“How much money are we getting?” she asked, on my heels as I strode down the hall to my room.
She hadn’t stated it outright before I left for Middlebury, but I suspected she hadn’t given me a hard time about leaving my jobs because she anticipated Gordon’s money. All of her income came from me, aside from some government assistance, something she’d never admit. She’d been ashamed to receive it when I was young too. I never understood why. There was no shame in accessing help.
I spun toward her. “Youarenot getting any money. Gordon namedmein his will, not you.”
“Iearnedthat money.” Her shrill tone nearly had me covering my ears. I’d avoided confrontations with my mom all my life because it was easier to give in than argue. “You think he evergaveus anything?”
Was she fucking serious?
But Kathy’s petulant expression said it all. It was easy to believe your own lies if you repeated them endlessly.
Concentrating on keeping my voice even, I replied, “He gave us plenty when he thought Molly was his daughter, before you moved her across the country, after you tired of him. You ruined his marriage, and then you ripped away his daughter.”
My mother let out a belabored sigh. “You have no idea what he was like, Brenna.”
I tilted my head, motioning to myself. “Enlighten me.”
“It’s too difficult to speak about.”
“Well, when you gather the strength,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “let me know. In the meantime, I’ll keep the money. Gordon would roll over in his grave if I shared a cent with you.”
My mother started her whole woe-is-me spiel, but I blocked her out. One of the survival mechanisms I’d mastered while living with Kathy Quinn.
But then it dawned on me. I had one hand left to play. I wouldn’t need to take Molly from her if she freely signed over her parental rights. I’d never considered simply asking, because most mothers wouldn’t sign away their daughters, not unless they couldn’t care for them or didn’t love them.
Kathy Quinn couldn’t be the kind of mother Molly deserved, but Kathy didn’t recognize that. She loved Molly—and me—in her own toxic way. And now that her cheating married boyfriend was back with his wife, Molly was all she had. If there wasn’t another metaphorical punching bag around, who would she spew her ugliness to—herself?
But I had something she wanted. I turned my back, retreating to my bed, thinking about how to broach the subject.
“Are you evenlisteningto me, Brenna Rae Quinn?”
“Yeah, of course.” I chewed my lip. Making this offer could go very, very wrong. But on the off chance it went right, I had to take it. “I was thinking maybe we can come to an arrangement.”
Her furrowed eyebrows smoothed at the prospect that her little rant worked. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll give you the money from the sale of the house…” I paused. “If you make me Molly’s guardian.”
Kathy reared back like she’d been slapped. I thought she’d appreciate the opportunity to reclaim her life, having heard her complain about how Molly and I prevented her from doing anything she wanted.
“Howdareyou.” Her quiet fury unnerved me.
I jumped when she slammed the door so hard a picture fell off my nightstand, shattering the glass.
A metaphor, if there ever was one, for my relationship with my mother.
47
NATHAN
Now
“So this is thefamous Middlebury?” Leo mused, his gaze out the window as I drove to my orthopedic appointment.
Not having to face this alone brought me massive comfort.
While I got dressed, my stomach threatened to upend my dinner from last night. Despite extensive advancements in surgeries, repairing a torn labrum took down about half the pitchers who had it. They never recovered to their preinjury form, even with the best surgeons. That statistic alone had me trying every strategy known to man, because the idea of losing baseball—my first love, my only talent—terrified me.
“Everything you imagined?”
