CHAPTER 17
I was desperate to leave this room, to keep this private, but I don’t have time to fight Finnigan. Not when my father is experiencing a rare moment of lucidity.
“Hi, Daddy.” I barely suppress the emotions shaking my voice.
“Hi, my sweet Evie.” His voice turns my legs to jelly, and I feel around me until I find the edge of the bed again.
“I miss you, Daddy. So much.”
“Come see me. It’s been so long…”
It has. Months. Maya and I used to go see him every week. More often if the nurses told us over the phone that he was having a good week, when he was actually remembering us. We tried to avoid the weeks when he remembered that the love of his life, our mom, is dead. I wanted to be there to hold him through it, even if he didn’t know who I was, but I couldn’t put Maya through it.
She didn’t understand why Daddy was angry, why he didn’t know who she was. Especially since his Alzheimer’s has been getting progressively worse in the last year. I had to protect her, no matter how much it hurt not to be able to see my only living parent.
“I can’t right now, but I promise I’ll come soon.”
“Why not, sweet Evie? Today feels perfect. The sun seems to be shining for the first time in weeks. Maybe longer.” He trails off and I wander with him, my gaze going out the window, toward the back of the house where Maya is playing outside with her new friend—Aaro.
“Maya and I had to leave town for a bit, Daddy. But we’re doing well.”
“Why? Where are you?”
“On the South coast. We’re safe, I promise. We’re staying with—” I turn my head until Finnigan hits my line of sight, and my breath hitches when I catch the unfamiliar worry in his eyes. “Friends. We’re safe. Maya’s happy.” I turn back to look out the window at my sister playing with the curly-haired little boy.
“Is she? You’re so good with her, she’s so lucky to have you. I’m so sorry I’m not there to take care of you… I’m so sorry, my sweet Evie.”
I choke up, swallowing unshed tears. He hasn’t been this lucid in so long, and I’m not there to experience it in person. To hug him. Hold him. For him to hold me. Like he used to. Rubbing a big hand down my hair, kissing the top of my head. He made me feel so safe. Even as his memories of me were drifting away.
“You’re the best dad ever, you’re always with us. No matter the distance.”
“Oh, I love you, honey.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
“But, why are you there, sweet Evie? It’s thousands of miles away.”
“I found better work here with the help of friends, and a good school for Maya.” Technically the first part is true—my job at Lulu’s Café is great, and higher paid for sure.
I hate lying to my father, even if he’s likely to forget this conversation by the end of the week. Maybe even the day. It feels disrespectful.
“Okay honey. I trust you. If you thought that was the best for your sister and you. When are you coming back?”
“We’ll come home soon, Daddy.”
At those words I hear shuffling behind me, and I tense.
“Once we finish here, we’ll be back, and we’ll come straight to see you.”
“I can’t wait. It’s been too long.”
I don’t miss the change in his voice. I’ve heard it enough to recognize it and I wonder if I have any time left.
“Do you want to speak to Maya?” I ask, a hint of hope lifting my tone.
“Yes. But, umm… can I, can I talk to your mom first?”
Sometimes I think there aren’t any pieces left of my heart to break. Yet, every time he says something like this, his words find a stray shard big enough to shatter.
He’s going away again…
“She’s not here, Daddy.”
“Where is she?” there’s a slight tremble in his voice.
“She’s… out.” I can’t do it. I’ve broken his heart so many times now, I must have reached a hundred.
“Oh…”
“Is nurse Jackie taking good care of you?” I attempt to distract him.
“She cheats at chess.”
I burst out in a short laugh, because only he could have said something so random.
“Let me talk to her, I’ll give her a piece of my mind.”
“You can try, but she won’t admit it. Call me soon, sweet Evie, yes?”
“Of course, Daddy. We’ll speak soon. I love you, and Maya loves you so much.”
“Um… Maya… oh yes. I love you too.”
He’s losing her again.
