Chapter 5 #2
As soon as I pulled into the driveway of my childhood home, my mum came flying out the door. I rushed from the SUV and straight into her arms.
Tears clogged my throat when we embraced as if we hadn’t seen each other in years.
“It’s so good to have you home, sweetheart,” she whispered, not hiding her tears. Mum never hid a single emotion.
I always knew, despite her not being my birth mother, that she loved me as if I were her own.
And I knew then, with sudden, jarring clarity, that I wanted to come home.
For good.
Even with Fyfe’s ugly confession ringing in my ears.
I wanted to come home.
Only … I didn’t know how to make it happen without admitting I’d failed.
An hour had passed. I’d forced a hug on my wee sister Morwenna who clearly resented my sudden desire to be more involved in her life.
Dad was at work, so I knew I’d see him when he returned.
Tired, I decided to take a nap. Morwenna was in what used to be my room, so I settled into my parents’ smaller guest room, a room that used to be Mor’s.
Callie and Lewis were crashing in the guest annex while damage to the cottage was being repaired after the break-in.
Lewis had no furniture in his new place yet, so they couldn’t stay there.
I happily took the guest room in the main house.
And not just because Callie and Lewis needed the privacy of the annex more than me.
I’d never told anyone, but I hated the place.
I’d hated it ever since Mum’s ex-friend tied us up and left us in there when we were kids.
I was so young. I didn’t remember much from that age, but I remembered every second of that terrifying night.
It was before Regan was technically our mother.
She was still our nanny at the time. What we didn’t know, but I’d learned later as a teen, was that Mum was running from an old friend who was in love with her.
She had no idea how obsessed he’d become until he showed up in Ardnoch and broke into the house.
Mum and Dad weren’t home. Our aunt Eredine was babysitting.
It’s funny how so many of those early childhood years were a vague mashup of feeling rather than memory, but there were some moments I remembered as if they’d happened yesterday.
The moment that strange man appeared and knocked out Aunt Ery, only to manhandle me and Lewis into the annex to tie us up, was vivid.
I could still hear Lewis screaming my name as he tried to fight the man off.
Could hear my brother’s terror for me and his little boy rage that he couldn’t protect me.
I could still smell that man’s aftershave. To this day, anytime I caught a whiff of the familiar designer cologne, I felt nauseated. It sounds awful, but I was relieved he’d been killed. He’d attacked Mum and in defending herself, he went flying over a cliff into the North Sea.
That year was traumatic. But kids are resilient. We were resilient. And we got Mum out of it.
Still.
I hated that bloody annex.
I was settling onto the guest bed for a power nap when my phone vibrated on the nightstand.
Reaching out, I swiped the screen, and a burning pang lit across my breast.
Are we okay?
Fyfe’s text glared at me.
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I put the phone down and grabbed the remote for the blackout blinds. As soon as the room plunged into darkness, I closed my eyes.
The tears leaked free.
Yet somehow, out of sheer exhaustion, I drifted to sleep.
When I woke, I had a missed call from Fyfe.
Sighing, I groggily texted back.
Why wouldn’t we be okay?
He replied immediately.
What I said to Lew came off harsher than I meant.
Hurt pierced me.
But he had meant it.
It’s all good. You and I can take a roast.
Aye, good. Glad you’re back. Hopefully see you tomorrow at Lew’s.
Yup. Anyway, gonna go spend some time with the fam. Talk later.
See you tomorrow.
I threw my phone down on the bed, abandoning it, so I could give my family the full attention they deserved.
Everyone was downstairs and I realized I’d slept longer than I meant to.
Dad swept me up into a bear-crushing hug that caused a painful lump of emotion to burn in my throat.
It didn’t help he cupped my face in his hands and searched it like he knew there was something terribly wrong.
I grinned cockily for him, trying to dissuade the concern I saw in his eyes.
Shrugging on my best acting skills, I hugged Callie next, joking about her as yet nonexistent pregnant belly, and gave my family the version of me they were used to.
The version that didn’t have a care in the world.
They bought it.
Or at least they pretended to buy it.
Because any time someone tried to push me to be honest with them, I disappeared.
And I knew them so well. I knew they were scared I was going to disappear for good if they pushed too hard.
Hating myself for making the people I loved feel that way, I cloaked myself in the part I played, with the promise to figure out my bloody life. And soon. Before I missed any more of what was truly important.