41. Forever
FOREVER
My mother was pretending to be asleep.
I could tell by the way her chest rose and fell; it was too unnatural. A little too perfect.
I sat at the edge of her bed, one leg tucked under me as I watched the performance.
The private facility had been her pet project before she sold it, designed to look less clinical and more comfortable for people going through mental health crises.
It was still a psychiatric facility, though.
No amount of hotel-style décor could mask that truth.
Just like no amount of fake sleeping could hide the fact that my mother was in a mood to play around.
“I don’t have all day, Quinn,” I said, flicking the bottom of her exposed foot. “You know I sense you’re awake.”
She laughed, the sound bursting from her chest like she’d been holding it in, and flipped the blanket back. Her eyes were bright and full of life now that her meds were starting to regulate.
To me, my mother had always been unserious about almost everything, but the more time I spent in her presence, the more I realized it was just a front.
“You always were too perceptive for your own good,” she said, adjusting the pillows behind her back. “It’s why I tried to teach you to fake sleep when you were little.”
I let that sit between us for a moment, wondering if she was making it up or if I really didn’t remember all the important things from my childhood.
“Why did you drug me when I was eleven?” I asked, jumping straight to the reason I’d come.
There was no point in small talk or circling what I needed to know. I’d conclude that I couldn’t be everything Demetrius needed if I wasn’t actively facing a past I knew was a little murky.
My ma’s smile disappeared in an instant. Her eyes drilled into me with an intensity that gave me pause.
“You don’t want to die anymore?” she asked instead of answering my question. “Is it because you remember him now?”
The question took me aback, the abrupt shift knocking me mentally off-balance. I’d expected deflection, not an interrogation about my suicidal thoughts. Not questions about Demetrius. The way she said him carried weight, like she knew exactly what he meant to me before I did.
“What are you talking about?”
“Destiny LaPorte came by to see me,” she went on, moving the conversation in a completely different direction.
The sudden pivot irritated me.
“What does that have to—”
“I have a spa appointment set for later this afternoon,” she continued, not giving me a chance to get a word in edgewise. Her eyes flicked to the window, then back to me. “Go in my place and I’ll tell you, even though I don’t want to.”
The way she said it made my chest tighten with unexpected… sadness? For all our differences, for all the secrets and lies between us, she was still my mother. I slid closer to her and took one of her hands in mine. Her fingers were cold like always.
“Ma,” I whispered, looking into eyes that matched my own. “Can you just tell me if something happened to me back then? Have I been forgetting things all my life?”
I hated the desperation in my voice. Because it only reminded me how equally afraid I was of learning the truth.
What if what happened was so terrible that my mind had been protecting me all these years? What if remembering broke something in me that couldn’t be fixed?
What if he doesn’t want me anymore?
I shook that thought away as soon as it materialized.
My mother grabbed my face gently out of nowhere, her thumb stroking my skin softly. For a moment, I thought she might actually answer me. Then her hand dropped away.
“Will you go to the spa appointment? It’s important you do that.”
“Yes, I’ll go.”
I tried to hide my disappointment and sat patiently, hoping she would answer at least one of my questions. But as the silence stretched between us, growing heavier with each passing second, I realized I’d get nothing more out of her today.
The spa appointment was the price for information, and she wouldn’t budge until I’d paid it.
“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” I said, standing and turning toward the door. “I know my husband came to see you. Did you tell him?”
I had put a tracker on him when we parted that day, and seen his location pinned at the facility for almost an hour. I pretended not to know until I was ready to face it, but deep down, I knew I’d never really be ready.
All of my effort now had to do with wanting to be the best version of myself for Demetrius. I craved that more than anything.
“Yes, because I’m convinced he loves every fiber of your being and will protect you.”
Her words held a finality that told me our conversation was over. But that had been all I needed to hear, confirmation that my husband knew about my past and could fill in the blanks when I was ready.
I left without a word and headed to EG, my mind churning with questions. When I pushed through the revolving doors, I spotted Tristian Cannon immediately. He was arguing with security, his animated gestures drawing more attention than was probably wise for the new climate we were forcing on them.
