Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
SIMONA
I get back to Unity well past curfew. The guard at the front gate has to call through to one of the Omega Mothers to let them know. I feel bad waking her up but when she meets me at the gate to let me in, she doesn’t act annoyed. If anything, she looks at me sympathetically.
“It’s very strange how the world works sometimes, isn’t it.” She says cryptically. “I was actually on my way to your room.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps we should talk in my office.”
My stomach drops, and she pats my back in comfort as she takes the lead. As we walk in silence a whole lot of noise fills my thoughts. Could Brody be here? Does he know about Hendrix? Does Omega Mother Beatrice know about Hendrix? Does she know what Brody did when he last visited?
“Take a seat, dear,” she says, interrupting my freakout.
Her office is empty. And I feel relieved at that, but when she sits next to me, as opposed to her side of the desk, a deeper sense of dread hits like a lead balloon in my stomach .
Omega Mother Beatrice reaches for my hand and gives it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Simona, but your father Lawson has suffered a medical episode. I have arranged a car to take you to the airport so you can get home as soon as possible. All your family are with him at the hospital, and he is getting the very best medical attention.”
“What happened?”
“They’re not one hundred percent sure as they’re waiting on results but at this stage, they think he may have had a stroke.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes. It’s a priority to get you back home so you can see him.”
“He’s going to make it?”
Her arm snakes around my shoulders which is answer enough. As her words sink in further, a flush burns from deep inside accompanied by a hollow ringing in my ears.
How selfish am I? I only thought about myself. I think I’m going to throw up. My eyes get blurry, and my head swims with dizziness.
“Simona, dear, put your head between your knees. You’re going into shock.” With a gentle press she guides my head down. “Close your eyes and breathe slowly.”
I do exactly what she says. It takes a while to slow the giddiness enough for me to stand up. Getting home is a blur, and no matter how hard I try I honestly don’t remember anything about travelling. What I do remember is the look on Brody’s face when he finds me in my father’s hospital room a few days later.
“You didn’t want to message and let me know you were here?” he hisses softly.
My eyes stay focused on Lawson, and somehow, watching him wake up means more to me than the doctor’s confirmation he will be fine.
I don’t look at Brody because he’s not why I am here. “I have been busy. Sorry, Brody.” I say the words but there’s nothing behind them.
Without a word of a lie, his anger surges so suddenly it feels like a shove to my chest. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down—otherwise I might’ve stumbled. Now all it does is piss me off.
Standing up, I fuss with Lawson’s blankets before walking out of the main room and into the attached bathroom. Brody’s intent to follow is pretty obvious, and he does. Like I knew he would.
He shuts the door behind him, careful not to make a sound. And I didn’t come in here to give him the opportunity of lashing out at me with his words or touch, I came in here to give him a piece of my mind.
“What is wrong with you? My father is out there, after having, what looks like a mini-stroke, and you’re angry because I didn’t text? My parents knew I was here, yours did too, just because you didn’t is not my issue,” I whisper furiously. Before I can get another word out, Brody charges forward, but I expected it, and I leap out of his way. Not all the way, but I manage to avoid most of the impact of his hit.
Instant fire burns down my face where his punch landed. I stagger backwards, pinballing off the wall and falling on my ass.
His leg raises, like he’s going to kick me, I get ready for it, everything happening in slow motion, but we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Simona, honey, are you in there?”
I throw my hands up, still not trusting Brody. “Hey, Mom. Brody’s here, we didn’t want to wake Dad.”
“Okay. ”
A few seconds later a chair scrapes along the linoleum floor and it’s obvious she’s sitting out there. Probably not waiting for us but we also can’t hide in here forever.
I’m so relieved and thankful I nearly start laughing. Except Brody does the unthinkable and leans down to kiss me. Roughly. His mouth isn’t soft or gentle as he plunders, the unmistakable iron leaks from my lip.
He pulls away, his eyes doing all the talking—clearly, I’m not meant to say a word. I fight the urge to recoil from his touch, but like his kiss, his grip is rough. He drags his fingers through my hair near the spot where he hit me, then he’s against my ear.
“I forbid you,” he barks once, and that familiar sense of disconnection pounds in my head. And then he’s repeating the same words over and over until he’s confident in the damage he’s done.
Brody’s command forms a barrier around my freewill, and corrals it, making it impossible for me to share with the world what a vile piece of shit he is.
I feel like I’m watching one of those shocking movies or documentary shows about people who get abused by their partner. After his bark, it’s like I’m viewing it from a distance, aware of how wrong it is but unable to do a thing about it.
Except no matter the barrier he puts up, he can’t stop the hate festering inside me. It’s a goddamn miracle no one’s seen it in my eyes yet—some days I can’t even see it when I look in the mirror. Today is one of those days, I realise, as he yanks me toward my reflection. I move too slowly, and he slaps my hands aside, straightening my clothes like I’m nothing more than a doll. Then, without pause, he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door, wrenching it open.
“Hey, Mrs. Vanderling,” he whispers softly, sincerely, giving my mom a kiss on the cheek. “How’s he doing? ”
Brody doesn’t let me go, and when he sits down, he makes me sit on his lap, positioning me so Mom can’t catch the mark on my face. His fingers dig against my back, warning in everything he does.
The past few days have been a drawn-out game of cat and mouse. Brody toys with me at every chance he gets, but I’ve made it harder than perhaps I should, by refusing to leave the hospital.
