19. Thea
19
THEA
I moved through the greenhouse, letting my fingers trail over the plants. I had so much pride in the little haven I’d created in here. It had given me the sense of accomplishment I’d so desperately needed. Doing something worthwhile when someone had picked me apart for so many years, making me feel like a failure in every possible way, was a balm.
A lump took root in my throat, growing with each plant I passed. The home I’d built here was the perfect retreat, somewhere I finally felt safe. But I should’ve known that Brendan would steal this from me, too. Because my escape had always been tenuous at best and so delicate a strong breeze could send it crashing down.
On my break, I’d borrowed the computer in Sutton’s office to google the production Brendan was a part of. He was less than an hour away and had been for three weeks while filming some period piece about the pioneer days. People were already saying it was his chance at an Oscar and screaming about how it was finally his time.
My stomach roiled as I fought back tears. It was the worst twist of fate to hear people celebrating the person who’d been your tormentor. Calling the one they praised generous and good when they were the one who’d berated you over and over again. Pelted you with every failing and accused you of twisted actions that had taken root in their mind.
I shuddered, even though the temperature was in the low nineties. Sinking to the ground, I let the plants surround me and hugged my knees to my chest, needing the pressure, as though if I kept them there, my heart wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces.
There were times I still heard Brendan’s voice in my head. The vicious taunts and cruel accusations.
“You’re really going to eat that? So, your ex got you skinny, and I get the fat version?”
“I saw the way you were looking at him. He’s your type, isn’t he? You were hoping he’d take you into that back hallway and fuck you, weren’t you?”
“Such a fucking whore. I wish I’d known the truth about you when we met. But it’s too late now. You ruined my fucking life.”
And the sounds that accompanied them all. A glass shattering against the wall. A scream that was more animal than human, right in my face. A table slamming into a marble floor after being upended.
A single tear fell, darkening the caramel color of my overalls where it landed. I watched the wetness spread, infecting the threads around it, just like Brendan’s words had poisoned my brain.
But they were always followed by sweet nothings. Apologies. Promises.
“Selly. I’m so sorry. You know I’m a mess. I don’t deserve you. I should let you go, but I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t think I’d survive.”
A fresh wave of nausea ripped through me as Brendan’s face played in my mind. The anguish, the sorrow. Or had it all been an act?
I didn’t know. Because being with him had been like slowly losing my mind. It had taken months for me to get my footing again. Over a year to truly see how messed-up our relationship was.
But there were times, in the shadows of night, when a tiny piece of me would start to doubt. Was I all the things he said? Or even some of them? My mind would twist itself into knots, trying to figure out what things were the truth and which were lies. Did my eyes linger too long on the waiter as I thanked him for my meal? Was I too interested in what Brendan’s friend was telling us about his work with anti-malaria initiatives in Africa?
My fingers dug into my legs, nails cutting in, even through the canvas of my overalls. “You’re a good person.”
I whispered the words into the air around me. “You’re not perfect. But you try to be kind. You try to do right. You’re not evil.”
I repeated the assurances until my heart calmed and my breaths came more evenly. But I was exhausted. Tired to the bone from fighting the ghost that never seemed to leave me be. And I wondered if it ever would.
The sound of tires on gravel filtered through the open greenhouse door. I didn’t move for a second. Wasn’t sure I could. I didn’t think I had it in me to face Shep tonight. His goodness and light felt like everything that was just out of reach for me. Maybe something I didn’t even deserve.
I forced myself to my feet and started outside. As I walked toward the drive, I imagined painting on the layers of my mask. Pleasant, calm, easygoing. Nothing amiss. Everything just as it always was.
Shep slid out of his truck, the silver gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. Everything about it was so perfectly clean…like always. So opposed to the dirty, twisted things that lived inside me.
He smiled at me, his easy grin stretching across his face as he walked. Each step made his white tee stretch taut across his chest. “Hey, Thorn.”
I forced a smile. “Hi. I’m running a bit behind today. I still need to make the food. I’ll probably just give you yours and then head back to my desk. I told Duncan I’d work on a design project for him, and I want to get a jump on that. It’s a really good opportunity?—”
“Thea.” Shep’s hand curved around mine. So warm and strong and good . “What’s going on?”
I tugged free, my eyes burning. I couldn’t handle feeling all that was Shep. All that would never be mine because my mind would twist whatever we shared. I’d ruin it. And maybe even him.
“Nothing. I just have a lot on my plate. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the kitchen.” I started toward the house. Shep would do whatever he had to do. Maybe he would realize that I was a raving bitch and leave. That would probably be for the best.
“Is this about Brendan Boseman?”
I stopped dead. Blood roared in my ears as my pulse thrummed. I turned slowly around. “What did you say?”
Hurt swirled in Shep’s amber eyes. “I know, Thea.”
And then my whole world came crashing down.