“Thank you, Jackie. I appreciate the call.” I tell the woman when her voice comes back on the other line.
“Always, sweetheart. I waited to make sure he was truly there. Did he speak with Maya?” she asks.
“No. He asked about Mom.”
“I heard. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”
“I know. Thank you, Jackie.”
“Are you safe? Last time we talked you said you’re down South.”
“Yes, I’m safe. I have a good job now, nice place to stay, I’ll be back soon,” I answer her.
“Okay honey, you take good care of the little firecracker, okay?”
I’m reluctant to say goodbye to the woman, knowing that I will have to turn around and face the man who has listened to this entire conversation. At least my side of it. But I do. I say goodbye and hang up, though the sadness doesn’t leave me as I watch my sister out there, oblivious to the fact that I had two good minutes with our father, and she missed out on this sense of utter joy.
Only, that’s not quite the case for her. I shake my head as I drop the phone on the bed.
My sister doesn’t perceive our father in the same way that I do. She was too young to form the same attachment as me, the same relationship. He’s been in the care home for half her short life. She’s always been excited to see him, she loves him, but she’s young… she thankfully doesn’t hurt like I do.
It’s probably why he forgets her quicker than he forgets me.
It hurts so much when he forgets. When his safety is ripped away from me.
I can’t help the tears pooling in my eyes now, nor the one sliding down my cheeks, mourning the father I used to have.
“Does anyone else know?” I flinch at Finnigan’s soft voice, clutching the bedspread in my fists.
“Only Lulu,” I whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell us? We can help him… you.” His steps are closing in.
Do I have the heart to tell him I did this to protect my father from them?
“I don’t need it. He’s perfect where he is. It’s a specialized home for people with dementia. They have all the facilities, and great staff,” I answer.
“But they don’t have you…” Finnigan trails off and the kindness in his words takes my breath away. “I’m sorry I stopped you from leaving the room, then. Maya didn’t get to talk to him.”
I sigh because I wish I could blame him, but in truth, it was too late.
“It’s okay. She wouldn’t have managed to. He was already slipping away. It’s probably better this way.”
His shadow looms over me for a moment before the bed dips, my body involuntarily leaning toward him, and I quickly gather my hands in my lap. I don’t turn, don’t pay him any attention as my focus stays on my sister beyond the window.
“Why didn’t you tell us about him? We thought you were homeless because he… passed away.”
I take in a shallow breath and realize I don’t have the energy to invent a different reason that might not hurt his feelings.
“Because I didn’t know anything about you. All of you. Not that I know that much now.” I rub my thumbs nervously on my lap. “There was no reason to trust you, and I will protect my family at all costs. I could never risk him being used in any way because of my screw up.”
A slow, deep inhale coming from him tenses me up. I wait for the retaliation, for the snappy remark.
“Okay, fair.”
My brows pull together, but I hold myself from turning to him.
“Has your opinion of us changed?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, surprising myself.
I know my instincts spoke before me because it’s true. They treat my sister and I with nothing but kindness. From shelter, to food, to a decent job, and… friendship. As terrifying as that is, since I cannot stay in this city, they give me friendship. Unconditionally.
“For the better?” he asks.
“You’re not what I expected. All of you, I mean.” I quickly correct myself. “People whisper about you in town, about the ruthless Sanctum, the crime, the sex, the power. They fear you. I’m not saying you’re not to be feared, you probably are, but what I’ve seen so far… it’s exponentially different from their perception of you.”
The exhale I hear coming from him warms me. There’s relief in that whiff of air, and a tinge of hope blossoms beneath my flesh.
“Tell me about your parents.” He speaks those words in such a calm, soothing tone, I feel compelled to share.
“They were normal people. Not rich, not poor, normal jobs. We lived in one of those suburban neighborhoods that’s almost in the countryside, with plenty of space between houses. It was just the four of us. My mother came from the foster system and didn’t know her parents, my father’s mom died when I was two, and my grandpa when I was six. No siblings on either side, no great aunts or uncles. It was just us… we were happy.” I inhale slowly, defeated. “Until we weren’t.”
