Chapter 1 — The Wedding

Sophia's POV:

I couldn't believe she was making me go to her wedding! My mother was getting married. How many kids could say they were invited to their own parent's wedding? Well, apparently I could.

The name was Sophia. I was sixteen, and it felt like my life had just ended. My mother, who had been a single mother her whole life, had now decided that she'd had enough with the single life and wanted to get married. Yay for her.

I was not against her having a life or getting laid. God knew she needed it. I was objecting to her dragging me halfway across the country.

I was a city girl, born and raised in LA. I didn't do country. The forest didn't appeal me. I didn't even like the snow. Okay, I'd never seen it before, but that didn't mean I was missing much.

Today was the cursed day: her wedding. I hardly knew her new husband. It had apparently been love at first sight. She told me it was meant to be. She told me all the time not to rush into a relationship, yet she was marrying someone she had just met.

And that wasn't even the worst part. He has five kids—five sons, to be exact. I was used to having my own bathroom and not sharing. How was I supposed to live with five stepbrothers?

Not one, not two, but five! The youngest was fourteen, meaning they were all teenagers. God, why was life so cruel to my poor soul?

Mom didn't wanna wear a big white dress, just a simple sundress. She had some light makeup on, and she looked beautiful.

She had long jet-black hair, brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face. I, on the other hand, got my looks from my dad, her high school sweetheart. My hair was practically white. No, I was not into the silver trend. That was just how I was born. My eyes were hazel, and I was pale compared to her olive skin, which always looked tanned and healthy.

Thankfully, Mom never hated me for looking like him. She never called me a mistake or a regret. She loved me. I was Mommy's little girl—or at least, I used to be. As I grew older, more and more people thought we were friends, not mother and daughter, which was okay with me.

My mom was my only friend. She was my secret keeper, even for the embarrassing ones. When I got too scared or stressed, I mentally became a Little to help me. My Little age was about three, maybe four. I never regressed too much, and Mom never hated me for it. She took care of me—even Little me.

Now that we were moving—did I mention we were moving? Well, let me say it again: we were FUCKING MOVING—across the country. I didn't think I'd be able to be Little me again.

The new town we were heading to wasn't LA. Everyone knew each other there. The school was simple, just two buildings, and everyone had been together since kindergarten.

And here I came, the new girl. I hated being new. I might not look it, but I was really shy, especially around new people and new faces.

"Sophia, it's time to go," my mom yelled from downstairs. I could hear how happy she was.

I was only doing this for her. Once I hit eighteen, I was moving back to LA, to my life.

I did a last check of the room before I left. Everything had been packed away in boxes and loaded into the van—everything except for my personal items: my iPad, phone, charger, earphones, and of course, my teddy bear. He'd be too scared if he had to sit alone in the van the whole way there.

I put him in my backpack and left the room, saying goodbye to my old and only bedroom.

I went downstairs and got in the car with Fred, my new stepfather. It was just him, Mom, and me. We had an appointment at the church so they could be married. Then, we were off on the road to our new home.

I was dressed for the occasion in a baby blue sundress and some flats. I couldn't walk in heels to save my life. Even Fredric was dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt, his tattoos showing all over his hands and neck.

Who knew my mom would go for the tattooed, bad-looking guy? But I'd give it to her—even for a guy in his forties, he was in very good shape with strong muscles.

He was also twice my height. Mom was taller than me by a few inches, but I hardly reached his chest. I still had two years to gain some height, or so my doctor said.

The ceremony was fast and straight to the point—just, "I announce you husband and wife." They didn't even get to the you-may-kiss-the-bride part. We just left.

I got in the back of the SUV and put my earphones in. Music on, world off.

I must've dosed off for a bit since I was shaken awake by my mother. Had we made it already?

We were at a restaurant for an early dinner since we'd be driving through the night. I didn't appreciate my nap being cut short, so I was grumpy in the restaurant.

Nothing looked appealing to me, so I just shrugged and let my new "dad" choose for me.

I nibbled a bit at my food and drank my Pepsi until they were finally done and we could leave.

"You hardly ate anything, Soph," Fredric commented.

"Not hungry," I just mumbled.

"It's a long way home," he warned me, and I just shrugged.

We got back in the car, and I fell asleep again with my earphones in.

I was actually comfortable in the silent car, and I had nice dreams until I felt us stop.

There was the sound of a car door opening and closing and then some murmuring.

Finally, I was picked up out of the car by a pair of strong hands, probably Fred's. For some reason, he sniffed me and growled. I must be dreaming, right?