“Yeah, thank you. You’ve been so helpful.” I hang up, my mind filled with confusion.
If my mother didn’t die at the facility, what did happen?
And why did my dad lie to me all these years?
“El! You home?” Jack interrupts my thoughts.
“In here,” I reply from the kitchen.
“What are you up to?” He comes around the corner, pulls me into a half-hug, and then plants a kiss on the crown of my head. I have to suppress a cringe. His overly affectionate actions feel forced, especially since we’ve barely been speaking since our last fight. It’s like he feels guilty about something.
“Researching the facility my mom was at,” I reply.
“Oh.” He pulls away, eyes glancing to my screen and then across the kitchen. “Why?”
“Dad never shared much about what happened, and I’ve always wondered. I mean, how does someone die in a facility that’s meant to keep them safe from themselves and other people? Seems odd.”
“Does it?” He takes a glass down from the cupboard and fills it with filtered water from the fridge.
“You don’t think so?” I say, as he drinks the entire glass and then sets it in the sink.
He shrugs. “Not really.” His eyes cut across the room to me. “Find anything interesting?”
“Not yet.” I give him a sour smile. “Busy night?”
“Mhmm,” he says, averting his eyes. “Drinks with a client went late.”
He’s lying. I clear my throat, then say, “They always do.”
He arches one eyebrow but doesn’t reply.
“Thought you were off to Jersey last night?” I smile sweetly at my lying husband as I stand, pushing in the barstool at the kitchen island and then tucking my laptop under my arm.
“Client cancelled,” comes his dry reply.
“Hm. Well, I’m off to bed.” I can’t even look him in the eye.
“I’ll be there soon.” He grunts softly.
“Oh, you don’t mind sleeping in the guest bedroom again, do you? I really liked having the bed to myself last night—I think I sleep better. It’s nice to spread out. Plus, you snore.” Jack doesn’t snore. He’s as still and as quiet as a corpse when he sleeps.
“Sure, if you think that’s best.”
“Thanks.” I smile, letting a thousand words unspoken hang between us. “Good night.”
“Sleep tight,” I hear him murmur at my back.
Thanks, asshole,is all I think as I walk away.
Twenty-Four
Ellie
“Here’s your chamomile tea, dear.” The barista sets a teacup and pot down at the table. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
I smile up at her and nod. “Thanks.”
I take my first sip of tea, enjoying the warmth in my system just as an older woman walks up with a manila folder and a smile. “Ellie?”
