Chapter 14
fourteen
. . .
Secret
Fourteen years ago
desiree
sixteen years old
The second half of high school had been hell, thanks to the explosive family break-up that caused the end of the Carlisle-Hatson era. My family had been forced to sell their businesses, and they were back to square one.
Taven and I had officially been boyfriend and girlfriend for only a couple months.
My mom had come into my room one night, explaining that things were about to change. I was sitting on my bed, books spread out before me while I studied for the next day’s final history exam. She wandered over to the window and placed a lowball of amber liquid onto the windowsill. I watched as she slid open the window, letting in a small breeze that caused my curtains to flutter gracefully. My mother reached into her pocket for her cigarettes, then lit one, her cheeks sucking in with an inhale before blowing the smoke out through the screen.
She never smoked inside.
I studied her face, waiting for her to explain what was going on. I noticed the circles under her eyes and my belly twisted in knots of dread.
She finally spoke, her gaze held firmly out the window. “We’ve decided to cut ties with the Carlisles, Desiree.” I continued to watch the flutter of the curtain, confused, waiting for her to explain what that meant. The smell of the smoke made its way over to me, and I grabbed my pillow to squeeze against my chest, leaning down to inhale the floral scent of fabric softener in attempt to chase the stink away.
My mom plucked the lowball from the windowsill, put it to her lips, and tipped the contents into her mouth. She pulled it away and ashed her cigarette in the glass with an aggressive tap. I noticed the tremble in her hand. “They’ve done some inexcusable things, and because of that, we need to make some changes.”
I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. We had just been over there last weekend. Taven and I had been rounding our way through the bases on his bed, wondering how long we could get away with the closed door we were risking in the house full of people. If this was it—we’d finally have sex.
We didn’t, though. Our time was cut short by the sound of my mother’s voice down the hall, telling me it was time to go. Taven and I had scrambled off each other, worried we were about to get caught. I straightened my clothes and jumped into the hallway just as my mother was approaching, her face red and expression stern. When she saw me, she turned on her heel and told me to follow her, which I could barely hear over the sound of my heart pounding. She led me back down the hall, through the foyer, and to the front door. Mike held the door open for us without making eye contact.
The entire car ride home my mind was spinning on how close Taven and I had gotten, wondering when we could meet again or how we could actually get some time to ourselves. We had gotten pretty swept away that night. I was nervous my parents knew what we were up to, not that they wouldn’t expect it. Still, it wasn’t exactly a confrontation I wanted to have with them, and as the three of us drove away, I was in a panic that they were about to give me a lecture. But they didn’t. In fact, they didn’t say a word the whole ride home.
Apparently, it may not have had anything to do with concerns about me.
I narrowed my eyes and stared at my mother’s profile as she took another drag of her cigarette. “What do you mean, what did the Carlisles do?” I asked, my voice weak.
Her gaze remained focused on my bedroom wall. “It’s none of your concern, but just know that we are through with them.”
“Okay,” I quietly nodded, having no idea what “through with them” meant exactly.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, raising the cigarette and pointing to me. “I mean it. This is serious, Desiree. That means no more Taven.”
I whipped my head up to look at her. She couldn’t be serious. “But?—”
“I mean it,” she snapped. “Nothing to do with him anymore. You two are done.” She closed her eyes again. “You have to be done. I’m sorry.”
I tossed my pillow aside, holding my breath, wanting to scream as I watched her chest rise and fall. I wanted to shout that whatever the hell was happening with Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle had nothing to do with me or Taven. That this was ridiculous, there had to be some misunderstanding. I wished I could be more like Dylan, who was always more vocal, never having a problem standing up to our parents and saying his piece. What would he do right now? He’d probably yell at Mom and tell her to stay out of his life. I’d seen him do it before .
I’d also seen my mom cry in response, and my heart would pinch with sympathy for her despite myself. Trying so hard to tame her son who knew what he wanted and went for it, without hesitation.
My mom took a deep breath, collecting herself. When she opened her eyes again, she picked up her makeshift ashtray and walked toward me. She sat on the edge of my bed and squeezed my knee. I could see turmoil all across her face. She was stressed. Upset. Hurting, maybe. “This is not a joke,” she said. “Things are…complicated, honey. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but that includes Taven.”
“Mom, what are you talking about? What’s complicated, and what’s Taven got to do with it?” Alarm bells were ringing in my head. Had Taven done something that I didn’t know about? Was he in trouble?
“I don’t want to get into details that you don’t need to know.”
I inched my way closer to her, desperate to understand what was happening. “Did Mrs. Carlisle tell you something about him? Because he’s a good guy, Mom. You have to know that.” I was irritated and hurt at the idea that my parents might be viewing Taven with the same disdain his own parents often seemed to.
“It’s not about that, Desiree,” she said, her voice beginning to rise. “You’re not listening to me.”
My irritation was quickly rising to confused anger. “Explain it to me, then! Explain why the hell you think I’m supposed to stop seeing him when he’s done absolutely nothing wrong—you can’t do this!” I was yelling now, something I never did when it came to my parents. I was simultaneously high off my newfound anger and afraid of the repercussions.
“Enough,” she snapped, her eyes wide and tormented. I went to speak up again, but the look on her face stopped me. She looked almost like she was in physical pain, her shoulders hunched over and her face scrunched like it hurt to breathe. It scared me.
