Chapter 20 #4
Tears pitter-pattered on the floor as I bent over, holding my head against the edge of the mattress. I don’t know why I had tried to get free from her grip; it was impossible; the woman wouldn’t stop. She was relentless.
With shaking hands, I tossed the dress on the bed and wiped my eyes as I instinctually moved for the locket on the dresser.
As silly as it was, especially now that she was so chaotic, Hester felt more like a mother to me than my own mom.
Even in the moments that I feared her, I didn’t think Hester would ever hurt me intentionally just because she wanted me to hurt.
Even when she had, I knew she was trying to tell me something that I hadn’t figured out yet.
Maybe I was delusional or stupid, but I’d even started to find the lingering scent of Chanel No.
5 comforting in a weird way. Hester trusted me to help with her whole life—or death—and that meant something to me.
I felt supported when she would linger in the conservatory or hallways with me.
My mother didn’t even trust me enough to make my own dinner choices.
I palmed the golden locket and prepared to open it, holding it away and bracing myself for whatever might fly out of it and bite me, though, to be honest, I would’ve welcomed it right then.
I clicked it, and the warm gold fell open, showing my own tearstained face squinting back at me, a small mirror on the inside.
There was movement. A small inscription carved itself across the mirror in beautifully elaborate cursive.
Your worth is not held in her words.
I choked on a sob, snapped the locket shut, and slammed the oval pendant on the dresser; the chain slid over the top of my hand and onto the worn wood. It wasn’t even a clue to help her; she’d used her energy just to be there for me. I couldn’t take the kindness. Didn’t deserve it.
Hester’s thoughtful words cut through, pressing into my deepest vulnerabilities, cauterizing some of the wounds my own mother had just opened.
This was too much. Everything I’d been carrying began to topple down.
All of the frustration, anger, and sadness I’d tamped down came flooding back, buzzing under my skin like a thousand bees waiting to sting.
I was angrier than I’d ever been and had nowhere to channel it.
My body trembled as the sound of my loud gasps clapped through the silence of the room.
I was hyperventilating, and as angry as I was, I still couldn’t seem to make the tears stop flowing from my dry, blurry eyes, which only made me angrier.
There was no way I could go to dinner with Jasper now, not like this.
Angrily, I dug through my plastic clothes basket on the floor until I found a white cotton tank top and a pair of shorts.
I took off my bathrobe and put the pajamas on while disappointment curled around me.
I had wanted to do dinner so bad, but now I couldn’t.
Everything flowed so easily with Jasper that I couldn’t keep myself together around him, and right now, I was so full of barely restrained anger that I would probably end up crying the whole time.
I grabbed my phone and texted Jasper, apologizing and telling him something had come up.
Not even five minutes later, there was a loud knock on my door. I braced myself and realized I was waiting to hear my mother’s voice. I stopped my angry pacing to run to the door and try and look through the crack. It wouldn’t be her; she couldn’t have made it that quickly, but I still panicked.
“Eliza, let me in. Are you okay? What happened?” Jasper called, banging loudly again. Each knock shook the walls, making the old paintings tremble as they hung.
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to pull myself together enough to deal with him. “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My voice was low and surprisingly a little threatening. I couldn’t help it. Things were impossible to mask with him.
“What happened? Is it your mom?” he said more gently.
I rolled my eyes again and looked down at my outfit. You could see the pigment of my nipples through the fabric. It was so worn and dingy. I opened the door and poked my head out, keeping my body hidden behind it. I needed to get rid of him so I could curl up and cry.
“Nothing happened. I’m fine,” I growled at him.
Of course, he had on a fresh outfit with black dress pants and a crisp, dark hunter-green dress shirt that made his brown hair and eyes pop against his tanned skin.
For some unknown reason, seeing him standing outside my door looking so fucking hot made me even more mad.
I glared at him and moved to shove the door closed on him.
A surprised expression blanketed his face before he blocked it, easily pushing the door open and slipping through so fast that I slammed it closed behind him when I shoved at it again.
“You’re not fine. What’s going on?” His eyes darted over my body, looking for clues. When they found nothing, they returned to my eyes, chaotically dancing as he gathered information and tried to figure out what had happened.
