Chapter 18 Gabriel
Gabriel
Ilocate Henry on the lanai of our guest bungalow. “What the fuck did you say to my wife?”
Henry glances up from the laptop perched on the side table next to his wicker armchair. “Why do you ask?”
“She’s sleeping in our closet,” I hiss.
Henry lowers his cup of tea to the table and closes the computer. “How odd. I assume you have some kind of chaise or bed in there?”
“There’s a mattress for—That’s not the point. It’s the only place dark and quiet enough for her because she has a migraine from going over her old social media accounts and reading chemistry books,” I snap.
Henry frowns. “I brought Dr. Frankhouser and the elder Dr. Granthy with me. Frankhouser practices hypnotherapy. There’s no need for her to hurt herself in pursuit of her past.”
“You don’t have to call him ‘the elder.’ Granthy is Granthy. Josh is Josh,” I say sourly.
“I was under the impression you were no longer on a first-name basis with Joshua.”
My brother’s focus on the pedantic usually doesn’t bother me, but right now it feels like an attempt at misdirection.
“I’m sure as hell not referring to him as Granthy the Younger.
Granthy—the only one you brought with you—examined my wife before she hid in the closet.
He says you pushed her too hard, and we’re lucky she didn’t go catatonic again.
So I’m asking before I beat it out of you. What did you say to her?”
He stands. “First, I convinced her not to hare off into the wild blue yonder barefoot. You’re welcome. Then I reassured her that you weren’t, in fact, in love with my wife.”
My stomach sinks. “She thought what?”
“Sydney saw you put your lips on Franki and thought Ian was yours.”
“My kissing Franki on the forehead has nothing to do with this,” I say.
“I mentioned to her that it would be helpful if she’d take her meds, talk to the psychiatrist, and stop actively suppressing her memories since getting them back could protect innocent children’s lives.”
“You fucking asshole. Pushing her could cause a mental break she never recovers from.”
Henry scoffs. “That’s exactly why she needs to see a therapist. I didn’t push her. I encouraged her to be proactive about her own recovery.”
“You knew the minute you mentioned kids that Sydney would do anything she could to help. We already increased security, and there’s no reason to believe they’re in danger. You used her empathy against her.”
Henry’s eyes go icy. “Not against her. For her. I’m the only person treating Sydney like she isn’t broken.
She deserves the facts so she can make informed choices.
The drugs and her captivity have left her paranoid, depressed, and unable to regulate her emotions.
She’s refusing the meds and therapy that would help.
She doesn’t know how you two met, what she was doing in Dad’s lab, or the real reason she married you. Of course, nothing makes sense to her.”
I take a deep breath. “I drop so many hints it isn’t funny.
If she isn’t picking up on them, then she doesn’t want to know.
There’s a copy of our prenup on her nightstand.
She won’t touch it. One Google search of my name, Henry.
That’s all it would take to start the avalanche of questions.
But she hasn’t done it.” Squeezing the back of my neck, I pace to work out my frustration.
“I’ll never lie to her, but I won’t force her to deal with things she isn’t ready for.
If this were Franki, you wouldn’t do a damn thing differently. ”
“Franki wouldn’t act against her own best interests,” he says.
“If she woke up one day after being tortured and drugged, so terrified of you that she couldn’t even eat, you’d treat her like glass.”
He swallows hard. “Yes.”
I shake my head. “And if we’re using common sense, who’s to say she doesn’t immediately take off or contact the feds and put us all, including herself, in danger? Think about the first time she met me. Now imagine that, but without her loyalty to Bronwyn to slow her roll.”
Henry’s flat expression turns frustrated. “This is one of those muddy gray areas in which I’m meant to practice flexibility.”
“I don’t know. I’m winging it and hoping for the best, but if you can’t support my decisions, then leave. I don’t have one piece left inside me to run interference on my own brother.”
He drops back into the chair. Finally, he says, “We came to lighten your load, not add to it. I apologize.”
“When she can finally leave the fucking closet, I expect you to apologize to her.”
He nods.
Adrenaline seeping away, I lower myself to a cushioned rattan chair, sprawl back, rub the tattoo on my chest through my shirt, and watch the leaf-shaped ceiling fan spin in lazy circles. “I haven’t been this close to the edge in years.”
“What she went through has to have brought back memories. It did for me, and I’m not here with her every moment.”
“You holding up?” I ask.
“I’ve had some nightmares I talked about with Franki. Who are you leaning on?”
“I’m focused on Sydney, not me.” My chest and throat ache.
“All those years that I spent telling myself to leave that night in the past, and Markov was plotting for just as long. Until I saw his face when we found Sydney, I was convinced Nick was like us. Another innocent kid mixed up in adult games. He’d disappeared.
Changed his name. I thought, ‘Good for him.’ I hoped he’d found a good life.
Meanwhile, he was blaming us for fighting back, instead of facing the fact that none of it would have happened if he hadn’t been an evil little shit in the first place. ”
“People jump through all sorts of mental hoops to avoid accountability.”
That’s the truth.
After a moment, Henry leans forward. “You said ‘if it were Franki,’ so I’ll do the same thing. If our roles were reversed, what would you tell me?”
“It wouldn’t be the same.”
“Try.”
It isn’t easy to say. “I’d tell you to stop blaming yourself for what happened to her.”
“That’s a start.”
It’s also impossible. “I’d tell you to call your counselor and use your resources so you’re not holding on to sobriety alone.”
He nods. “And?”
“I’d tell you to let me take some of the weight off your shoulders,” I admit.
“Will you?”
“I’ll call. And I’ll try the other two.”
He studies me. “You’re not alone. Day or night.”
Without her, it sure as hell feels like it. “Thanks.”
“Granthy wants her to stay here, rolled in bubble wrap. But sooner or later, she’ll come across something she isn’t ready to hear. Getting proactive in her own recovery will help her brace for impact. You love each other. If she doesn’t remember that first, she’ll remember it eventually.”
“You don’t know what she’ll remember, Henry. No one does.”