Thank goodness for Trent, who taught me the self-control needed for patience because had he not, I’d already have rushed the front porch. Instead, I watch as they go inside, and I ponder my next move.
And there will be a next move because one thing is for certain—it’s time Carla Sinclair pays for her sins.
A couple of hours later, the darling stepdaughter walks toward her car. There’s no sign of Carla anywhere. I refuse to think of her as my mother now that I know she’s been alive all this time. She’s simply Carla to me now.
I don’t know what possesses me to follow who I presume is Hattie, but five minutes after she leaves Carla’s, she pulls into a church parking lot.
Who the fuck spends their Friday night at church? Sunday mornings I get. You want to believe in a higher power so you can feel better about the fucked-up shit you do? By all means, go for it. But a Friday night? This woman must be innocence and purity personified. Either that or an idiot.
I scowl as I watch her leave the car and make her way into the church.
Within a minute, I pull away. She can spend her night here, but I’m not going to spend my entire Friday night in a goddamn church parking lot. Instead, I go find a hotel to check into and raid the minibar and stew over what I want to do, if anything.
I don’t bother to leave my room until Sunday morning, spending Friday night and all day Saturday tying one on and attempting to push away the memories of the past that seem determined to haunt me since I started this stupid quest.
I’ve always been willing to drink, but not generally to excess—likely a by-product of growing up with an addict for a mother. But I was desperate to get rid of the oily feeling slinking through my veins. It’s like I’m right back there as a little boy who just wants his mom to love him.
My head is pounding as I pull into the church parking lot, knowing, based on Mr. Smith’s report, that Carla, her husband, and Hattie will be in attendance.
I’m still not sure whether I want to confront Carla or not.
I chuckle, thinking that causing a scene in the middle of a church service might be the most punishing way to get back at her. To ruin the perfect life she’s made for herself. Expose her for what she is and reveal to all the other parishioners exactly the kind of woman who has been hiding in their midst.
But my thirst for revenge demands more.
Church has already begun, and the parking lot is nearly full. No one is leaving their cars or exiting the building. Curious to see if Carla can indeed really be inside a church and not burst into flames, I exit the rental vehicle and head inside.
The door to the sanctuary is open to the foyer, so I can hear the minister speaking as I head in. Once I’m inside, I stop at the back and look around the pews, stopping on Carla and her family. The back few pews are empty, so I slide into one that affords me the opportunity to watch them.
Of course, nothing much happens during the service, but once they’re done, I watch as the three of them stand and speak with the people around them. Even from back here, it’s clear from Carla and her husband’s body language that Hattie is their pride and joy. Whatever they’re talking to the people about, it must be about Hattie with the way they gesture to her as if she’s a crown jewel with their chests puffed out.
I clench my hands in my lap when Carla wraps an arm around Hattie’s shoulders and squeezes her into her side.
Then an idea comes to mind.
An idea of how I can get back at my mother for what she did.
Little, sweet Hattie might just need a little corrupting.
It’s almost too brilliant. I’m surprised the idea didn’t come to me sooner. Ruin Hattie and then reveal to Carla that I’m the one who corrupted her innocent stepdaughter. And she’ll only have herself to blame—if she hadn’t raised me the way she did and decided not to find me once she was sober, I wouldn’t have the capacity to ruin an innocent young woman. But our predicament is Carla’s fault, and it’s time she knows what she did.
With a smile, I rise up from the pew and walk toward the exit.
I’ll be back, and by then, I’ll be ready and armed to do some damage.
4
HATTIE
The bell rings above me as I step through the door. The coffee shop is only half full, typical for a Tuesday evening after working hours. The odd time I’ve been here during the day, this place is bustling.
I come here after work about once a week. Not because I’m meeting a date or anything, but because I don’t want to go home and sit alone in my apartment. Sure, I may only curl up with a book on the couch in the lounge area at the back, but I’m still out in the world. Even if I’m out in the world alone.
I carry my hot chocolate to the lounge area in the back of the café. It’s my favorite place, complete with an electric fireplace, a pair of couches, and a couple of chairs. It’s cozy even though summer is almost here.
Once I’m settled, I open my book, losing myself in the world between the pages. I’m unsure how much time passes before I hear, “Evening.”
The deep male voice draws my attention, and I look up to a handsome man seated in one of the chairs opposite me.
