Chapter 51
Selena
I watched my mother flit about the room, fiddling with the blinds, then the mini-fridge, then the flowers by the bed. I wished she’d just sit down and relax already.
“Gosh, a private suite, and they don’t even change the water for the flowers every day.”
Cici caught my eye and hid a smile behind her hand.
She was curled up in one of the oversized visitors’ chairs by the window, wrapped in a huge hoodie and looking cozy.
She was on break from school for the week.
Though, with the way things stood between Marjory and John, I didn’t know what was happening.
Her school was usually paid for on an annual basis, so she should be able to finish the year, but I had no idea what John Sinclair was capable of.
He was angry, and I wasn’t sure I could blame him. My mother had been cheating on him with her childhood sweetheart. I’d always known that my mother had come close to marrying someone else when she was young, before she’d met my father.
Now, there wasn’t much of a point in regretting the past. What was done, was done.
My phone was conspicuously silent on the nightstand. Brody texted me a few times a day. Short and commanding, he told me to rest, not to worry about things, get better, he was taking care of everything.
I didn’t know what to think or feel. He’d been having a PI follow my mother, even when he and I were… doing whatever it was we’d been doing. Hooking up? Fooling around? I’d thought it had been more, but now, considering his silence, I was doubting myself.
“Mom, just sit down. We need to decide what we’re going to do,” I said tiredly. I wanted out of the hospital so badly, and today was finally the day.
My mom nodded and sank down into a chair.
“So, what’s the plan? What have you heard from John?”
“I was served the divorce papers. According to the prenup and the morality clause, we get nothing from the rich bastard.”
“A morality clause,” I repeated slowly.
She nodded, miserable. “If you cheat, you get nothing.”
Hmm, Brody had probably banked on catching my mother red-handed so he could use it.
He’d been strategic and methodical, and he’d gotten the results he wanted.
While I understood it, it hurt my heart to know that he’d been sleeping with me, making me fall in love with him, all while meeting with his PI, gathering information on my mother, and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“Travis lives in Queens. We can go and stay there with him—”
“No,” I said quickly. “I have to finish at HHU. I have a scholarship here. I can’t lose it.”
“And where are you going to live?”
“I’ll try and get some dorm housing, or something,” I muttered, knowing my chances weren’t good, but unable to consider giving up quite so soon.
I didn’t want to leave Winter, or Aisha, or any of the girls I’d become close with since my life had changed dramatically.
I didn’t want to drop out of school or quit my part-time jobs.
The thought of withdrawing from the play made me want to cry.
“And if that doesn’t work out, then what?” my mother demanded.
“Winter offered—”
“You can’t go leeching off your rich friends. They’ll only resent you for it in the future.”
I zoned out as my mother continued to rant, not wanting to argue with her.
Winter wouldn’t resent helping me, I was sure of that, but there was no point trying to make my mother understand.
She’d talked to Marcus about some small property his brother had just bought that needed fixing up.
He suggested that I help him out by living there while the work was done.
I knew what they were doing. Trying to make me feel like less of a leech and somehow helpful.
The worst part was that I didn’t have any alternative.
Brody’s face forced itself to the front of my mind, and I pushed it away. He’d all but disappeared, so why would I go to him for help?
“Look, I don’t want to talk about that right now. Where are we going later?” I asked.
John’s divorce papers had made it clear that my mother was banned from going back to the house. It was embarrassing, to say the least.
“I have a motel room for the rest of the week,” my mom said. “It’ll last us until we get ready to move to New York and Cici is back in school.”
I nodded. I wasn’t going to New York anytime soon, but now wasn’t the time to argue about that. A motel would be fine for today, until I figured out a plan.
“There’s the doctor,” my mother announced, already back up and fussing. “Hopefully he’ll discharge you early and we can get out of here. I’ve had enough of trespassing on the Sinclairs’ generosity.”
The motel was depressing after the Sinclair house, but I’d stayed in worse.
My mood was remarkably resilient after the experience with Nick.
I really was stronger than I’d given myself credit for.
More than that, the whole thing had been oddly healing.
I’d fought back; I’d changed the narrative.
