, calling, “Conan Moss!” “Fuck, he really came,” Conan muttered. The human beside him chuckled nervously. “Damn. Righ