Since I arrived, I have slept, eaten, and showered here because I’ve been so worried dad might suffer another setback. It didn’t feel right leaving Lawson alone, but I also felt safer with him. I also didn’t feel right to be any other version of me but the wallflower I am in this world. I don’t check in with the Scorned Girls, and I definitely don’t turn on Hendrix’s phone or message Rye. I go completely radio silent on that side of my life and hone all my attention to what’s happening with Lawson.
“Dad,” I whisper, trying to wake him up from his afternoon nap. It’s me or the nursing staff doing it, and they wouldn’t be as gentle as I am. I give him another shake and I get a sleepy huff from him as he turns his head away.
The medication they’ve been giving him is making him sedate and calm. The doctors have been lessening his dose but perhaps they need to relook at it.
“Dad.” I shake him a little harder.
This time he wakes up more, but it’s plain to see he’s still not awake, or his normal self. At least this time, he turns this way, his eyes are half open and he searches for me.
“Simmy.” His voice might be croaky but the familiarity in his voice brings a rush of relief. I’ve been so worried we’re losing him but one word, and he sounds more like himself than he has been since I arrived.
He licks his lips, and before he can ask, I’m holding a glass of water, the straw poised at his lips. He draws on it a few times and then lays his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes.
I go to give him another little shake, but he shocks the hell out of me when he starts talking quietly. “I promise I haven’t forgotten, Sim. I’ll go around and see the Hendersons as soon as mom gets home from the shops. Just hang in there, kiddo. Keep writing and trying your hardest, I’m not letting you pack that monster.”
The water I’m holding drops to the ground, splashing up my legs. I’m so stunned by what he said. I don’t quite believe it.
“Dad? What did you say?”
Lawson looks up at me but I’m not sure he can see me. It’s weird. His eyebrows draw together, and he starts blinking slowly like he’s fighting sleep.
“Do whatever you have to, Simona. You’ve got my full support, always. You know I’ll back you,” he says, but towards the end his words become mumbled as they run together, only stopping because he’s back asleep.
I shake him harder than the other times, raising my voice. “Dad!”
He makes a small snore, and then I’m wondering if I just made the whole scene up. I mean, I know I didn’t, but it’s got that weird Twilight Zone feel to it where you wonder if you’ve lost your mind or not.
He is clearly asleep. Even when I make lots of noise, opening cupboards to find some paper to mop the water up, he doesn’t do anything but sleep and snore.
I’m still thrown by what happened. It was so freaky. I know some people sleepwalk and talk, but I hadn’t seen it first-hand. The other thing it might have been was him talking through his medication, like a psychotic episode, but I’m not a doctor. Not being able to figure out how he did it, my thoughts focus on what he actually said and how he said it. He sounded like my dad from the day before he had his heart-attack. And certainly, he was talking as if we were still having the same conversation we did when he wrapped my hurt wrist from so long ago.
I sit in the chair and watch him, trying to figure out what happened. His phone buzzes in the drawer, and I pull it out knowing it will be mom. Replying to her, letting her know he’s asleep, I run quickly through the other alerts to see if I can answer any of his friends, but they’re mostly work related, and I leave it to them. My heart stops when I see an alert from Unity.
After checking that he’s asleep, I open the email. I get I’m being sneaky, but it doesn’t stop me from reading. It’s harmless enough—just an update about the academy records giving me permission to attend functions and excursions. I’d assumed Brody was handling these things, and I half-expected him to have already denied everything. Maybe he would have, but for some reason, he hasn’t been included on this one. Triple checking that Dad is still asleep, I take a breath—and then give myself permission to attend every function and excursion Unity has planned.
I nearly ruin everything by making way too much noise when I hit the send button, but my emotions are bubbling up and they’re hard to contain. Excitement mostly at how much freedom and flexibility I just gave myself, shock at how sneaky I was, and a touch of badass thinking of how I beat Brody at his own game. Interestingly, I don’t feel any guilt.
My happiness dips a little when I purposely hide my tracks by burying Unity’s email under a heap of other emails and messages .
I’m still holding the phone when the nurse pushes the door open to check on us. She doesn’t say anything but the look on her face is pretty clear: wake him up or I will. Leaving it in a spot where it’s obvious I’ve been checking his messages for him, I give him another shake. More forceful this time.
“Dad.”
He jumps a country mile when I shake him. And this time when he wakes up, I can easily see he’s more aware. He shuffles up to sitting, and we adjust his bed so he can lean back more comfortably before he reaches for my hand. “Hey, Simmy, when did you get here?”
I burst into tears.
Lawson squeezes my hand, trying to comfort me. “Simona, they said I’m being released today. You remember that, don’t you? I’m fine. I promise you I am not going anywhere. Life is going to go on like normal, nothing will change.”
He gets a watery smile from me. I’m so relieved he’s okay, but the tears are more to do with my devastation that he has no recollection of talking with me only minutes ago.
“Did the doctor come by? I was hoping your mom would be here when he does. I want you here, and Brody. It brings me lots of peace knowing he’s with you, stepping up when I can’t, you know what I mean. But even when you two finally pack, I want you to know you can always talk to me. You know that, Simona?”
I forbid you.
I forbid you.
I forbid you.
Each word Lawson says is like a stab in the chest, while Brody’s command hammers in my head. Once again, I’m caught between one Alpha not remembering and the other making it hard for me to forget, and impossible for me to tell the truth.
Lawson doesn’t let go of my hand even when the rest of the family arrives—Brody and his family included. Admittedly, I don’t let go of him either. After some discussion, everyone collectively agrees that Lawson is well enough for me to return to Unity.