52. Enslee
I’d listened to Layla as she’d detailed what her father, Stanley Sinclair, and others had done to her.
It was always the ones you trusted the most that always seemed to let you down.
That was a lesson I’d learned pretty early on in life.
The only two people I’d ever been able to depend on had been ripped from me, and literally in the blink of an eye.
My mother had been one of them, although I’d never known her outside of the womb.
I’d always liked to think she would’ve protected me, though.
My life might’ve been on a completely different trajectory had she lived, but she hadn't. What she did do was fight long enough to allow them to get her to the hospital so they could deliver me. She’d given me a fighting chance at life, even though, at times, the life I was given should’ve gone to someone else.
Why was I spared and she wasn't?
My father was the first to ever let me down by taking my mother away from me.
He stole any chance for me to know her… to be loved by her.
But I did get my grandmother. She’d been the most wonderful and amazing woman I’d ever known, even though she’d been grieving the loss of her daughter.
I was a constant reminder of what she’d lost, yet she still had loved me in a way no one else ever had.
I hadn't had a lot growing up, but my grandparents had worked really hard for everything we did have.
We had a small, two-bedroom, two-bath home in Brasstown, Alabama.
There was nothing significant about it. There was nothing of any historical value.
It was just a group of people living together, helping one another, but also gossiping about one another.
I knew that outside of my scandalous entry into this world that they’d looked down on me.
“You’re a very special girl because it’s a miracle you’re even here.”
Some miracle I turned out to be when the children in school bullied me mercilessly.
Sometimes, they’d say things that they had to have heard from somebody else, most likely their parents.
And while no one openly said anything about my grandparents, I’d hear the whispering when they’d walked by.
As much as I loved my grandmother, she’d also been taken from me.
She’d gone to sleep one night, then didn’t wake up the next morning, leaving my grandfather and me to fend for ourselves.
That tragedy led to yet another person who was supposed to protect me letting me down.
As Layla’s words about her own father spilled from her lips, they echoed in my brain.
I used to think I'd never have anything in common with these rich, entitled society snobs, especially with Layla because we were so different from one another. Although we’d come from opposite worlds, we harbored the same shame within us.
We’d endured some of the same things, and from people we’d trusted…
from people who should’ve taken care of us.
She, too, had to give up her future, or at least part of it, to protect her father and the empire he’d been letting slip through his fingers via his own disgusting gambling habit.
It wasn’t something she should’ve had to pay for, but she had, just like I did with my grandfather.
I should’ve been able to put him into a nursing home, then move on with my life by accepting the scholarship to journalism school.
Maybe I would’ve worked for the New York Times or Washington Post.
But no. Instead, I had to give up my own dreams of a future to stay there and take care of the man who’d abused me… the man who’d stolen any innocence within me, further cementing the fact that nobody could be trusted. That’d been a truth I’d carried with me for so many years.
Enter Declan and Brogan.
And not because of our initial meeting, but everything that had happened once I woke up to a lie.
Seeing things clearly now when I’d been unable to back then, my life was still the same.
I’d grown to depend on those men, and even Edna and Jenni.
They’d also lied to me, going along with the men’s deceitful plan.
They'd known I’d never been with either before, but they’d made it sound like I had.
They’d perpetuated the lies, making me feel more at ease only so I could get taken advantage of again by someone I’d trusted.
These men had never forced themselves upon me, but they’d taken away my ability to choose consensually.
But it was different with Declan and Brogan.
Somehow, I could forgive them, but not the others.
I couldn't forgive my father for what he’d done, nor my grandfather, but it was all different with these two.
Maybe their lies hadn't been as bad, or maybe I was suffering from some twisted form of Stockholm syndrome.
I forced all thoughts away as I turned back to Layla, who was now telling Brogan about how she and Nash had eventually formed a liaison.
And while the man had initially worked for the enemy, he’d changed her life around for the better.
For once, Layla finally had somebody who wanted her for her.
Brogan had basically just needed her womb for his heir, and somebody to hang off his arm out in public so he could conceal his love for another.
And Nash loved Layla for herself, and not because of Brogan’s father or any of those other disgusting old men, including her own father.
They’d just wanted to control and use her in their own sick, twisted games.
To think that she’d dealt with that sort of abuse for well over a decade made me sad for her.
It could’ve been me. So fucking easily too.
Had my grandfather been younger, I might’ve still been subjected to everything.
Nash had changed Layla’s life, and although my relationship with Brogan and Declan had begun on a lie, they’d also changed mine too.
Before everything in my world was black and white.
You were either good or evil. And while I gave voices to those who’d felt like they had none, did I ever really listen to them?
I’d repeated their words through video and print, but did I actually believe them?
I didn't think I did. In fact, I knew I didn't, so this entire time I’d perpetuated a fraud as well. That was all changing now because I could see the gray, and not just the dark or the light but everything in between. And whatever this was with Declan and Brogan, it fell into that shade because the truth was that I believed that they cared about me. I wouldn’t ever entertain the thought of them actually being in love with me, but I did believe they cared, nonetheless.
I knew, in their own twisted way, they’d taken care of me.
They’d also brought out a part of me I’d hidden so deep beneath years of trauma.
It was the reason I came when I’d gotten the call.
I had to help them, and I felt vindicated that it hadn’t been a fruitless mission.
The truth, no matter how much uglier it was than I’d first believed, did come out, and it freed them all.
Declan from his guilt… Layla from her secret trauma…
And Brogan from a life behind bars for a crime he hadn’t committed.
And it’d been partially because of me.
There was no satisfaction to be found at all in this moment.
While Declan had always been a perpetual people pleaser, Brogan had been chained by his tortured soul.
As I stared up at him, I could see the same devastation in his eyes that I felt in mine.
As Layla continued to detail everything that had happened with his father, I knew he considered himself responsible, although none of it was his fault.
The weight of the world had been sitting on that man's shoulders for months, from Layla’s disappearance to her possible murder.
I kept my gaze focused on him, especially when I remembered Declan telling me about how Brogan would sometimes dissociate.
Not sure what I’d do if he did so now; I willed him not to crack.
It would be understandable if he did, though.
I didn't know how he was able to still even hold it together. There were tiny tells I could see from the balling up of his fists, the tensing of his jaw, and the slight twitch in his eye when she’d say certain things.
He was holding it all together, but I doubted he’d be able to for much longer.
I just hoped and prayed it wasn't on Layla. While I didn't delude myself into thinking I knew everything about their relationship, especially their childhood, adulthood, and everything in between, I did understand that she’d felt like she had no way out. I’d felt that way before myself, although unlike her, there was no one to miss me when I’d left.
Hell, there'd be no one to miss me now, even had I never regained my memories. No one would’ve cared.
The tears in my eyes continued to get heavier, making it harder to hold them in.
I could sense this conversation was coming to an end, so I turned quickly to dab at my eyes before turning back to watch Layla leave.
After, I was left alone with Brogan, who was leaning dejectedly against a pillar.
His head hung low, and we stood there in silence until I finally cleared my throat.
“How long has it been since you were released?”
He looked up at me, and those normally hollow eyes were now filled with something that concerned and scared me but also sent my pulse racing.
Maybe I would’ve preferred them to remain empty.
No! I shook that thought away immediately.
I'd gone my entire life holding everything inside, and look where it had gotten me.
I didn't wish that same fate on him. Besides, he had so much pain in his head, and I wanted him to release it once and for all.
But who am I? All I am is the foolishly na?ve woman who’d fallen for his lies.