Chapter 15 Nothing
NOTHING
PATIENCE
Kole sets a glass of water down in front of Violet, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Sounds good.” She smiles.
“Stay in the apartment until I return.”
Why are all Sigma Sin men so creepy and ominous?
Violet doesn’t seem to notice as she holds up her textbook and smiles. “Don’t worry. We’ve still got four chapters to get through tonight.”
He nods, and when he glances at me, I give him a tight smile.
I still don’t know how to feel about Kole.
He’s been polite and kept his distance as we’ve cohabitated these past weeks.
I’ve managed to make it almost halfway through the program without any issues living under the same roof as him.
But as quiet and easy as he’s been to live with, I’m under no illusions about the sides he hides beneath the surface.
Deep down, the real Kole Christiansen is a vicious monster. Incapable of love, yet managing this obsessive, toxic relationship with my friend. He might be playing nice, but I don’t trust him, and I don’t doubt the pain he’d inflict if something set him off.
Kole and I will never be friends. But for Violet’s sake, we’ve been doing a good job not acting like enemies this summer.
He grabs his keys off the counter, locking all five locks on the apartment door when he shuts it behind him.
Whoever owns this place must be as paranoid as Kole is because there’s a ridiculous amount of security on that single door when the building already has top-of-the-line cameras in every hallway.
“Where’s he going tonight?” I pull my feet under me on the couch and set my book in my lap.
“He’s meeting up with a friend.”
I hum, flipping the page. A friend can only mean he’s doing something for the House. I wish I hadn’t asked, even if I already assumed.
“There’s so much more to criminal profiling than they’ve been going over at Briar.
” Violet highlights another line in her book before typing something into her laptop.
“I feel like we’ve been learning it at the level of a television show.
Retaining everything Professor Gray has been teaching is sending my brain into overload. ”
The simple mention of Jacob has my cheeks warming, so I dip my chin. After that evening in his office, I’ve been avoiding him again. I don’t know how to act around him, and I’ll never look at a ruler the same. My body wants more, but my brain has slammed on the brakes.
What if he regrets it?
I probably should.
The trouble is, I don’t. For the first time in my life, I stopped thinking about anything else except what I wanted to do. What felt good to me. I let go, and Jacob was the one to hold the tether that kept me from floating away entirely.
I’ve never trusted anyone like that. And while it’s a long way from handing over my heart, I feel like I gave him something fundamental. Not that we can ever have more.
My heart sinks as my gaze slides to the trash can across the apartment, where I threw away the rogue poppy that ended up in my bedroom. Kole must have given Violet flowers, and one of them accidentally stuck to my things.
I stared at the poppy for thirty minutes, twirling it between my fingers and wondering what it would feel like to have a man give me flowers. Especially a red one—my favorite. Poppies, roses, tulips.
What would it be like to have a man give me anything at all?
And what does it say that I’m romanticizing Kole’s actions right now?
I shake my head, turning my attention back to my book. “I guess it’s a good thing he’s challenging us.”
“True,” Violet agrees. “I’m just struggling with this chapter apparently. Every time I think I’m being objective, I realize I’m not.”
“No one is entirely objective, and I think that’s the point. We all bring our own bias into it. You’re not alone in that.”
“I guess you’re right.” She frowns.
“At least yesterday’s discussion helped me understand some of it more clearly.”
“Same. But it didn’t make me feel any better about presenting my argument in the Irsite case. I realized that my main points could be stereotypes.”
“Want to swap papers and see if we can help with sticking points? Maybe you can be more objective for me, and vice versa.”
“Yes, please.” Violet spins her laptop around, and I lean forward, doing the same.
She sits cross-legged on the floor reading mine, while I pull her laptop into my lap on the couch, and we spend the next two hours reading and discussing. By the time we shut down our computers, we’re closer, but there’s still plenty of work to be done.
“If I pass this program, it will be a miracle.” Violet sighs.
“You’ve got a better shot at it than me.”
“That’s not true. Stop doubting yourself.”
I roll my eyes, redoing my ponytail for the tenth time tonight as I walk into the kitchen. “Are you staying awake until Kole gets back?”
“Probably, I can’t sleep when he’s not here.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Yes, please.”
I flip on the coffee machine and pull out mugs and creamer. “Have you heard from Mila this week?”
