Chapter 15
Fifteen
I slam my hand down on the alarm's snooze button.
It's been two days—two of the longest days of my life.
Ryland walked out of my door Saturday morning, and I locked myself in my room. I wrapped myself in the uniform jacket he left on my chair, enveloped in his scent and cried. For the first two days, I couldn't eat. I was so sick with a broken heart. All I wanted to do was uncontrollably cry and sleep, praying for a short reprieve from the pain.
At first, I’m surprised to discover that the ache in my chest is a dull throbbing. I was sure that a hurt like this would take years to subside enough to function. But as I roll out of bed, I discover I have a new view on things. I am pissed.
Ryland made a decision for me that I didn't want. There was no real conversation about my feelings or if I really wanted to live the life he felt like I should. He made an assumption and left me with the repercussions of it. He didn’t even look back as he walked out the door. Never have I ever been so angry with him.
The anger is what fuels me as I prepare for the day. It’s the reason I get dressed and why I arrive at work early. I’m an hour into my shift and halfway through the pile of papers on my desk when the door to the President's office opens.
Ridge emerges and says, “I'll see you at dinner tomorrow night.”
“That’s right. Stay safe today, son,” the president’s disembodied voice says.
“Will do, Dad.” Ridge stops in his tracks and tilts his head to the side when he finds me sitting at my desk. “That moonshine did a number on you, didn't it?”
I force a smile. “I'm a lightweight, but I managed through the fiasco.”
“Are you sure? You don’t look well.”
I reach for a file in the cabinet next to me, hiding my face as I answer, “I'm fine.”
“Look, if you're still mad at me for the thing with Shaw, I'm sorry. If I knew you would get that upset about it, I’d have waited until I saw him later to address it.”
“It's not that. I'm not mad about it anymore. I'm fine.” I busy myself with the computer.
He lightly rests his hands on mine, stopping me from typing and forcing me to pay attention to him. “Why do I feel like saying you're fine means anything but that?”
“I'm trying to be fine.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from breaking down. I hate this. I cry when I'm sad, and I cry when I'm mad, and now I want to cry because I have to confront what has made me an emotional wreck in the first place.
“What's going on with you?” Ridge asks, his brows knitting together.
And the waterworks let loose for what feels like the hundredth time.
I brush the moisture away with the back of my fingers, trying to save my makeup from running. “Ryland and I got into a fight and are on a break.”
“Because of Friday night?”
I shake my head. “That was the catalyst that started it all, but it wasn't the reason. He thinks I need to go out and sow my wild oats or some stupid shit like that.”
“He might have a point.” Ridge shrugs.
“You're not helping,” I snap.
“No, hear me out. How do you know you want to be tied down to him forever? You told me during your interview that you had only met him a few months ago. You never got to go to college or even experience being a carefree adult. Maybe you’ll discover there is someone else out there for you.”
“If you're going to ask me out on a date, the answer is no.”
He curls his lip and vigorously shakes his head. “No, not me. All I'm saying is you should go live it up a little. Make sure he's the one. It sounds to me that he's giving something up for your happiness.”
I throw my hands up, frustrated that another person thinks this is the right thing to do. “He's a significant source of my happiness, so how does that work?”
“If it helps, I'm sure he's miserable without you.” He pushes away from my desk. “I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow night at Mom’s and Dad's house for dinner.”
For the first time in days, I smile. “I'll see you then.”
I was dreading going to the dinner alone—the awkward conversations and a long, drawn-out night with people I really didn't know. Now, I'll have someone to help me get through it. At least there's one positive thing happening in my life.
I spend the rest of the day thinking about what Ridge said about Ryland. I thought it must be easier for him. After all, he's the one who pulled away. No matter how hard I try, I don’t get it. Why end things if we're both going to be unhappy?
By the time my workday is done, I’m no closer to finding the answer. Part of me thinks all of this has to be a misunderstanding. It’s not until I pass the park and see the spot under our tree empty that I know Ryland has no intention of rectifying this with me.
I wonder if he's eating dinner alone or if he's hanging out with the rest of the boys. I know if I were him, I’d be eating with my friends. Things were so much easier when we all lived under one roof. Not once did I feel lonely. Someone was always there even if we only sat in silence. Never did I think I’d miss being outside of these walls, but I do.
The house is quiet when I get home. It’s not surprising. Since I’ve been having dinner with Ryland in the park, River has a nightly date with Noah. So, I warm up some leftovers in the microwave and sit on the couch in front of the television. I don't comprehend what I'm watching and the food I'm chewing has no taste. It feels like I’m running on autopilot.
River bursts through the front door with bags in her arms. Her attention falls on me and she says, “Shit. I tried really hard to beat you home.”
“Why?”
