He Called Me His

Chapter Five: The Claim.

The photo appeared online before either of us even knew it existed — Xavier and me on the porch, hands laced together, caught in a moment that needed no caption to be understood exactly for what it was.

Sasha hadn't posted it herself. She was smarter than that, I'd learn later — she'd simply made sure it reached exactly the right person, someone with enough followers and enough malice to make sure the entire school saw it before either of us woke up the next morning.

I found out at my locker, three separate people showing me their phones before I'd even had coffee, my own face staring back at me from a screen, captured in a moment I'd believed was private.

Xavier found me moments later, his own phone already in hand, his expression carved from something dangerously close to fury.

"I know who did this," he said grimly. "I'm going to—"

"Don't," I said quickly, panic rising in my throat. "Whatever you're about to do, don't. It'll just make this worse. My mom is going to see this, Xavier. Your dad is going to see this. We need to figure out what we're going to say before that happens, not add more fuel to it."

He forced himself to still, though I could see the effort it cost him. "You're right," he admitted. "I'm sorry. I just hate that Sasha thinks she has the right to do this to you."

"To us," I corrected quietly.

Something shifted in his expression at that — a fierce, possessive warmth that momentarily overrode his anger. "To us," he agreed.

We didn't get the chance to prepare. By the time we made it home that afternoon, both our parents were already waiting in the living room, phones in hand, expressions carved from a devastating mixture of hurt and confusion that made my stomach twist violently.

"Someone sent me this today," my mother said quietly, holding up her phone, the photo unmistakable even at a distance. "I need you to explain it to me, Ivy. Right now."

I opened my mouth, some half-formed lie already forming, when Xavier stepped forward beside me, his voice steady despite everything.

"It's not what it looks like on the surface," he said, "but I'm not going to lie to either of you either. Something is happening between Ivy and me. I don't fully understand it myself yet, and I know the timing is a nightmare, and I know this isn't what either of you wanted for this family. But I'm not going to pretend it isn't real just because it's inconvenient."

The room went utterly silent. Richard looked at his son like he was seeing him for the first time in years. My mother looked at me with an expression I couldn't fully read — hurt, yes, but something else beneath it too, something almost like fear.

"You're stepsiblings," my mother said finally, her voice tight. "Do you understand what people will say? What this could do to this family, to your reputations, to everything we've been trying to build?"

"I understand it perfectly," I said, surprising myself with how steady my own voice came out. "I understand it better than anyone, Mom, because I'm the one who's had to hear the whispers every single day at school. But I also can't keep lying about something that's actually real just because it's easier for everyone else to pretend it isn't."

Richard finally spoke, his voice quieter than I expected. "How long has this been happening?"

"Not long," Xavier said honestly. "Weeks, maybe. It wasn't something either of us planned or wanted, if that helps. It just... happened, the more time we spent together."

The silence that followed felt endless, thick with everything none of us knew how to say yet. Finally, my mother stood, exhausted, rubbing her temples like she was trying to physically push away a headache that had nothing to do with pain.

"I need time to think about this," she said. "Both of you — please, just, give us some space to process it. We'll talk more this weekend, once emotions have settled."

We nodded, retreating to our separate rooms in heavy, unresolved silence, the weight of everything we'd just admitted settling over the entire house like a held breath.

Xavier found me later that night, slipping quietly into the hallway outside my door.

"That could have gone worse," he said, attempting lightness that didn't quite land.

"It could have gone a lot better too," I said honestly. "Xavier, what if this actually breaks up their marriage? What if my mom decides this family isn't worth the scandal, and we have to move again, and I lose the first stable home I've had in years — because of this?"

He stepped closer, taking my face gently between his hands, an intimacy that felt entirely different from anything we'd shared before — steadier, more certain.

"Then we'll face that too," he said quietly. "Together. I'm not going anywhere, Ivy. Whatever happens with our parents, whatever the school says, whatever Sasha tries next — you're mine now. I should have said it plainly a long time ago instead of dancing around it. You're mine, and I'm not backing down from that, no matter how complicated it gets."

The words landed somewhere deep in my chest, terrifying and thrilling in equal measure — the exact kind of undeniable claim I'd been half-expecting, half-dreading since that very first night in the kitchen.

"Say it again," I whispered, unable to stop myself.

"You're mine," he said again, softer this time, his forehead resting against mine. "For as long as you'll let me be yours too."

I didn't have words for what I felt in that moment — only the certainty, terrifying and absolute, that whatever came next, there was no version of this story anymore where I simply walked away from him to protect myself the way I'd always protected myself before.

I didn't yet know that our parents' weekend conversation would end in an ultimatum neither of us was prepared for — one that would force us to choose, publicly and irreversibly, exactly how far we were willing to go for each other.