Chapter 14 Kip
KIP
The house never changed. Same manicured hedges. Same pristine brick path lined with white roses, as if they could bleach the rot from the foundation.
I slammed the door to my car and stormed up the pathway, scattered dead leaves dancing across the cracked cement.
Mother was always about keeping up appearances for the outside world.
People saw her as a kind Christian woman who devoted her life to the greater good.
I knew better. Shit had gotten even worse after my dad died.
It hadn’t taken me long to realize that I was born to an angel, just not the good one.
And the lies she’d fed me. As much as I hated her, I’d bought them like a fish desperate for a worm on the hook.
My gaze narrowed, focused on finding answers. I sure as hell wasn’t here to spend quality time with her.
Cynthia opened the front door before I could knock.
She blinked like I was a ghost, her grip tightening on the handle. “Kip. Your mother isn’t—”
I didn’t wait for her to finish before I slipped past her and into the kitchen. Dog wagged his tail and licked my hand. I knelt, giving him some kudos, before I stood and addressed Cynthia.
“She’s in her room, right?” I said without turning around.
Cynthia hesitated. “She’s not feeling well today.”
“What else is new?”
My footsteps echoed through the hall like warning shots. The place was too quiet—like it was waiting for someone to die. It was.
I shoved her bedroom door open and stepped into the lion’s den.
She lay propped against several king-size pillows, a silk robe the color of wine clinging to her frail body. Mother startled awake when I barged in.
“You lied to me,” I said, my voice low, controlled.
She arched one perfect brow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
I stalked toward her, my fingers itching to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her.
“You lied to me,” I said again, sharper this time. “Samantha.” I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, placing an arm on each side of her, caging her in. It wasn’t as if she had the strength to fight me, but I wanted to make damn sure I had her attention.
She gave a soft, disappointed sigh. “You don’t scare me, Kip. Barging in here demanding answers and trying to intimidate me.” She laughed. “You’re playing with fire. Leave it alone.”
“She’s alive,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why did you lie to me?”
“And?” Her gaze didn’t waver. “You know what you did, Kip. Deep down, you always have.”
I stepped forward, rage needling my skin. “I saw her. I touched her. She’s alive and walking around fucking Portland.”
“And yet here you are,” she said, sneering, “still dangerous. Still spiraling. Just like you were then.”
My jaw clenched as she dangled the past in front of me.
I stood, my fists clenching and unclenching as I took a few steps away from her.
Tingles spread through my fingers. “You fed me a bunch of fucking bullshit my entire life. Tormented me.” The scars on my back pulsed with the echoes of my mother’s hand, a twisted repentance for a sin I’d never committed.
A mix of confusion and longing—a yearning to understand her motives and a desire to break free from the past still clung to me like a wet blanket.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” She tilted her head, the concern in her eyes so polished it almost looked real.
“You think that you understand. You stupid, stupid man. I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect you—from yourself.
” She struggled to draw in a deep breath, her raspy cough filling the room.
“And this is how you repay me.” She leaned back on her pillows and glanced out of the window.
“She’s come back to destroy you, Kip. That girl is not safe.
Not for you. She’s playing with you. You’re nothing more than her puppet on a string.
By now you’re probably so obsessed with her that all you’re thinking with is your dick.
” She stared at me, then leaned over and spat on my shoes. “Worthless.”
I shoved my fingers through my hair, trying not to smother her with a fucking pillow. Would I ever be truly free from the one monster who haunted me? Even when she died, her voice was so deeply rooted in my mind, I wasn’t sure.
I resisted the urge to scratch the scars on my arm. I wouldn’t give the bitch the satisfaction. “She doesn’t even remember me.”
“That’s what she wants you to believe.” Mother reached for her glass of water and took a sip. “And when she twists the knife—when she finally brings it all crashing down—don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I narrowed my gaze at her, hate radiating off me. “You’re lying again,” I snarled, each word laced with venom.
“You’re unstable.”
The words hit harder than a slap, and my chest squeezed tight.
“You’ve always needed structure,” she continued, trying to sit up and smoothing the silk robe across her arm. “Rules. Boundaries. Medication. You’ve never handled chaos well. That girl was chaos, Kip. She pulled the worst out of you and made you into a … monster.”
“She didn’t—”
“She seduced you. Twisted you. She knew what she was doing. She led you to the edge and then looked surprised when you jumped.”
“I never touched her like that. I—”
“You wanted her. Obsessively.” Her pitch dropped lower, quieter. “Don’t deny it. I read your journals. I saw the things you drew. The words you carved into your arms. You were consumed by her.”
My skin turned cold. I hadn't remembered the drawings. The words. But something in her tone told me maybe she was being honest.
Or maybe she was just so convincing that I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Was she right about Samantha? Did she remember who I was, and she was playing me? Using me to keep her safe from Draco and Cooper?
Mother reached over, grabbed her oxygen mask, and held it. “Samantha isn’t up for discussion anymore. Besides, I need to talk to you about something else that’s more important. I want you to meet an old friend of mine. He was close with your uncle as well.”
Suspicion flowed through my veins. She rarely mentioned my uncle, Vinny, since he’d died a few years ago.
He’d been my sanity in some twisted ways, taught me how to clean up after a crime scene and decimate a body.
When Mother was sick of me, she would send me to help him take care of the messy aftermath.
“Why?” I bit out and crossed my arms in a futile attempt to defend myself from the damage Mother was once again causing.
“When he reached out to me, he asked if I could do him a favor. I’m on my deathbed, of course I’ll grant my old friend a last wish.”
“Get to the point. What’s the favor he needs done?”
“You’ll have to discuss it with him. He didn’t give me any details. He just asked to meet you. There’s no harm in that, is there?” Her eyebrow arched slightly.
Everything Mother did had an underlying reason. Out of curiosity, I asked, “What’s his name and how do I get in touch with him?”
She pointed to the top of her dresser. “There’s a white card with a phone number on it. Text him.”
I spotted the information and picked it up. There wasn’t a name, only a number. “What’s his name, Mother? You need to tell me who I’m meeting, or I won’t go.”
She offered me a twisted smile. “You’ll go, or I’ll deal with Samantha myself, and you’ll never get what you want.”
Her words stunned me for a moment, then I marched over to her, and got in her face. “You’re a fucking bitch,” I growled. “You can’t manipulate me with her anymore. That’s over. She means nothing to me. Do with her what you want.” Now who’s not telling the truth?
She threw her head back and laughed, her petite body shaking.
“Don’t bother lying to me. You’re obsessed with her, or you wouldn’t have stomped over here demanding answers.
It’s starting all over again, isn’t it? Are you watching her?
Waiting outside her workplace? Following her?
” Her smile dropped off her lips as she pinned me with a hateful glare.
“You’re a fucked-up mess. Nothing has changed. ”
“I’ve had enough.” I tossed the card back onto her dresser. “I don’t need you to find answers. See you in hell, bitch.” I turned on my heel and headed to the door, then she whispered a name that made me freeze in my fucking tracks.