“I thought we'd have a girls' night. I bought takeout and a pint of ice cream to share.”
“You wanted to eat with me?”
She unloads the food. “Yeah, there's this cute little place Noah and I go to all the time. I thought you might like it.”
I set my tasteless food on the coffee table. “I'm surprised you're not off with him.”
She shrugs. “I figured it would be fun to spend a night with you.”
“You know, don't you?” I ask.
River sits next to me, placing a white cardboard box with orange chicken inside in my hands. “I know. Ryland told Aiden, who told Wes, and he told Noah last night. They're all worried about you.”
“Is Ryland worried about me?”
“I think he's just trying not to think about it. No one has really seen him. He's requested extra duty.”
I take a bite of chicken and swallow it along with the lump in my throat. “Do you think if I go to him he'll talk to me?”
She shakes her head. “He's dead set on giving you some space. Plus, finding him is next to impossible. The boys only see him when he comes home to sleep and before he leaves for work. I heard Wes say something about him having a guard shift at the park tomorrow night if that helps.”
I lean back on the couch and sigh in frustration. “Awesome. The only night anyone knows where to find him is the one night I have plans I can't get out of.”
“Sorry, Quinn,” she says, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me to her until my head rests on her shoulder.
She stays the whole evening, eating ice cream and watching movies with me. When it's time to call it a night, she crawls into bed with me. We lay side by side staring at the ceiling and talking until we drift off.
The following day is a blur until the moment I'm standing outside of the Spencer residence, knocking on the door. The house is enormous and totally excessive for living inside of a mountain—a multilevel white facade, Greek pillars, and hanging light fixtures. It is unlike any other living quarters in the Sanctuary.
A man dressed in a suit and tie answers the door and leads me through the foyer. The décor is exquisite with hand-painted vases, fresh flowers, and crystal chandeliers. A spiraling staircase with iron railing splits the house in half. We turn to the right and enter through tall doors to the family room. The President sits in a white wing-back chair while Ridge and a pretty middle-aged woman share the couch across from him. Each of them looks pristine, dressed in their semi-formal attire.
The men stand and the President says, “Quinnten, I'm so glad you could join us.”
I wipe my sweaty hands on the skirt of my knee-length blue dress. “Thank you for inviting me.”
President Spencer guides me by the elbow to the woman seated on the couch. Her dark red hair is twisted into a sophisticated updo, and her designer dress is tailored for her slender frame, very reminiscent of presidents’ wives from the past.
“Quinnten Ellery, this is my wife, Jacqueline Spencer. And of course, you know our son, Ridge.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you.” I reach out to shake her hand, but she doesn't budge.
“Yes.” She nods, without making eye contact with me.
I draw my hand back and give her a tight smile before looking away.
Ridge pulls me to his side for a quick hug. “You look lovely as always, Quinn.”
“Thank you,” I say with a blush.
“The staff should be finishing up with dinner. Shall we make our way to the dining room?” President Spencer asks.
We enter the elegant, formal dining area that can comfortably seat a dozen people. Candles in crystal holders are lit on the tabletop and gold-rimmed plates and silverware line the sides. We take our seats at the far end with President Spencer at the head, Ridge and me on one side, and Jacqueline on the other. The waiting staff serves us while the family talks about their day. I take in their interaction and chime in where I can. It's a little difficult to engage in the discussions since I don't know them, but it’s only slightly uncomfortable.
After the soup is served, President Spencer says, “How do you like it here, Quinnten?”
I swallow the warm, salty liquid before answering, “I'm surprised it's so normal. On our way here, we ran into communities that had resorted to awful practices.”
“Yes, well, it is important for a society to have a firm set of rules which allow all its people to function for the betterment of it,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
I pray that he doesn't engage me in a political conversation. My parents raised me to have the heart for social issues, but the ins and outs of the government have never been my thing.
To my relief, he continues with another line of questioning. “And your living quarters, are they suitable?”
“Of course, they're better than I expected. The house is beautiful.”
“Where exactly are your quarters located?” Jacqueline asks before taking a sip of her wine.
I’m surprised by her question, but not by the expressionless look on her face. This is nothing but polite conversation for her.
“We're close to here. My cousin and I have a two-bedroom house at the end of Fifth Street.”
The President's wife purses her lips and her face turns red. I shift in my chair, bracing myself for whatever has upset her. She never gets the chance to voice it because the main course is brought to the table.
I gaze at my plate—tender meat bedded on a heap of mashed potatoes and garnished with a colorful fruit dressing. The meal is another unnecessary luxury in this house. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to eat it. The food is perfect, like a piece of art that smells amazing.
“Did you come here straight from the northern region?” Ridge asks.
“No, we traveled to the Oscuros land crossing first.”
“Why would you go there?” Jacqueline looks repulsed. It's the first genuine emotion I've seen from her.
