Page 15 of Unspoken Tides

“What kind of incident?”

“We took her to the hospital, and she seems stable,” Quinn said. “We were able to hide everything from the press.”

“What kind of incident?” Hilary demanded, her tone sharp.

Quinn heaved a sigh. “I think it’s about time we talk about taking her to another rehab facility. Lotus Vine didn’t cut it last time. Athens Peak was a disaster. But I’ve been looking at the website for Greenaway Valley, and I think it could do the trick.”

Hilary closed her eyes. Now, she understood that her mother had probably overdosed again. Alcohol. Drugs. Whatever she’d gotten her hands on. She’d tried to escape herself, her wild thoughts, her pain. And someone had discovered her and made sure she couldn’t run away that easily. Probably Quinn or another housemaid or an assistant.

It was not the first time this had happened. The first time was after Larry left Isabella for another woman, just a few weeks after Isabella had won the Oscar. Hilary had found her face down on the carpet with a bluish pallor. She’d thought she was dead. In hindsight, that might have been a good thing to discuss with the therapist. The image still haunted Hilary’s dreams.

“She’s home now. Resting,” Quinn said. “I’d like to check her into a facility as early as tomorrow. We have to be wary of the tabloids and do it safely. But in the meantime, I really think you should come over. I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

Tears filled Hilary’s eyes. Her hand in a fist, she smashed it against her thigh. How many times had she reached out to her mother while in Nantucket? How often had she tried to repair their relationship?

“Hilary? Are you there?” Quinn asked.

Hilary’s voice was weak. “I’ll be there soon.”

Hilary hung up and closed her eyes. In a moment, Rodrick’s arms were around her, keeping her upright, even as her legs were jelly. “What happened?” Rodrick breathed. “Tell me.”

“She overdosed,” Hilary said, weeping into his shirt. “Quinn wants to check her into a facility. And she wants me to come over.”

Rodrick stiffened. Slowly, he moved away from her and placed his hands on her cheeks, cradling her face. For a long time, they stood like that, gazing at one another. Hilary felt on the brink of a scream.

“Honey, don’t you see?” Rodrick said finally. “She’s doing this to get a rise out of you and get your attention.”

Hilary took a staggered breath. “She overdosed, Rodrick.” But as soon as she said it, she realized Quinn hadn’t told her that. All he’d said was that there had been an incident. Hilary didn’t know the details.

Was it possible that Quinn was making it up?

“Baby, don’t do this to yourself,” Rodrick said softly. “Pay attention to the signs. Remember what she’s capable of.”

Hilary sniffed and fell to the edge of the bed. Rodrick was still talking, recounting all the times since he’d met her that Isabella had run circles around Hilary, making a mockery of how much she loved her. “Remember that time in Rome? You had a panic attack because you thought she’d died in her hotel room. But she wasn’t answering the phone on purpose, Hilary! Her boyfriend confirmed it.”

Hilary’s throat was so tight that she struggled to breathe. Rodrick disappeared into their bathroom and filled a glass with warm water, which she coughed down. The Chinese, pizza, and Mexican smorgasbord across the bed looked heinous now—

like someone had already eaten it and thrown it back up again. Hilary stopped breathing through her nose for fear she would throw up.

Rodrick was on his knees in front of her with both of her hands in his. He was pleading with her to stay and not to give Isabella so much of her heart and mind.

“The therapist told you to cut ties with her,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s finally time? We have another movie coming up. We have so much to do. Tonight was supposed to be our night. And she sensed that. She wanted to ruin it.”

Hilary took a staggered breath. More tears spilled from her eyes and coated her tongue with salt. Rodrick looked so handsome like this, begging her to think of herself and her health before her mother’s. He kissed her hand from the wrist to the tip of her fourth finger.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he said after a few minutes of dead quiet. “But she’s a narcissist, Hilary. You can’t let her be in charge anymore. You have to get away.”

Chapter Six

Present Day

When Hilary returned home after her first day of filming, she was surprised to find Stella parked in the driveway. Stella leaned against the side of her car, wearing a stylish pair of sunglasses and a sundress, watching as Hilary snuck up the winding driveway to the gate. Isabella had had the gate installed when she’d purchased the place in preparation for teeming paparazzi. It had been a long time since the gate was necessary. Nobody cared about Isabella Helin’s fifty-five-year-old daughter.

What was Stella doing here?

“Hey, stranger,” Stella said as Hilary lowered her car window.

“Hey!” Hilary’s voice wavered. “Have you been waiting long?”

---