The opposite of love isn’t hate. The opposite of love is indifference.
It felt good to be indifferent. For years she’d held out hope that her mother would love her. And then when she’d finally accepted that would never happen, she’d still held out hope that her mother would get better, get sober, find happiness and contentment.
Now she knew her continuing to hope for anything for her mother was like watering a dead flower and expecting it to grow. Jane Ennis would never be anything other than what she was. And now that Mia had finally accepted that, there was...peace.
Peace enough that she didn’t rise to the bait when her mother’s upper lip curled. “Well?” Jane demanded. “Is that all you wanted from this visit? To sit across from me with that smug, superior expression on your face?” Her mother had always had the unique ability to make her tone sound hot and cold at the same time.
“No,” Mia replied calmly. “I came to ask you a question.”
Jane darted a quick glance at the camera in the corner. “You must mistake me for an idiot if you think I’ll say anything to incriminate myself.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about anything that’s happened the last couple of weeks,” Mia said, and her mother’s chin jerked back. Mia had never cursed in front of her parents, always thinking it was disrespectful. But Jane no longer deserved her respect.
In fact,she thought,she never did.
“I want to talk about what happened ten years ago,” she added evenly.
Jane tried to purse her lips, but the collagen she’d had injected into them ruined the affect. “I don’t know what there is to say about that that hasn’t already been said.”
“Tell me about the letter.”
Something skittered across her mother’s eyes then. Something that reminded Mia of a bloodsucking insect that only came out at night. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”“Yes, you do,” she countered. “You told Carter that I wrote a letter to Andy, encouraging him to end his life. But we both know that’s not true. Although, talking to Carter made me remember something. A look that passed between you and your housekeeper. What was her name?” Mia snapped her fingers. “Oh, right. Luda Petrov.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jane insisted again, but Mia detected the slightest quiver in her mother’s voice. “There was no look and there was no letter.”
Mia sat back in the chair, crossing her arms. “I googled Luda last night. She’s still in the Chicago area. Still cleaning houses. I bet if I called her up, she’d tell me what I want to know. And I bet she’d be only too happy to—”
“Fine,” Jane spat. “Yes, there was a letter. But I burned it because it was nothing but the ravings of a mad man and I wasembarrassedfor our family, forAndy.”
Hearing her mother talk about her brother so callously replaced all the indifference Mia felt with the urge to reach into her mother’s mouth and rip her spine out through her lying throat. “Andy was mentally ill,” she said through gritted teeth. “He wasn’t crazy. You’d know that if you’d ever bothered to attendanyof the family therapy sessions.”
“Pfft.” Jane tried to wave a hand, only to have the gesture cut short because she was handcuffed.
Maybe it was petty and vindictive, but Mia felt a sense of satisfaction when she heard the metal cuffs rattle against the steel bar bolted to the table.
“Nosaneperson kills themselves,” her mother insisted.
Mia was immune to Jane’s attempts to obfuscate. “Who was the letter to? What did it say?”
“It was to you,” Jane admitted easily, and Mia experienced a pang. OfcourseAndy had written his final words to her. She’d always been his shoulder to cry on, the one to lend an ear or give advice, the one who’d always loved him unconditionally. “But I don’t remember what it said,” Jane was quick to add.
“Sure you do,” Mia argued. “You just said it was filled with the ravings of a—”
“Thedetails, Mia,” Jane snarled. “I don’t remember thedetails.”
Mia dragged a slow breath in through her nose. “Do you supposed Luda would remember the details?”
Hatred.
That’s what Mia saw in her mother’s eyes then.
Pure, unadulterated hatred.
Through a jaw that looked like it wanted to snap shut around each word, her mother gritted, “Youknowwhat it said. You’ve alluded to that fact twice now.”
Confusion had Mia’s brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb and coy with me, Daughter,” Jane hissed. “You forget I’m your mother. I carried you in my belly for nine months. I know you better than anyone.”