I’d taken control. For a year, I hadn’t had any control.
It had been buried in the ground with Trent when he’d died.
But in Nick’s family cabin in the woods, I’d been able to rewrite my story.
I felt stronger than I ever had before. I’d watched a documentary on Japanese pottery in the hospital, while desperately trying not to obsess over Brody and his silence.
Kintsugi was the art of repairing broken pottery with gold.
The finished pieces were more beautiful than an unflawed, unbroken one.
Glittering gold filled the cracks and made it stronger.
So, a broken but reformed piece was stronger than one that had never been tested.
I felt like a piece of formerly broken china, now veined with gold. Stronger than ever before.
I sat on the couch in the motel room while Cici and my mom unpacked a few things.
I was so grateful that Cici would soon be going back to school and wouldn’t have to endure the fallout once the media got wind of my mom and John’s quickie divorce due to infidelity.
My silent phone mocked me from the table.
“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” I told my mom and Cici, getting up and grabbing the crutch I’d been walking with to take the pressure off my foot.
“You’ve got a sore foot, why are you walking?” my mom demanded.
I didn’t know how to explain to her that while I knew we’d get through this, and while I was going to sleep better at night than I had in a year, my heart was slowly breaking.
Every day that Brody didn’t come and tell me what the hell was going on, my faith slipped a little, even though I tried not to let it.
“I just need some air.”
I took myself outside. The motel wasn’t far from the middle of town. I limped along Main Street, greeting people I knew here and there. Hade Harbor felt different knowing that both Preston brothers were in the hospital and awaiting trial.
It was early evening, and the sidewalk was bustling. Shops spilled out their warmth and light into the darkening day, and cars passed leisurely along the street. That was, until one screeched to a loud stop right beside me.
I glanced at the road, attention drawn by the squealing of brakes.
It was Brody’s car.
Nerves flashed through me, edged with anticipation. Finally, I could hear from the man himself what the hell was going on.
He jumped out of the car and slammed the door hard, barely having pulled over properly.
The car behind Brody honked, seeing as they had to mount the sidewalk to get past him, but he ignored them. He was back to the haughty, arrogant prince who didn’t bother to give peasants a second glance.
“Move your car, it’s blocking the road,” I said, folding my arms over my chest as well as I could while holding a crutch. “Retirement home chic” was a look, right?
“They can get around,” he snapped.
“No, they can’t.”
“Then their cars are too damn big. Where the hell have you been?” he demanded hotly.
I stared up at him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. I’d missed the asshole so much, but I’d be damned if I let him know it.
“The hospital, did you forget?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t be smart with me. You managed to get discharged early and yet never came home.”
“Home? What home are you referring to?” I wondered.
A muscle ticked in Brody’s jaw. “You know which one. Our home,” he stated flatly.
I stared at him before laughing. “I don’t know what to say to that. You clearly didn’t want it to be our home forever, seeing as you went out of your way to make sure our parents got divorced.”
He let out a long sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Look, I know I’ve been MIA the last few days. I had to go to New York to see my father.”
“Is he finally giving you a promotion for all your hard work to expose the gold digger?” I snorted.
Brody paused a second and shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this on the street, and I can’t stand here and watch you swaying around on a crutch with a goddamn smashed-up foot.”
“Too bad. Not everything works according to your schedule,” I bit out and realized how angry I was. I was furious, actually, that he’d left me alone for days without the slightest update on what was going on. I wiped an unwanted, angry tear off my cheek.
“Heathen,” he started.
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me anything right now,” I said, then yelped as he suddenly stepped closer to me, cupped my cheek with his hand, and spoke softly.
“Forgive me.”
Then he bent at the waist and draped me over his shoulder.
“Hey! Put me down,” I protested, thumping his shoulder with my fist.
“I will, just not yet.”
He lowered me into his car and straightened up before I could smack him in the face.
He carefully raised my injured foot inside and then shut the door, rounding the car and jumping into the driver’s side.
“This is kidnapping, I’ll have you know.”
“You wanted me to move the car. I’m moving the car.”
“Not with me in it!”