Not sure I can either. This is all sounding very"Flowers in the Attic”like, and a little puke fills my mouth. I don’t ask the question that’s burning inside me even though I am kind of intrigued in a grossed-out way. Pamela and James have a fucked-up relationship, and it’s better I don’t know the specifics. It’s not like I need more reasons to despise the woman who gave me life.
“Pamela flew into a rage when she discovered Lucille with another man and killed her.” I’m reminded of how I attacked Cleo upstairs, and though I don’t regret it—that woman was due a beating and some—I hate the thought I got my fiery side from my mother. It’s not a side of her I have seen often, but from what’s been said lately, she has that streak in her.
I hate I have two psychos for parents. What does that say about me and what I could be capable of?
“That’s why you took responsibility in the boardroom?” I say, slotting it all into place.
James nods. “Your mother must be protected at all costs, Ashley.”
“I have my issues with Pamela, but I would never hand her over to be punished or killed.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Hurry it along,” Eric says, glancing at the device curled around his palm.
“I know Pamela was there in the crypt. I saw what Carter did to her.” He grinds down on his teeth and grips the edge of the bed. At least I know where my mother was lying low. Did she tell him everything? Did he come here today already knowing how it was going to play out? If that was the case, and he’s clearly been working with Stewart, why didn’t they stop this? Why not come to us and get us to side with them over Carter? It makes no sense, and my head is about to explode trying to decipher all the lies and betrayals.
“He still wants her,” James says. “He will go after Richard next and try to take him out so he can have her.” James takes my arm. “Your mother won’t let that happen, Ashley. Do you understand what I’m saying? She will kill herself before she lets that happen.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to promise me you’ll look after your mother. That you’ll work with Eric to stop him. I’m not going to make it out of this alive, so I can’t be here to protect her.”
“You’re really prepared to die for her?”
He stares at me like I’ve got ten heads. “I have made my peace with it. Your mother is my sole reason for existing, and I have always been prepared to die for her. She would do the same for me.”
Gross, and honestly? I’m not so sure she would, but I keep that thought to myself.
“My dying wish is that you keep her safe. Can you do that for me?”
ChapterForty-Four
Ashley
“Ineed a drink or ten,” I say when we walk through the front door of our townhome a couple of hours later. “My head’s about to burst.” I filled the others in on my little tête–à–tête with my uncle. The knowledge Jase’s dad is more clued in than he has led us to believe seriously pissed Jase and Bree off. At least it appears he’s on our side. I tried to draw him out in the elevator after we left my uncle’s cell, but he warned me of the cameras and said we would discuss it at dinner tomorrow. Ares is grumpier than usual, for obvious reasons, and Chad is quiet. Seeing that bitch again must have been hard.
We could all use a drink or ten.
“That was some heavy-duty shit,” Bree agrees, heading into the living room and making a beeline for the liquor cabinet.
“I’m out,” Ares says, heading toward the stairs.
“Like fuck you are.” Jase takes the words right out of my mouth. “Get your selfish grumpy ass in the living room right fucking now.”
“Screw you, jock. I don’t take orders from anyone.”
“Do you love me, Ares?” I ask, putting him on the spot. Planting my hands on my hips, I drill a look into the back of his head until he turns around.
He looks uncomfortable as fuck, but I don’t give a shit. “You know I do,” he admits after a few tense beats.
“Then get your ass inside. We have shit to resolve, and it can’t wait. Unless you’ve decided you don’t want a relationship with me.” I gesture toward the stairs, moving my fingers in a stepping motion. “In that case, carry on.”
Ares stares me down for a few intense seconds before expelling air from his mouth. Without saying a word, he moves into the living room.
Sitting beside Chad on the couch, I accept a vodka cranberry from Bree. Jase plonks his butt on one of the recliner chairs while Ares takes the other. When Bree has finished distributing drinks, she sits cross-legged on the floor, resting her back against the couch. Technically, she’s not part of this relationship, and maybe she shouldn’t be here for this conversation. But she’s involved. She lives with us, and she’s now married to Ares. It doesn’t feel right to exclude her unless she chooses not to stay. That’s her call.
Clasping my hands on my lap, I channel inner calm. I am determined to have this conversation in a civilized manner. “What you did last night, Ares, was supremely selfish, and we are angry with you.”