I watch as Maya comes back into the garden, shyly handing Aaro a little plate with a piece of my cake. They both blush and there’s something so endearing about this sweet moment.
Finn doesn’t say a word. He’s perfectly still in my periphery, patiently waiting on me to spill my story. Maybe there’s hope yet for whatever this is between us. Though he seems reluctant to even admit it.
“About five years ago, our lives changed. Dad started having strange symptoms that didn’t quite add up. At first, they kind of ignored them and passed them as stress. But then the forgetfulness came, and from then on, he deteriorated. He has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and it’s aggressive enough that the decision was made for him to go to a care home that specializes in dementia. He insisted himself on one of his good days. Mom fought him so hard, I thought she would win. She didn’t, Dad wouldn’t let her.”
I remember that period like it was yesterday. There was no yelling, no actual fighting, but begging. So much begging from both sides.
“Dad couldn’t work anymore, of course, and mom not only had to work harder, but take care of a three-year-old, a thirteen-year-old, and my father. It got to the point where she couldn’t leave him alone with us. I had to go find him after school on more than one occasion, because he got lost in the neighborhood. Once he almost burnt down the kitchen. Dad couldn’t do this to mom, he loved her and us too much to make us suffer. So he went to the home. A good one.”
“Evelyn… I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in his tone splits open a little part of me I haven’t been allowing to get too close.
“It’s okay. I got used to it.”
“But who’s paying for him now? Who has been paying since you’ve been on your own?”
“Their savings. Mom put it in a sort of trust and a direct debit runs out of there monthly. She wanted to make sure that money is secure. But… it’s running out. No one could have anticipated she—” I have to take a deep breath, swallowing through the emotions the memory of her brings. “That she wouldn’t be here now.”
“What happened?” Finnigan asks.
“Dad was already in the care home by this point. For quite some time. Mom went to the grocery store, came out to head to her car and… got caught in the middle of a gang war. She was shot in the parking lot. Police called her collateral damage, wrong place at the wrong time and all that. She stood no chance and died on scene.”
I think we both stopped breathing, because you could hear a needle drop in this heavy silence.
“Some time ago you told me something—you don’t know what your world did to mine—is this what you meant?”
I flinch at Finnigan’s question. How does he even remember that? I blamed him and his world, and it’s hard not to feel a little guilty about it now. A little right, too.
“It’s easy to put all crime in one pot. Gangs are still criminal organizations, seeing the commonalities isn’t that hard.” I answer sincerely. Then there’s what happened after… what their world turned me into, but I barely admit that to myself, so I’m not going to tell him. “And after all that, Maya and I fell into the clutches of another side of this dangerous world.”
“I understand. I’m sorry about your mom, Evie.” He moves on from the subject. Though, he doesn’t deny it.
“Thank you. It’s been long enough that I’ve gotten used to the entire situation.”
“You shouldn’t have to get used to something like this. You’re supposed to have support, people around you to help you through it all. How did you end up on the streets?”
“We had nowhere to go.” I shrug. “We couldn’t stay home, not as two minors. The only solution was placement, but in different foster families. And under no circumstances was I going to allow Maya to be separated from me.”
“How did you escape the system?”
“I never went in it,” I answer bluntly. “After the police came to the door to tell us about mom, I gathered everything I could hold in two backpacks, and ran. I knew what the system meant, and I wasn’t going to allow it to swallow us whole. I was inspired enough to grab all photos of us as well, though they’re all lost now. I wanted the memories, but it was mainly for Maya’s benefit. I knew the police would put our faces on the side of a milk carton, especially Maya since she was so young. She’s probably on the missing children list with no photo, just a name and birthplace.”
“How did you manage to get her enrolled in school?”
