“I’ll eat when I come back. I’m sorry,” she replied, and took off down the hall.
She had been through too much for it all to be swept under the rug, for Kim to skate away scot-free. Nothing about their circumstances sat well with her. She would dig to the bottom of what was going on one way or the other. Lana slammed the door behind her, leaving Kayden alone in the darkened living room.
Kayden let out a frustrated sigh, the sound harsh in the empty room. He flipped the switch, and the bright, unforgiving overhead lights instantly killed the intimate, flickering glow of the candles. The romantic dinner, now just an elaborate, cold mockery on the table, seemed to stare back at him.
He moved with a mechanical, heavy resignation. He took the now-lukewarm food off the table, scraping untouched portions into containers and shoving the serving dishes into the fridge. He blew out the candles one by one, each puff of smoke a tiny, final death to the evening he’d planned.
HeknewLana was right. Deep down, beneath his own exhaustion and denial, he knew. That was the worst part. The truth of her accusation—that his mother was still manipulating them, that thisneverended—nagged at the pit of his stomach like a raw ulcer.
His idea of not letting Kim win, of "living their best life" and proving she couldn't wedge in between them... it felt hollow now. Passive. Maybe his way wasn’t radical enough for Lana. Perhaps it was just cowardice, thinly disguised as sanity, but it was all he felt hecoulddo within the law.
He stood at the patio doors of the lanai, his good hand pressed against the cool glass, and stared out into the darkness at the silhouette of the birdbath. Although it was painful, almost sickening to admit, what scared him most wasn't Kim. What truly terrified him was uncovering more betrayal at the hands of his own mother.
He didn’twantto know why she’d helped Kim. He didn't want to know what new, awful justification she'd created in her mind. Whatever the reason, it would only cement her as this... thismonster... and he was so, so tired of thinking of her that way. He was tired of mourning the mother he thought he had, the one who was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.
He just wanted a clean slate, all around. But every time he thought he could start to trust her, every time he let a small piece of his guard down, she did something else to betray that trust. He just didn’t have the stomach for any of it at the moment. He didn't have the strength for another fight.
New York.The thought was a small, desperate lifeline. They would all be on their way to see the specialist about his arm tomorrow. Maybe the trip would ease these fears, put some physical distance between them and the toxicity of Hamby. But that hope died instantly, choked by reality. How could theyescape it when Lana was, at this very second, on her way to tear his mother a new one?
The confrontation would just set off another bomb, and they'd be right back in the blast radius. Kayden walked back over to the couch and sank into the cushions. He sat watching the lights from the fireplace dance, casting restless shadows across the room. His arm ached, a dull, familiar throb, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. His gaze landed on the bottle of prescription pain meds on the coffee table. He reached for them. He didn't just welcome the numbing effects; hecravedthem. He popped one from the already-opened bottle, swallowing it dry, wanting to numb not just his arm, butallof it.
Tomorrow would be better,he told himself, a familiar, desperate lie. He leaned his head back against the cushions, closed his eyes, and let the encroaching drowsiness take him away.
7
blood on the family tree
Lana pulled into the Spence Hotel in Kayden’s white Chevrolet Camaro and jumped out of the low-sitting car. The air was cool and welcoming, a definite sign that spring was on the horizon. When she passed Aunt Mae’s a few moments ago, she felt guilty having not visited the diner in a while and made a mental note to stop by after they returned from New York.
Lana waltzed into the lobby of the hotel for the second time that evening and made her way to the ancient elevator doors. She was certain Maureen would be in her room since she didn’t spot her eating dinner in the restaurant. If she wasn’t there either, Lana planned to wait until she showed up.
She pressed the “UP” button on the elevator and waited for it to chime, but couldn’t ignore the two receptionists behind the counter. They were giving her pitying stares and whispering amongst themselves. It was tiring to be looked at that way everywhere she went, or, worse, blamed for causing the drama, as one newspaper article suggested.
Lana was at her wits ‘ end dealing with it and wouldn’t let them treat her like their charity case. A middle-aged couple walked out of the restaurant across from her, stopped, pulled outa cellphone, and started recording. Lana’s face grew hot, her fists balled, livid at their audacity.
“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” she yelled at them quite loudly.
People in the restaurant turned from their meals, staring through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, eyes wide. The man pushed the phone down from his companion’s hand, and they walked out of the hotel. Instantly, Lana felt ashamed of her reaction and was all too happy when the elevator door finally chimed.
Holding her breath, she scurried in and waited for the doors to close, her eyes planted on the floor, the ugly brown carpeting her only company. The doors pushed together slowly, and the box started to lift, allowing her to let out the long-held breath. She was losing her patience a lot lately and was tired of feeling bad for it.Those people were rude,she reasoned in her head.
Her emotions were so raw that she didn’t have a handle on them much lately, and being made to feel like a victim was her limit. She’d pitied herself enough for the entire town and was done playing into the shitty cards she’d been dealt. It was time for a new deck. Once the elevator opened, she stepped out into the hallway and headed for Maureen’s room.
It was the same one she had months before, a personal request she made to Mr. Spence. Not that she needed to. Ever sincethe incident, the town has had more visitors every day. Mostly gossip blogs and media looking for anything to keep the drama wheel rolling. When Lana got to the door, she knocked and waited as she heard the shuffle of feet. The walls were paper-thin, and another reason a renovation was desperately needed.
“Who is it?” Heathcliff asked through the door.
“It’s Lana, Heath,” she yelled into the door, her anxiety rising by the minute.
Slowly, the door creaked open, and he stood back. He was dressed for bed, and beyond him, Lana could see a surprised Maureen putting her robe on.
“How are you?” he asked, standing to the side so she could walk in.
“I’m OK,” Lana replied, stepping in.
It smelled of vanilla-scented candles, and she didn’t want to think about what may have happened right before she came knocking. Maureen approached her, forehead wrinkled with worry.
“What’s the matter? Is it Kayden?” she asked.