Something was definitely wrong, and if I wanted to be able to get through to her, I had a feeling getting in an uncharacteristic screaming match wasn’t going to work in my favor. I swallowed whatever it was I wanted to say.
She softened her voice. “Enough.”
I looked at her in a staredown, willing myself to find some semblance of defiance, prove to myself and her that I was old enough to stand my ground or hear whatever it was that she felt was causing the ridiculous idea of me no longer seeing Taven.
But I was incapable. Inept. Misunderstood and wildly insignificant in a household of personalities far bigger than my own. I’d always be the baby, just like my mom had said the morning after she picked me and Melissa and Taven up from that party, a memory that mortified me.
I didn’t talk back to my parents, ever. I respected them too much, I suppose. Feared having them upset with me. At Melissa’s house, loud and vocal arguments were the norm. Mrs. Belle yelling at her to put her things away before she causes someone to fall and break their neck, did she want to kill everyone in the household? Melissa yelling back, “I said, in a minute! ” lost in whatever it was she was doing, and I’d be scurrying over to the pile on the stairs, running it down to her room, eager to placate.
Or her mom yelling at her to change her shirt, nobody needed to see a young girl’s breasts. Melissa yelling back that her mother shouldn’t have given her an impossibly big rack, then! and I’d stand there in quiet shock and discomfort at the exchange. Then Mrs. Belle would kiss both our cheeks, tell us to have fun and be safe while throwing a sweater in Melissa’s arms, knowing full well she’d never wear it.
It wasn’t like that in my house. I didn’t have a confrontational bone in my body. I was a “yes” girl, quietly obeying and hoping my goodness would be recognized and loved. Feeling hopelessly invisible.
My mom softened her voice. “All you need to know is that you are not to see Taven or speak to him ever again, do you understand?” She looked at me, waiting for my response. “I’m so sorry, honey. I really am. But it’s the way it has to be.”
I simply nodded, wanting to be done with the conversation. My mind was spinning knowing full well not seeing Taven again was never going to happen. It wasn’t even an option—I was in love with him, and he was in love with me. My world was Taven Carlisle. It was that simple. I couldn’t wrap my head around what on earth could have happened that would make him not being in my life something my parents thought was necessary.
So I sat there quietly and played along for the time being, thinking of what I was going to do.
I’d ignore her demand. Whatever stupid blow-up our parents had was beyond my concern. I didn’t care what mishaps were happening between them. It had nothing to do with Taven or me. I couldn’t wait until my mom left my room, knowing I would immediately grab my phone and text him to see what the hell was going on.
But when I did, his response was not what I expected.
T: I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now. Things are really bad, I can’t explain.
And that was the end of that.
As you can imagine, it was a dark time. I texted Taven every hour for days, pleading with him to get back to me. To tell me what was going on. I’d apologize, not even knowing what I was apologizing for. Then I’d spiral and go into anger mode, telling him to fuck off if he couldn’t even have the decency to talk to me. I felt like a discarded piece of trash, convincing myself that the Carlisles had somehow decided my family was beneath them, and Taven was swept up in it too. So many insecurities and feeling like I wasn’t interesting enough, special or good enough for him— they all came flooding back. I sobbed until my nose was sore from tissues and my belly ached in pain, as if my broken heart had dropped to my stomach and was spreading its disease. I couldn’t imagine ever feeling whole again. I needed Taven. I needed him so badly, I loved him so much, and he wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn’t enough for him to defy his parents.
All my efforts to reach him went unanswered. I felt like a desperate fool, and in truth, I was. I’d take my Honda Civic and grab Melissa, forcing her to go drive with me to the Carlisle house, creeping past the gates and hoping I could peer in and see something. I secretly hoped he’d magically appear, hop in the car and we’d drive off and run away together, as silly as it sounded. I’d stalk his social media accounts, starved for glimpses of what he had going on, but there were no posts, no comments or activity of any kind. I’d drag my best friend to the Paisley Club, hanging by the newly opened pool for hours on end, dreaming that he’d show up and he’d throw me fully clothed in the pool, laughing that this had all been some terrible joke. Gotcha! I’d get lost in these fantasies, loving the alternative to my actual reality.
Sometimes my fantasies would go from hopeful to dark, and I’d imagine these elaborate stories of what was happening in Taven’s world. That he was swept up in an arranged marriage. That the Carlisles had him courting some beautiful hotel heiress princess, a new family they were joining forces with. A life that had been planned for him all along, and he was blindly following along with it, falling madly in love and planning the wedding of the century to be had when they both turned eighteen. I was obsessed with torturing myself with dreams of showing up to this fictional wedding, hand in hand with a prince of my own, and Taven would see me walk in. He’d stand at the altar and declare he couldn’t go through with it. He’d apologize to his mom and dad, then come running down the aisle to beg for me, dropping to his knees and saying he couldn’t live without me. In this fantasy, sometimes I’d go along with it and drop to my knees right with him, kissing him and telling him I forgive him. Other times I’d remain standing, dramatically holding my chin up high. The music would swell and I’d grab my new man and say, “Taven Carlisle, I once thought you broke my heart. But the truth is, you freed it.” Then my love and I would turn on our heels and walk away, leaving Taven weeping on the ground, cursing his family and then crying out that he’d never love anyone the way he loved me.