“The men I was traveling with are from Giran. They were hoping to seek asylum in Oscuros and return home.”
“And they're here, in the Sanctuary?” she presses.
I'm grateful that she's showing some interest in what I'm saying. I was believing this whole night was going to be a bust and it would affect my standing at work. Besides, I enjoy talking about the events that brought us here. They are some of the happiest moments I’ve had since the Affliction.
“Yes, ma'am,” I say.
She shoots her husband a sideways glance, but he ignores her and continues to eat his meal. Again, I’ve seemed to say something that upsets her. I look to Ridge for answers, but he's oblivious to what's going on.
“And are you single, Quinn?” The way she asks is strange—her voice saccharine, like she is luring something out of me.
“I—”
“Mom.” Ridge says, “That's sort of a personal question to ask someone you just met, don't you think?”
“Nonsense,” she brushes him off with a flick of her wrist. “It is just some friendly girl talk.”
“Jacqueline,” her husband warns, glaring at her under hooded eyes.
The tension in the room is thick, and I want it to dissipate as soon as possible, so I intervene, “It's all right. I'll answer. I'm sort of with one of the men I arrived with. We're kind of on a hiatus right now though.”
“One of the Giran boys?” she asks, her voice an octave higher.
“Yes, ma'am.” I can't hide the worry in my tone. She is stressing me out.
“Jacqueline, that is enough!” President Spencer says, pounding his fist on the table.
I sit my fork down and look away, wishing I could make myself small and skitter out of this house.
Jacqueline stands, her hands braced on each side of her plate. “Why, William? Because you want me to pretend this is no big deal? That I'm okay with the fact you gave our daughter's house to her .” She points at me.
Right away, my mind drifts to the clothes inside my closet with all the designer labels. They were never meant for me; they were her daughter's. I have an overwhelming urge to apologize and explain how I didn't know the house belonged to their daughter, but I don't get the chance.
“Mother, sit down,” Ridge demands.
“No, I won't pretend this is all right. Kennedy is not here because she fell in love with someone your father didn't approve of.” She turns to her husband, her eyes boring into him. “Tell me, William, why are you so accepting of this behavior from your mistress's daughter but not from mine?”
My head whips side to side as I watch the scene unfolding before me. Crazy accusations spew from Jacqueline's mouth, but they don't quite make sense. William jumps to his feet and tries to pull her from the room, but she fights him off.
Her deep brown eyes bore into me, and with pure disgust, she spits, “You knew, didn't you? You knew William was your father, and that's why you're here. You want to take her place, but you won't. Cassidy was nothing but a slut, a home-wrecking slut. She knew she couldn't have him, and that’s why she ran away with you.”
I swear someone just punched me in the stomach, knocking all the air out of my lungs. Jacqueline knows my mother’s name. In what feels like slow motion, I stand and say, “I have to go.”
I push away from the table, and the drag in time lets go of its hold on me. My feet move at normal speed as I rush out of the dining room, heading for the foyer. My sweaty hands slip on the doorknob, taking me a couple of tries to get it to turn before the door opens, and I race from the house.
“Quinn! Quinn, wait,” Ridge calls from behind me. I get past the front lawn when he grabs my upper arm, bringing me to a stop. His forehead wrinkles and his mouth pulls into a frown. “Don't run. Let us explain.”
I'm not sure why I don't snatch my arm away and get the hell out of there. Maybe it's so he can tell me his mother is crazy. Maybe she got ahold of my file and that's how she knew about my mom. If anything, I want him to tell me this is all a mistake, but he says, “I'm sorry you had to find out like this. We wanted to ease you into it.”
“What?” I croak. No, this can’t be right.
What are the chances of me running into my biological father? I probably have a better chance of being hit by lightning. This is all a sick joke.
William steps up behind Ridge, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I've got this, son. Go into the house and take care of your mother.”
With a hesitant nod, Ridge squeezes my arm and walks away, leaving me alone with his father.
“I apologize for Jacqueline. That's not how we wanted you to find out, Quinnten,” he says.
I shake my head. “I don't understand. This doesn't make sense. How do you know I'm your daughter?”
“When you arrived, we drew your blood. We run extensive tests on every resident of the Sanctuary and matched your DNA to the government's identification files, making sure you are who you say you are. We can't risk letting someone into our fold who will do us harm or defeat our purpose. Your DNA is a match, and it is conclusive, you're my and Cassidy's daughter.”
He gives me a moment to let his revelation sink in. I want to laugh and cry at the same time—to simply fall into hysterics. What are the chances that I'd find my estranged father, and of all places, here? This can't be real.
