Chapter 21 #2
“I didn’t do anything!” Haven cries, breaking.
Something in my stomach twists again. I shove it down.
“Auguste! Do something about this right now.”
My fingers tighten around the edge of the door frame. I can picture Haven’s face right now. Red. Furious. Eyes bright with tears that she refuses to let fall.
“She’s lying,” Haven says again, quieter this time. “Dad, I don’t smoke, you know that. You have to believe me.”
“She’s grounded,” my mother says immediately before Auguste can respond. “Two weeks. No phone. No friends. No Patrick coming over either. I’m done tolerating this behavior.”
Silence hangs in the air, then Auguste sighs. It’s a long, tired sound.
“Haven. Where did the vape come from if it’s not yours?”
“You don’t believe me,” she asks, her voice sounding so lost.
“I didn’t say that, just answer the question.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Haven.”
“Whatever. You want me to be the bad guy…fine. I’ll take the two weeks, but not because I deserve it. Because it’s obvious you’d rather believe her than get into another argument and no matter what I say, she is never going to believe me.”
Her voice is small now. Defeated. My mother seems to have won this round.
I lean against the wall outside the office door for a minute and just stare.
There is a family portrait that we took on our first Christmas here, hanging directly across from me.
Haven is smiling from ear to ear. How can she look so happy? How dare her look happy.
A grin spreads slowly across my face, but I wipe it away. She’s not smiling now. I march away satisfied with myself.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Having Haven around and reading her diary is bringing up all these old memories that I want to forget.
“Dr. Stevens seems nice,” Mother says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Sure, I guess.”
“Did you talk about your issues,” Mom asks. She just can’t help herself. I look around the car, and all eyes are on me.
“What issues are you referring to?”
“You know what I’m talking about?”
“Mom. I’ve told you multiple times that I did not take anything. And I know that Dr. Stevens didn’t tell you that I was, so why are you bringing this up again?”
She presses her lips together and doesn’t say anything. She wants to, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. Fuck. Fine if she wants to have this out in front of everyone in here? Then we will.
“Is that what you really think? That I was doing drugs and overdosed?” I lock eyes with the woman who gave birth to me, but I can’t find a single maternal instinct in her.
“Well…it is obvious. Is it not? It’s just us in here, it’s time to come clean.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“You mean like how you confessed to Dad about your affair with Auguste right before he stormed out, got hit by a drunk driver, and died?”
The air is suddenly sucked out of the vehicle. No one moves as I glare at my mother. Words that I’ve never said aloud before have just been dropped like a grenade.
My guys go still. Declan stiffens. At least Mr. Gaillard has the decency to look ashamed.
My mother’s fingers grip her purse.
“That’s not fair,” she breaths out. For the first time in a long time, she doesn’t look so sure of herself.
I let her see the full weight of my anger and hurt.
I let her see how a large part of me hates and blames her and Mr. Gaillard for what happened to my father.
My dad may not have made millions, but he was a good father, and he loved my mother.
She cast him aside the moment she saw an opportunity to move up in the world.
“Neither is being blamed for his death when it wasn’t my burden to carry. How many times have you told me that the fight you two had before he left that night was about my music career and moving to California? Huh? How many?”
Her face turns red, and she shifts nervously.
“You know?”
“Yes. I know. All this time, I let you believe that I wasn’t home, that I’d stayed the night at Mark’s house.
I heard the fight that destroyed our family.
I heard Dad cry as you ripped his heart out.
And my heart broke when the door slammed, and he raced out of the driveway.
You put my father’s death on me because you’re a coward so don’t you dare talk to me about truth or coming clean. ”
She blinks, and her armor cracks for the first time.
“I was scared, and I…” She looks at Auguste. “I didn’t want to sully Auguste’s reputation. His wife was on death’s door, and I knew that his name would be dragged through the mud. You’ve seen what those piranhas can be like.”
“So, you let your twelve-year-old son believe that he was the reason for his father’s death? Wow, that is so much better. Thanks for the trauma and scars mom,” I snarl.
And just like that, the cracks are smoothed over as her expression changes. Once more, she is back to being cool and composed.
“You have such a flair for dramatics, Cyrus.”