“Sure, come right on in.” I waved my hand dramatically. “Not like I have a say in anything anyway,” I snapped. I wasn’t angry at him. “Aaagh!” I growled. “I’m sorry. I’m just angry and upset, and if you stay, I will take it out on you. I can’t do dinner right now.”
He appraised me for another silent minute, as though deciding if he should leave. He let out a sigh and straightened his posture.
“Want to shoot or stab something? I’ll let you in the addition,” he asked gently.
“No,” I snapped. I couldn’t believe I was turning down seeing the secret weapons lair, but honestly Katya saw it the other day and told me it was way more boring than what we’d thought—a room with weapons. Shocker.
“Okay,” he said, taking a stiff seat on the edge of my bed.
“Okay, what?” I nearly yelled. Having him on my bed did not guide my lonely, upset brain to any smart distractions.
His eyes roamed over my body, snagging on my very visible nipples before landing on my eyes.
“You can take it out on me. I’m ready. Give me your best shot—are we talking physical or mental?
” he asked, standing back up and suavely removing his jacket before rolling up the cuffs of his shirtsleeves.
His large arms rippled against the snug dress shirt with the movement.
I sat back on my heels and gawked, temporarily frozen. “You’re going to let me hit you?”
“If it will make you feel better, though I’d rather you just talk to me and tell me what happened,” he said.
“I’m not going to hit you; I’m so frustrated and hurt and angry, and damn it, Jasper, I don’t want to get into all of this with you. You won’t understand, no one ever understands, they think I’m being a sheltered baby,” I shouted.
His jaw tightened. “Your mother. What’s she done now, sold you off to make mulch for the environment? All right, all right,” he said when I glared at him.
“I don’t understand it. I don’t know why I can’t fucking talk to her like I talk to you. Every time I try, I end up crying. Ugh!” I snarled and returned to pacing the room just to get the angry feeling out of my legs. “I’m so angry, I feel like I’m going to combust.”
“Go on the balcony,” he said as he walked over and began to push the small Victorian couch away from where it blocked the double doors.
What the fuck was he doing? “I’m not going on the balcony,” I said, shaking my head and stepping backward.
“Afraid I’ll push you over the ledge?” he asked sarcastically, but his careful words were unable to hide a hint of vulnerability.
Our eyes locked for a long minute. He actually wanted to know if I was afraid of him and that was his way of asking.
“No. I trust you,” I said finally—a revelation to myself as well as him.
A thread of relief filled his eyes, and back was the overly confident bad boy. “Now, why would you do something that?” His voice was low and raspy. He slowly walked to me, stopping when he was right in front of me.
For another minute, we remained in the silence of my bedroom with locked eyes. It felt like the space around us should be crackling with fire.
“I don’t know why I trust you, but I do,” I snapped. “I think you’re capable of horrible things—but I don’t think you’d hurt me.”
“Then come to the balcony with me. Let’s face one of your fears together. Release some of that adrenaline. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Eliza,” he said, reaching out and gently covering my vibrating hand with his.
Was I actually thinking about this? It did seem oddly more appealing right now, in my anger. “Okay,” I said apprehensively, waiting for him to guide me to the doors.
When he remained still, I looked up at him in silent question.
“Don’t look at me. This is your move. You’re the one in control of this,” he said in a cocky tone but with reassuring eyes.
He squeezed my hand, and for a quarter of a second, it felt like I could do anything, and he would be there to catch me.
Emboldened, I took a few short steps toward the balcony door before my confidence wavered, and my knees began to shake. I whirled back around, trying to drop his hand, but he refused to let go.
“I can’t. You don’t understand,” I stammered, hating how whiny I sounded. My fear gripped my nerves, reminding me that just because I was upset didn’t mean I’d grown wings and was suddenly unafraid.
“You can. You’re the one who doesn’t understand, Eliza. Take your time; I’m in no rush.”
He took a step closer to me and put his hands on my waist, spinning me around until the balcony doors were right in front of my face. I pinched my eyes closed and grabbed his hands as they remained a firm, steady presence on my waist.
Why was I even thinking about this? This wasn’t going to do anything but give me a heart attack. I knew if I went out onto that balcony, I would fall off it. I could feel it. I wasn’t going to be an idiot and poke fate like that.