As I battle with my thoughts, William ushers me back to the steps leading to the front door of the house and eases me down beside him. “Over twenty years ago, Cassidy interned for me while in college. She was smart, beautiful, and passionate about her studies and work. It was easy to fall in love with her.”
My head whips in his direction, and my jaw loses its ability to close. I always knew the story behind how I was conceived was not rainbows and flowers. Amara and Josh were forthcoming with a ton of information about my mother, but when it came to my father, they were hesitant to give me much. I had pieced together that my mom may have been involved with a married man, but I never expected it to be a public figure.
He takes the silence as his cue to continue with his side of the story, saying, “I panicked when I found out she was pregnant. It was my first term as a region representative, and I had a wife and two small children. If news like that got out, it would have ruined me. I offered your mother the funds she would need to raise you, but I could not promise to be there. I made a mistake.”
Mistake? No. He was stupid.
My fists clench and I hiss, “She wouldn't have wanted that for me. She didn't need a sperm donor who paid her hush money, William. My mom was better than that.”
“I know, and I wish I could tell her I'm sorry.” He sounds sincere, but sincerity won't change the fact that my mom will never hear his apology.
“Well, you can't because she was scared and alone, and she didn't get the care she needed when she was pregnant with me. She's dead. You can't tell her you're sorry, the same way I can never hug her and tell her I love her.”
He bows his head, and I pray it's in shame. He deserves every negative emotion he feels for what he did to her. I'm sure he made her promises—sweet words to get her to return his affections. When it all went sour, he left her with no choice but to go back to her family and raise her baby alone. He's nothing more than a coward.
I get to my feet, squaring my shoulders. “I didn't come here looking for my father. I already have a man who loves me like his own daughter. I'm here because my family and I are seeking refuge from the Affliction, and that's it.”
He covers his mouth with his fist and clears his throat. “I understand.”
“Good.” I flinch at my pathetic rebuttal as I turn my back to him, leaving him on the front steps of his perfect house, with his perfect wife, and their perfect child.
When I'm out of William's sight, I break into a run, sprinting toward the park and the one person I need the most. Tears stream from my eyes as hiccupped sobs escape from my mouth. I look around for him, half-tempted to call out his name, but I don't want to scare any of the children with the sound of my hysterical cries. The only thing I want right now is my true home—the place where I feel safe and loved. I need Ryland.
I barrel around the small building housing the restrooms and plow into a solid form. It takes less than a second to register it's him. My arms encircle his waist, pulling him tightly to me.
My heavy sadness bears down on me full force. I weep for my mom and her stupid mistake that cost her life. I'm angry at the man who helped put her in that situation in the first place and the selfishness he showed toward her and his family. And I'm overjoyed that the one person I need right now has taken me into his arms.
“Shh. I got you, love.” He walks us back into the shadows of the building before taking my face into his hands, lifting it so he can see my eyes. “Are you all right? What happened, Quinn?”
“I need you to hold me. Don't let me go. Don't push me away, just hold me. All I want is to be with you. I love you, and I don't want to waste another minute we have together. Promise me you won't push me away, please Ryland.” It's a cluster of words—random mumblings I make through every hyperventilating breath I take. I'm not sure if he even understands what I'm asking for.
He pulls me into a tight hug again. “I promise. I won't let you go.”
With my face covered in tears, I look at him. “I want to stay here with you.”
His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of what's going on. “I have guard duty all night, and you have to get some sleep.”
I shake my head. “I don't want to go to sleep unless you're with me. I'll keep you company.”
He smiles sadly at me. “If that’s what you need, I’ll give it to you.”
With the sleeve of his jacket, he wipes the tears from my eyes before taking it off and wrapping it around my shoulders. He holds my hand while we walk around the park. He doesn’t push or make the silence awkward. He just waits for me to open up. And when I do, it’s like a flash flood. He makes no attempts to stop it, but simply listens until I come to the end of my story. Then he takes me in his arms and lets me cry again.
I feel like I’m losing control. My world has been turned upside down, and I'm scrambling to find at least one solid thing to hold on to.
It isn’t just the earth-shattering news that William is my biological father. My breakup with Ryland has thrown my world off-kilter.
I pride myself on the strength that I’ve shown throughout the Affliction. River and I depended only on each other for so long. But this is bigger than having just one person support me, especially when she is busy building her new life. I can't do this all alone.
And my fragile heart can't take much more. My heart, which belongs to Ryland. Even now, he's the steady foundation holding me together when I'm crumbling to pieces. Without him, I'm in complete disarray with no clue how to reassemble myself.
When the sun rises over the park, Ryland walks me home. He helps me out of my dress and tucks me into bed. Not needing me to ask, he removes everything but his pants and climbs in next to me. He pulls me to his chest holding me tight. This is my safe place. He is my safe place. And after days of heartache, I'm able to find a little peace despite the war raging inside of me.