He spotted me mid-argument.
“Forever! Tell these fools I’m with you,” he shouted, waving at security.
I squinted at him, contemplating leaving him to deal with the mess he’d made, even turned as if to walk away. Since leaving the little troublemaker wasn’t an option, I lifted my hand and signaled for security to let him through.
“Thought you were about to leave me hanging,” Tristian said, a big-ass smile spreading across his boyish face as he jogged over to me.
Despite myself, I found it infectious. He had that Cannon charm.
“I promise I’m not here to interrupt your day with bullsh… nonsense…” He glanced at me after correcting himself, as if I’d be offended by his language. “But I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I could tell whatever was on his mind was bothering him.
“Come on,” I said, heading toward the elevators. “We’ll talk in my office.”
As the elevator climbed, I studied his reflection in the doors.
Tristian had Arland’s height and Oliver’s eyes, but there was something unmistakably Demetrius living inside of it.
It was strange to think of my husband as an authority figure to this kid, but then again, he was an authority figure to most people.
The doors slid open, and I led him down the corridor to my office. He followed closely, his head turning to take in everything as we walked. Once inside, he stood in the middle of the room and scanned the place, turning in a full circle like he was committing it all to memory.
“I bet there’s a safe behind that painting and a hidden door right there,” he said, more to himself than to me, pointing to the section of bookshelf that did, in fact, conceal the passage.
I whistled sharply, and his eyes immediately met mine.
“Let’s start with whether you snuck off the compound or not?” I asked, settling behind my desk.
He shook his head and pulled his backpack off.
“I go to school in the city, most of the kids do. Some of them are home schooled. Did I slip security when they came to pick up, though?”
He smiled, and I nodded, tucking that information away for later. It made sense.
“Alright…” I waved to the chair in front of me. “Have a seat and tell me what’s up.”
Tristian followed the command and leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees. His eyes fixed on mine in a way that belied his youth.
“You can’t tell D,” he said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.
I shook my head immediately. “That’s a promise I can’t make until after I know what I’m committing to. Never ask that again.”
He seemed taken aback by my directness, but understanding quickly dawned in his eyes. I could tell he was smart, perceptive, too. The perfect mix of Demetrius and Arland, too cool for anything but protective of everyone. The makings of a future family leader, if he played his cards right.
“You’re right. Won’t happen again,” he said, straightening slightly. “I think my aunt Velma is doing shady business behind the family’s back.”
I leaned back in my chair, surprised by the accusation. Velma didn’t seem shady, but anything was possible.
“What makes you think that?”
“She always whispering on the phone,” he said, purposely leaving out all the details. “And while D was away, she left the compound often and met with somebody on the west side in Collective territory.”
I nodded slowly, considering what was being said and what wasn’t. The west side was primarily Collective territory, which made Velma’s alleged meetings there troubling. The Cannons maintained their neutrality carefully; secret dealings with the Collective would upset that balance.
Or maybe she has a lover.
“You told someone else before coming to me?” I asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor when I did.
He glanced down at his hands.
“It was G,” he admitted, eyes wide with guilt. “She got really angry and made me leave. Then, she had the stroke, and I…” He shook his head, unable to finish the thought.
I stood and moved to sit in the chair beside him, bringing us to the same level.
“Can I ask why you didn’t go to your dad or Demetrius?”
Tristian’s eyes widened, as if the answer should be obvious.
“D will kill her. He won’t hesitate.”
His reaction surprised me. Not the assertion that Demetrius would kill Velma, I had no doubt my husband would eliminate any threat to his family without a second thought, but the way Tristian said it. Like it was a problem.
“You don’t want her to die?” I asked, studying his face.
He shook his head and leaned closer.
“Of course not, but if she dies before we even know what she’s been doing, how does that help the family?”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. Tossed my head back and let out a full-bodied laugh that had been building since he walked into my office. The kid wasn’t concerned about his aunt’s welfare at all.
“Why you laughing? It was smart coming to you and not them, right?”
His question silenced me.