Chapter Thirteen #2
My mind flashes through a thousand fragments: ornate trees in cavernous, silent houses; gifts from my nanny; parents who didn't show; Europe in winter—train rides alone, hotel-room dinners, pool halls smelling of second chances and regret. Instead of getting lost in those memories, Anna’s face and her milk-drunk sighs come to mind.
The warmth of her tiny fingers curling around mine, the way her entire body softens in sleep when she knows I’m near.
“I… I don’t have great memories from Christmases with my parents.
But I think… this one will be my favorite.
And every one after. I want Anna to have the kind of Christmas mornings I never did—to come down the stairs, knowing I’ll be there, waiting with the biggest smile, blasting cheesy Christmas songs while she rips open presents even at 5 AM. ”
We keep walking, the sound of our footsteps muffled by fresh snow. The conversation lingers, mirroring the space we pretend to keep.
“You’re a good mom.” He bumps my shoulder, this time on purpose.
It’s a simple phrase. One mothers hear all the time. But coming from him, it lands differently, because he doesn’t just see me as Anna’s mother. He sees me. The woman beneath all of it, with sharp edges, soft centers, and all the damn feelings I try to lock away.
“Is your wrist better?” he asks. “I noticed the rubber band wasn’t on it.”
There’s a gentleness in his voice, but the question is anything but casual. He’s not asking about my wrist, he’s asking what it means. Why did I take it off?
“Yeah. My wrist is fine.”
“Sydney…” His voice drops, dangerous truth hovering at the edge of his words, his hand soft against my elbow.
Voices drift from the back deck: Tom, Jules, Ivy, Mason. Laughing. Waiting. Margaret and Gary sleep unaware of the tremors shaking the cabin’s walls. And Anna. The one person I can’t let down.
I cut him off. “I think you should go up that way. I’ll go up the back stairs.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I hear what they betray. It’s an admission, plain and simple. That there’s something between us worth concealing. That no matter how innocent the walk was… it wasn’t innocent at all.
James stops walking and stares at me until he exhales a harsh puff of air. “Yeah. I’ll go around and wait a few minutes before heading out to the deck.”
His eyes hold mine a moment longer as he pulls off his beanie and runs his hand through his hair. He tilts his head, listening to the voices, and walks off into the trees. I tip my head back and slide my mask back into place. Pretend I’m not returning from anything more than a walk in the woods.
Jules spots me first. “She’s still out.”
“Thank you. Any wine open?”
“Here you go, love.” Mason hands me a glass, offering it as if this simple gesture could erase this morning’s sting. “How was your walk?”
“Fine.”
His smile falters when I don’t return it. I sink beside Jules, gripping my glass, trying to calm the storm inside.
“Hey, handsome. Where’d you escape to?” Ivy calls as James steps onto the deck.
“Ah, just relaxing for a bit.”
I keep my eyes on the flames, pulsing in the dark, a heartbeat too loud to ignore, matching my own.
God, if this were lust, it would be simple. Lust is easy, fleeting, physical. A spark you can burn through and walk away from. But this? This is something else entirely. It’s as silent and delicate as a web, spun tighter with every stolen moment.
A Pussycat Dolls song, sultry and provocative, cuts through the night. Jules stands in the center, hair blazing, hips already swaying.
“Come on, you sexy goddess.” Jules grabs my hands. “Time for a repeat performance.”
I hesitate, glancing toward Mason, rigid, hand gripping his glass.
The ease from before is gone. Is he reacting to James?
Or me? Did he notice our coincidental return?
But tonight, I refuse to shrink beneath his disapproval.
With a defiant lift of my chin, I surrender to the music and dance. Ivy hops in.
We become a tangle of limbs and laughter, casting aside inhibitions. My movements grow deliberate, sensual. My hands glide down my curves, tracing each dip as my knees bend and hips roll with confidence. I channel long-forgotten music videos and hazy college nights.
Am I doing this for myself? To see the look on James’s face? To make Mason see me?
Maybe all of the above.
The three of us dance wild under the stars, and I let myself get lost in the freedom.
Until Mason steps forward.
He grabs my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to make it clear it’s not a caress. His fingers press against my skin as he pulls me away.
“Syd, sit down and act like a mother.”
The words are quiet but laced with a sharpness that cuts through the evening air.
I pull back, but his fingers dig deeper.
Ivy lingers farther down the deck, back turned—too far to hear or unwilling to face what’s unfolding behind her—while everyone else’s attention zeroes in on his hand gripping my wrist. Something dark passes over James’s face.
Concern, yes, but also something primal, making him look ready to strike.
My pulse pounds in my ears, shame flooding my cheeks. I force a smile, brittle and defiant, and yank my hand free. I spin back and let the music reclaim me.
Tom pulls Mason aside. From their hushed, heated exchange, it’s clear Tom isn’t backing down.
“Fuck him.” Jules forces me to look at her.
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I blink them back. All he sees is me dancing, my smile wide and brazen. My body moves to the beat, a performance of boldness I don’t truly feel. Until at last I hear him walk inside and slam the door, and I can breathe again.
With Mason’s departure, the air shifts. Jules switches to a new song as Tom and James join. They twirl us around, taking turns with dips and spins. Easy and light. James keeps his distance, spinning Jules and Ivy while Tom takes my hand.
He wraps an arm around me. “I’ve been biting my tongue for too long. He might be Jules’s brother, but you deserve much better.”
“You’re a good man, Tom. Thank you for loving Jules as you do.”
“We’re not as rare as you think.” His eyes sweep over my shoulder to James, spinning Jules until she’s doubled over with laughter. I follow his gaze and swallow hard.
“I think it’s time I head upstairs.”
“Hold up, Syd. Want me to walk upstairs with you?”
“I’ll be fine.” I squeeze his hand as Jules clicks off the music.
We stand in an awkward circle, and I keep my eyes fixed on my feet.
“Should we put on a movie?” Ivy suggests filling the silence.
“Not tonight, Ives.” Jules cuts her off. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”
“Did I miss something?” Ivy’s voice softens, as if she’s only now realizing the tension.
“No, it’s nothing. Goodnight.” I slip away before anyone can respond.
Relief washes over me as I enter our empty room. I press the door closed, unable to shake his grip on my wrist, the sharpness of his words. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I breathe through the sting in my nose.
Is this what I want Anna to see?
A man grabbing you when he disapproves of how you’re acting? Directing your body like it belongs to him? I imagine Anna years from now, letting someone treat her this way because she grew up thinking it was normal. The thought makes me physically ill.
I wipe away my tears and draw in a shaky breath, letting my mind go where it shouldn’t.
To a man who offers something else entirely.
A world where James is beside me. Where I lean into his touch instead of pulling away.
Nights swaying together in the dark, our bodies moving in quiet harmony.
Mornings wrapped in blankets and books, Anna between us.
The scent of coffee and his cologne mingling as he makes breakfast while I feed her.
But that's false hope, gone in the blink of an eye.
One man touched my elbow so softly it ached; another grabbed my wrist hard enough to leave faint red marks. Try as I might, neither sensation fades. I wrap my arms around my ribs, absorbing the pain the only way I know—curling inward, willing it down into the abyss where it won't hurt as much.