I will make that man suffer. And I’m going to love every moment. “Don’t worry about the threat, Sparkles. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
RJ looks up from his phone. “It’s definitely not the cops.”
Mattie shakes off her fear, but I can’t tell if she believes me. She ignores RJ’s information, none of it meaning anything to any of us right now. “I was hoping I could stay with you guys, but I guess you’re homeless now. Maybe I can get Mom to pick a nice hotel with good security.” She stands, tugging on her sleeves. “I always thought Father was invincible, you know? But he doesn’t look good, Archie. Not at all. I don’t want to be here, but until Mom’s done yelling at him, I guess this is where I’ll be. Walk me back to the room?”
I leave Clara and RJ in the sitting room, Mattie quiet as she leads me down the hall. The steady beep of a machine grows louder as we approach, and I hate it for what it represents—my father, alive, surrounded by care he’s never been able to give. It’s sick that he gets taken seriously, while Clara and Mattie are left fencing with shadows that make them bleed.
When we enter, Mattie’s mom is leaning over Father, her face furious and covered in tears. I barely catch her words before she notices us at the doorway, something that sounds like ‘you promised, you bastard. How dare you,’ hissed between clenched teeth, before she strides to a corner tocollect herself, Mattie and I lingering awkwardly half in and half out of the room.
“Archie!” My father’s surprise and joy feel like half-dried blood dripping down the back of my neck. Remembered torture and current pain. “My boy. I’m so glad you came. I have some important information to pass on, if your stepmother is ready to head out.”
The implied command has my stepmom spinning away, dragging Mattie from the room, the angry clack of her heels against the linoleum floor echoing until the elevator dings at the end of the hallway. Which leaves me in the room with my father, the last place I want to be tonight. Or ever.
He looks small, weak. I could break his arm in two, his eyes and skin yellow like he’s turning into the snake he was born to be.
The urge to hurt him, to snap him like a twig, dances over my skin, and I can’t help the sick grin that seeps out at the thought. He thinks it’s for him though, his answering smile relieved.
“I know we haven’t left things on the best terms, but in case a liver doesn’t show up soon, I have information you’ll need. Your childish tantrum has reduced my hold, but there are still ways to get back to the top. I’ve hidden the key in my office, tucked between The Prince and Influence.” He grins, like I’m in on the joke.
My non-response makes his grin fade. “You don’t have to agree with my methods, Archie, but know that everything I’ve done is for this family. For its stability, power, and continuation. I did this for you, your brother, and your sister.”
I scoff. “See, you say that, but I don’t believe it. Not for a second. You did this for your own ego. All your kids ever wanted from you was a bit of attention without pain. Maybe for you to throw the ball around the yard, to take us fishing, you know, normal dad stuff. Instead, we got tortured, then taught to torture. Or at least, that’s my story. Who knows what story Trevor would tell.” I turn away, not wanting to see him anymore, but knowing there’s more to say. Things I hate to admit. But I’m not going to lie. Not to myself, and not to him.
“You ignored Mattie because she was born a girl, even though she would have been the best candidate to take over your empire had you taken a moment to get to know her. She’s got your charisma, intelligence, and a surprisingly fluid morality. It’s a pity you didn’t notice.” Moving toward the door, I slow my escape, not wanting to seem weak as my father’s anger fills the space where his body used to be. But his body is practically bound to the bed by wires and tubes. He’s not a threat to me. Not anymore. “I hope you die alone, in pain, knowing your legacy is dead alongside you. I won’t be back.”
Clara waits a few feet away, RJ standing guard beside her. She reaches for my hand as my father’s angry shouts of my name chase us down the hall. But he can’t catch us. And God willing, he never will again.
I’m not a Westerhouse. Not anymore. There’s no reason for me to hover next to his deathbed.
RJ catches my eye over Clara’s head, his nod of approval sinking into me like a healing balm. We’re not where we were. But we’re family. A real one. One that forgives instead ofpunishes. And I look forward to learning what that’s like over the next sixty-plus years.
It’s got to be better than my last twenty-two.
Chapter 81
Clara
I’ve never been in this rental property before, but based on what Trips had said, this one was supposed to be a dump. Instead, the faint smell of sawdust and paint lingers in every room, clean walls and floors lit up by new fixtures and warm bulbs.
“Well, shit,” Trips says under his breath, looking around the spotless interior.
“Jansen says the only thing he’s waiting on are new kitchen appliances,” RJ explains as he sets down his bags of clothes and food we got at a 24-hour pharmacy on the way here from the hospital.
We’re all going to be rocking either flip-flops or leftover Christmas slippers, sweats, and novelty t-shirts, at least until the stores open tomorrow. RJ made sure the food is all shelf-stable. Dry cereal for breakfast might make Walker cry when he sees it, but it’s the best we could do.
Trips and I add our bags before we go exploring. Upstairs, we find two twin mattresses, and Trips and RJ move them into the same room so we can all be together. There’s not much sleeping space, but it’s not like we’re going to sleep, anyway. We’re all on high alert.
I find a bunch of pillows set up like a sitting room, and move those to the bedroom, too, but it’s clear we won’t get to spread out. Not that we’ve spread out much since I got back. I wasn’t kidding about loving my limpets. I need them all around me to feel safe enough to doze off for the handful of hours of sleep I’ve been able to get before the nightmares attack.
For a house put together by Jansen, I’m surprised it’s so bland. Except for some potted plants and a lime tree, it’s a perfectly boring rental property. It’s exactly what Trips would have wanted had he been here to help, but knowing that Jansen did all this work by himself, while healing from a mental health episode and a gunshot wound? I want to hold him. Too bad he and Walker aren’t back yet.
I call first dibs on the shower, my inner thighs sticky and my skin coated in dried sweat.
It had been such a great night. Of course Bryce had to ruin it. That’s all he ever seems to do—ruin things. Me, Mattie, my sense of security and confidence, my home.
My scrubbing turns vicious as I try to exorcise my anger in a safe way, knowing there’s nothing we can do right now, as much as we wish there was. We don’t know where he is. We don’t know what he has planned next. He’s a mosquito we can hear buzzing in the room, but which never gets close enough to squash.
And I want to squash him.
