Chapter Twenty #2
She crosses her arms, eyes rolling. “I’m talking about the debt your brother-in-law saddled my son with. I knew you were after his money, but I didn’t realize your family was this pathetic too.”
My jaw clenches. I walk over to the sofa, just to put some distance between us. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Chloe’s voice cuts through the air. “So, you’re gonna play it like this?
First, you trap Matthew with a baby, and now you’re using my granddaughter to make him pay thirty thousand dollars.
Which, by the way, he doesn’t even have.
And even worse? You’ve managed to drive a wedge between us so deep he won’t even accept help from me.
You won’t work, and what, he’s just supposed to take care of everything alone? ”
Her words slam into me, one after another, like punches I didn’t see coming. My knees give a little, and I sink down onto the sofa before I can stop myself.
Debt. That’s what he’s been hiding. Not work, not stress. Debt.
My mind spins. Thirty thousand dollars? My family? What the hell!
The front door opens just then, the sound of keys scraping against the lock. I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
The liar.
He swallows before asking, voice tight, “What’s going on?”
Matthew
I ask it because I genuinely can’t comprehend what inspired my mother to come here and tell Brooke, this, when I specifically, explicitly asked her not to.
I knew I shouldn’t have told her. God, I knew. But she’d cornered me the way only ma’s can, voice soft, full of concern, and I’d been holding it in for so long that when she asked, it all just… came pouring out.
Brooke’s voice cuts through the silence, colder than I’ve ever heard it. “Your mother was just telling me how I’m making you pay off my family’s debt alone. See, she thinks I know. When the truth is, I have no idea, because her son doesn’t trust me enough to tell me.”
She’s sitting rigid on the couch, shoulders pulled tight, like she’s trying to hold herself together through sheer willpower. Her eyes meet mine, and I wish they didn’t. Because the look in them isn’t just anger. It’s hurt. It’s betrayal.
“Brooke-” I start, stepping toward her.
She lifts a hand, stopping me mid-step. “I have to feed Penny.” Her voice is calm, controlled. That’s worse than yelling.
She gets up, not looking at me or my mother. Before stepping away, Brooke turns back, just enough to say, clear and sharp,
“Make sure she’s gone by the time I get back.” With that she’s gone.
I turn to my mom. She doesn’t even look guilty. Her arms are crossed, chin tilted up, like she’s done me some grand favour.
“What the hell did you do?” I whisper. My voice isn’t loud, but it’s shaking. Because if I yell, I’ll break something and right now, I can’t afford to break anything else.
She meets my eyes, unflinching. “I did what you couldn’t, honey,” she says calmly. “Why can’t you see she’s taking advantage of you? How can you expect her to be a good mother when she comes from thieves, drug addicts, and murderers?”
The air leaves my lungs all at once.
“How can you expect me to be a good father,” I say, voice low and sharp, “when I come from a deadbeat and a bitch?”
Her mouth falls open in shock. “How dare you,” she gasps. “I raised you alone.”
“Exactly,” I fire back. “You raised me. I’m raised. Your days of meddling in my life to ‘show me the way’ are over.”
Her nostrils flare. “I’m not meddling. I’m protecting you.”
“Jesus, Ma,” I say, dragging a hand down my face. “Just admit it. You’re jealous.”
Her mouth snaps shut. She stares at me like I’ve slapped her. “I am not jealous.”
“Yes, you are,” I say, voice quieter now but deadly clear. “You resent that Brooke gets to stay home while you had to go to work the week after you gave birth. You resent that she gets the life you wanted.”
She looks away, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
“I love you, Ma,” I continue, the words heavy in my chest. “But your inability to accept Brooke and my choices has only left me with one option. I’m done.”
Her head jerks toward me, eyes wide. “Matthew…” she breathes, horrified.
“You used something I told you in confidence to hurt Brooke. You didn’t even consider you were breaking my trust too.”
“Matthew-” she starts again, but I’m done.
I walk to the door, yank it open, and say evenly, “Please leave.”
She doesn’t move.
“Leave,” I say louder this time.
Something in my tone finally registers. She moves slowly, like she expects me to stop her.
I don’t.
The door thuds shut behind her, louder than I mean it to be. The echo hangs in the hallway, then dies.
For a beat I just stand there, staring at the door. I very well may have just ended my relationship with my mother. What else could I have done?
She finally did something I couldn’t explain away, even to myself. I know how hard she had to work raising me without a man, and now she wants the same for Brooke.
Letting out a sigh, I turn toward the hall that leads to the bedrooms. I could go after Brooke. I want to. But Penny’s asleep, and I won’t turn this into a scene in front of our daughter.
So, I drop onto the couch and wait.
It takes more than an hour. Long enough that I realise, I can’t fix this without the truth, I’ll just tell her everything and let the chips fall.
When Brooke finally comes out, she’s not teary. Of course she isn’t. Her face is cool, controlled, the kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. She just stands in the middle of the room, arms folded, waiting.
I start at the beginning. The park after her baby shower. Zeke. The number. The lunches. The email from the bank. The missing card. The promise to pay me back. The vanishing act. Every stupid, gullible step I took laid out between us like evidence bags on a table.
Her jaw tightens once, then sets. When I finish, she says, flat, “I thought the limit on the card was fifteen.”
“It was.” I swallow. “He used about thirteen in the first month. Fifteen in the second. I found out on the first of this month and by then he’d already maxed it.”
She doesn’t flinch. “Didn’t you get notifications? Emails when it was used?”
I shake my head. “New card, I never turned them on. And the bank says they’ll only reverse the charges if I file a police report, and I couldn’t do that unless…”
“…unless you’re willing to send Zeke to jail.” The realization clicks in her eyes. She looks away for a beat, thinking, then back at me. “Do it.”
I blink. “Just like that?”
She lifts a shoulder, but there’s nothing casual about it. “Stella would rather keep her kids safe than watch us drown. We’re not saving him at our expense.” She reaches into her pocket. “I’ll call her and-”
“I already told her,” I say, looking at her in a completely different light. “And you’re right. She said the exact same thing.”
Brooke blinks once, then her jaw tightens. “You told her before you told me?”
“I was trying to save your relationship,” I say, too quickly.
“My relationship?” she snaps, pointing a finger at her chest. Her voice isn’t raised, but the quiet edge in it slices clean through me. “You had no right.”
My jaw locks. “I’m your husband.”
“And what if she’d said no?” Brooke fires back without missing a beat. “What if she’d asked you not to report? What would you have done then?”
“But she didn’t,” I say, not understanding why she’s fixating on that.
Brooke steps closer, eyes sharp and furious. “What if she had, Matthew?” she repeats, slower this time, like she wants me to feel every word. “Would you have eaten the twenty-eight thousand dollars? Or gone against her? What the hell were you thinking?”
“Well, she didn’t,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “Anyway, I’m gonna file the report first thing tomorrow and-”
She cuts me off before I can finish. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I tilt my head slightly, caught off guard.
“Not just about the theft,” she says, “about hanging out with Zeke. Why keep him a secret from me, Matthew? Why don’t you trust me?”
I open my mouth then close it again, honesty will not win me any points here.