Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
HANNAH
Remus dumps me on Mom’s back porch like I’m a package he’s delivering, and honestly? That’s probably the most honest interaction I’m going to have all day.
I immediately press my hand to my stomach. Whatever happens next, I’m not raising a child around that level of violence. I don’t care if it comes out with wings and fangs—it’s still mine, and I’ll protect it. Even from its father if I have to.
“What is this place?” Remus eyes Mom’s little suburban house with obvious disdain.
“My mom’s house,” I say, pulling the ancient apron tighter around myself.
“I’ll wait in the trees until you come to your senses.” He steps off the porch with that predatory grace they all have.
“Don’t waste your time. I’m not going back.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Don’t go back then. Come with me instead. Be my consort. We’ll raise the kid together.”
I almost choke. “Yeah, right.” I try to laugh it off because surely he’s joking.
But suddenly he’s right in my face again, that manic grin spreading wide. “Excellent! I’ll make you a perfect nest while we wait for the baby.”
“I was kidding because I thought you were!” I shove him away. “Jesus Christ, Remus. I’m a pissed-off pregnant woman, and if you try to kidnap me, I will find a way to end you in your sleep.”
His grin gets wider. “You’re only making me want you more.”
Of course, he’d be into that. I roll my eyes and head for the door. “Thanks for the ride,” I toss over my shoulder before slamming it shut.
“Who’s there?” Mom calls from the living room, startled.
“It’s me, Mom.” I head toward her voice, bracing myself for whatever reaction awaits.
She’s on the couch where she always is, TV remote in hand. But she’s not alone.
Drew is sitting there like he owns the place. What on Earth is he doing here?
I freeze in the doorway as Mom jumps up and rushes over, her eyes scanning me from head to toe with obvious confusion.
“Hannah? What are you wearing?” Then her eyes widen as she really looks at me. “Oh my God.” Her voice breaks. “I can’t believe it worked. You’re... you’re actually beautiful.”
The words hit me like a slap. Actually beautiful. Like I wasn’t before.
She pulls me into a hug, and for one pathetic moment, I let myself feel the approval I’ve craved my entire life. But when she pulls back, her eyes glistening with joy, the next words out of her mouth destroy any warmth I might have felt.
“You and Drew are going to have such a perfect life together now. Thank God.”
My heart shrivels. This woman who gave birth to me could never see the person I was inside. She only ever saw my disability as something broken that needed fixing before I could be worthy of love.
“But I don’t understand—how?” she asks, still staring at my straight spine like it’s a miracle.
Before I can answer, Drew is there, wrapping his arms around me in a possessive hug that makes my skin crawl.
“None of that matters. She’s home where she belongs.” Into my hair, he whispers, “I forgive you for leaving.”
He forgives me? Like I did something wrong by refusing to be his project anymore.
The next half hour is a masterclass in gaslighting, and I’m apparently the star pupil.
Mom makes me shower and change clothes while she and Drew have what I can only assume is a strategy session downstairs. When I come back down, things have somehow gotten worse.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mom announces, bringing in a tea tray like we’re having some civilized reunion. “Now everything can go back to the way it was.”
I stare at her. Drew nods and beams like they’ve solved world hunger.
“I’m looking forward to getting back to our life,” he says, accepting his teacup. “Everyone’s been asking about you. Don’t worry. I told them your illness was just acting up and you needed rest. They were so sympathetic.”
“But that’s not what happened,” I say slowly. “You didn’t tell them I broke off our engagement?”
He waves dismissively. “I knew you were just acting out. I’ve read about how grief over disability can make people do irrational things.”
My mouth falls open. He literally didn’t take me seriously. Like I’m not capable of making my own decisions about my own life. And if he thought my disability affected my brain—which it doesn’t—what the hell was he doing with me in the first place?
“So now that you’re back,” Mom continues cheerfully, “you can move in with Drew again, and the wedding plans won’t even be interrupted. Drew’s been so clever about handling everything.”
“What?” The word comes out strangled.
“Have some tea, honey. Your throat sounds dry.”
I take the cup with shaking hands, and Mom immediately misinterprets my obvious rage as symptoms of my old condition.
When I finally trust myself to speak, I make sure every word is crystal clear. “I was hoping to spend some time here after my trip.”
Mom waves me off. “Well, I can’t have that. I’ve already converted your room into my workout space. Besides, it’s important for people to see you two together before the wedding. Drew’s willing to take you back right away.”
Take me back. Like I’m a returned item from a store.
My mouth drops open as I realize what she’s really saying: I’m not welcome here anymore. I’m Drew’s problem now.
He smiles at me, and there’s something in his expression that has nothing to do with love and everything to do with ownership.
Has this always been a power trip for him? Look what a good guy he is—he even loves a disabled girl. That weird feeling I used to get, like he cared more about how we looked together than who I actually was... yeah, that’s coming back in full force.
“Come on, honey,” he says, standing. “Time to go home.”
“Yes, yes,” Mom agrees, also jumping up like she can’t wait to get rid of me. “You lovebirds need time to reconnect. I’m so happy! You’ll have such beautiful babies.”
I stand because if I stay here another second, I’ll scream.
Beautiful babies. I almost laugh hysterically thinking about what she’ll say when she meets her grandchild, who might very well have wings and fangs.
Drew’s face when I stand and we’re almost eye-to-eye is priceless. Funny how much shorter he seems when I’m not hunched over anymore.
“I don’t need the crutches,” I say with a smile. “Or the walker.”
He frowns but nods, heading for the door. He walks fast, like he’s trying to stay ahead of me, then keeps glancing back like he can’t believe I’m keeping up.
The car ride is tense and quiet. “Everyone at work will be excited to see you,” he says eventually.
I just nod, offering nothing back. The reality is sinking in: my mother has never seen me as anything more than a burden she keeps finding ways to pass off to someone else.
I press my hand to my stomach and make a silent promise: I will love you unconditionally. I will see you for who you are, not what you look like or how easy you are to deal with. I swear it.
Tears run down my cheeks as I stare out the window. Drew turns on his talk radio show and ignores me for the rest of the drive to his apartment.
His apartment. Not ours. Never ours.
Because this was never about love. This was about him having a project, a way to feel good about himself. And Mom, who wanted someone else to handle the daughter who didn’t fit her idea of perfect.
Well, congratulations to both of them. They’re about to get exactly what they deserve: a front-row seat to watching me choose myself for the first time in my life.
Even if it means doing it alone.