“Fake documents and a person pretending to be our mom. It helped that Maya was never in school before, it was her first year. And we changed her name from Shaw to Shawn. Thought it would be easy to brush it off as a typo whenever I did manage to get custody and enroll her properly under her real name.”
“Jesus…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath, and I know he’s pondering his next question. I bet he has a lot of them. “I just don’t understand how you managed all of this on your own. This… fuck, it’s so much, Evelyn. You were what, sixteen? Christ.”
“I didn’t have a choice. It was between this or losing my sister in the system. Imagine if she ended up in a closed adoption or something. It was not an option in my book. Though, I do wonder sometimes”—more often than I want to admit—“if Maya would have had a better life. If she would have found an amazing family. One who didn’t live in shady motels or in their car. Who didn’t get kidnapped in a trafficking ring.”
Warmth and softness wrap around both my hands on my lap and I’m speechless when I look down—his large hand holds mine. Squeezing. Soothing. Comforting.
“You made the best choice.”
I have no idea what to say to that, because his touch is a welcome distraction from all the sorrow I shared. His hand over both of mine drives me down a path of forbidden touch and untapped desire. If only he would move it higher, run it all up my arm, drag this electric current over my shoulders, my throat, my cheek… down my back, over my ass, and—
“How were you able to visit your dad?” He interrupts my dangerous thoughts. “Didn’t the staff report you?”
“No. I knew one of the nurses. She wanted to call CPS at first, but I convinced her eventually. When her boyfriend was away on business, she used to take us in for the night. She’s the one who called—Jackie. The rest of the staff I came in contact with didn’t really ask, but Jackie told them we were in foster care. No one has time to question that.” I’m still looking at our hands. “Where are your parents?” I ask.
“This month, on a yacht somewhere off the East coast. I think. They travel a lot.” He shrugs.
How peculiar. He’s not even bothered by it. His thumb has started moving, rubbing slowly, mindlessly over my knuckles, distracting me.
“You’re not close?”
“As close as I can be to two parents who filled their time with work their whole life, and when they retired, they left.”
“I’m sorry. That must be rough.”
“Not at all,” he says, his thumb still stroking over my hand. “It’s what I’ve always known from them. I did have Mamaw June though.”
“Vincent’s mom, really? How long have you all known each other?” I didn’t expect that. I thought they were close because they were business partners.
“Since we were kids. We were in school together. Madds and Vin were already friends, then we came along not long after. June was like a surrogate mother for all of us. She always had enough love in her for all of us.”
God, I want to hug him. I may not have my parents anymore, or at least my mom, but the memories I have of them… of my mom teaching me to bake cookies, making pink meringues with my dad, our little adventures through the woods collecting pinecones, or at the beach gathering all the pretty pebbles, and so many more. I would be lost without those memories. Especially now that our photos no longer exist. Well, technically they do, in my old car that’s probably in a dump somewhere.
“Mamaw June truly is incredible.”
“She’s good with Maya,” he agrees.
“She’s good with me too,” I admit.
At my words he tightens his hold around my hands. This means something to both of us. A strange common ground born out of two different situations, different needs, different wants.
“With everything you went through, you fucking prevailed. Look at you now. You’re surrounded by people who care.”
“Do you?” I turn, my gaze pinned onto the azure of his. “Do you care about me, Finnigan?”
He flinches, his lips parting, but only unspoken words pass through that slight gap.
Damn it! We’ve opened up. I’ve opened up! I thought this was going somewhere, that he was finally going to acknowledge… this. Whatever this is. I’m such a fool.
“I’m not good for you, Evelyn. This”—he points between us, releasing my hands,—“can’t go anywhere. We can’t cross this line.”
“Jesus, Finnigan. You’re the one with the chalk in hand drawing lines only you care about.” I rise, clenching my fists, trying to rein in my anger, but for the first time in a long time, I fail. “Just… just fucking stop it!”