“Once in the group chat, I think. Why?”
“She’s been quiet. I hope everything’s okay.” I rest my elbows on the counter as the first cup of coffee starts to brew. “I think the carnival being in town is bringing things up for her. I didn’t realize that’s how she grew up.”
“Me either. Can you imagine being raised by parents who run a carnival?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I should check in with her when I’m back in Bristal this weekend to see how she’s doing.”
“You’re going back?” Violet’s eyebrows pinch, and I realize that with all our studying, I forgot to tell her about my conversation with my mom last night.
“Just for one day.” I grab her coffee and hand it to her. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. My mom won’t stop texting me about my brother. She’s worried and wants me at family dinner on Sunday. I need to see how he’s doing with my own eyes.”
“He’s still not speaking to anyone, right? Even though he’s out of Montgomery.”
I shake my head. “Not that I’ve heard.”
My heart sinks at that thought. What I wouldn’t give to hear my brother’s voice. His laugh. They might have been few and far between growing up, but they were always comforting.
One of the hardest parts of what happened to my brother isn’t that he almost died; it’s that a piece of him actually did. He isn’t the same person I grew up with.
My best friend.
The one person I could trust.
Alex walked out the other side of his trial a different man. And when that happened, he wasn’t the only one who lost something. I lost him, making me truly, entirely alone.
It’s selfish, and I hate myself for it. But it’s true.
“How are you feeling about seeing your mom?”
I shrug. “Like I better find something nice to wear or I’m going to hear about it for the next year.”
“She’s that particular?”
“You have no idea.”
People chastise me for being cold and judgmental. That’s only because they haven’t been face-to-face with Ursa Lancaster.
“Well, I’ll send good luck your way.”
“Thanks.” If only that were enough.
Taking a sip of my hot coffee, the steam isn’t enough to warm the chill running through me at the thought of facing my mother this weekend.
Nothing is.
“No. No. No.” Mom rips shirt after shirt from the shopping bag, slicing a knife through them. “This is my fault for letting you shop with your friends.”
“Not the black one.” I hold up my hands as she takes the next shirt from the bag and holds the blade to it.
“Do you want to look as if you’re attending a funeral, Patience?” Mom narrows her eyes. “A lady doesn’t wear black unless someone has died.”
She doesn’t break my gaze as she cuts through it, throwing it onto the pile.
When she said I could shop with my friends today, I thought maybe things were turning around. That I could be my own person for once. I should have known better than to entertain any flicker of hope.
The moment I walked through the door, Mom’s mood shifted. And now, she’s taking it out on me like she always does.
“What else are you hiding in here?” Mom throws open my closet doors, and I shoot to standing.
“Those are just my clothes.”
“Your clothes?” Mom laughs. “Nothing is yours, Patience. You’re fifteen. You don’t own one thing in this room, not even yourself. And with shirts like this”—she holds up a frilly pink top—“that will never change. What man wants someone who still dresses like a little girl?”
“I don’t want a man.” My heart starts to race.
Her comments about me impressing men have become more frequent lately, and I’m starting to get a bad feeling about it.
“What you want is irrelevant.” Mom destroys the pink top and throws it to the floor. “We all play our roles in this family. You’re getting older now. Stop crying and start acting like it.”
I hate that a tear rolls down my cheek at her words. That she’s using them against me.
Mom reaches into my closet and pulls something from the back. “What’s this awful mess?”
“Don’t, that’s from Grandma!” I step forward.
The navy-blue dress is the last gift she left me.
She thought it might be fitting for a school dance someday and wanted me to have it for when the time was right.
When she had a heart attack a few weeks later, the dress became something of hers to hold on to.
She was one of the only women in the family who actually showed love, rather than using it as a bargaining chip.
“Your grandmother always had terrible taste.” Mom sneers, looking the dress up and down.
“Please don’t. She gave that to me.” I drop to my knees on the carpet, like that will be enough.
I know better.
Nothing is enough for my mother. She uses her regrets and pain like a weapon, making us all suffer alongside her for whatever in her life ruined all the good in her heart.
“We don’t always get what we want in life, Patience. How many times do I have to tell you that?” She swipes the blade down the center of the dress, ruining the last piece of my grandmother, tossing it to the side like it’s nothing.
Like I’m nothing. Maybe she’s right.