Page 43 of Pretty Broken Things

I put my hands on the back of the sofa in front of me and lean forward. “I don’t give a shit about money.”

“You should. Having money would have made your life a lot easier,” he says in a bored tone.

“Tessa grew up with money and it didn’t make her life easier,” I point out.

I can see her lip quiver, but otherwise she is able to maintain her stoic demeanor. I want to see a reaction from her, but she continues to stand here mute.

Wendell shrugs. “Keep your morals and I’ll keep my money. You’ll still be staying away from my daughter. Go back to the trailer with your father. It’s nothing to me. Your mother will be staying here with me.”

“You promised,” Tessa blurts out.

Now she has a reaction? What did she think, I’d take his deal and play happy families with her from across the hall?

“I guess my feelings were deeper than yours.” I shake my head. I don’t know where I’m going to go, but that hasn’t changed. The plan wasn’t to come here and move back in. I hoped I could get through to Tessa.

“You almost had me convinced that there was more to you than designer brands, fancy cars, and black cards. It looks like my first impression of you was the right one.” I turn and start to walk out of the house.

“Ford, wait,” Tessa shouts after me and chases me down in her heels.

I don’t stop until I’m back in the foyer in sight of the front door. Whatever she has to say to me, this time her father won’t be listening in.

“Please don’t leave like this,” she begs.

I give her an incredulous look. “Why would I stay? I thought we were more than this, but the moment your trust fund is at risk you throw me aside.”

She sniffles, but I find it has less of an effect on me now than it would have even moments ago. “There is so much more going on. I can’t risk telling you about it, but I need you to trust me.”

I scoff. “You had a choice to make, and you chose to keep your money. We could have built a life together. I hope your money keeps you warm at night.”

Tessa bobs her head a few times. “You’re right, I thought we were more, but if this is how you see me, then I didn’t really lose anything.”

She turns her back on me and takes a step, but then stops. “Your mom is upstairs in the master on the other side of the house from mine. I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

She confuses the fuck out of me. One minute I think she’s a weak-willed rich girl, then she shows me that the compassionate person I’ve been falling for is there too. To say I’m confused is putting it mildly. I might be missing pieces of this puzzle, but the overall picture is that she didn’t fight for us.

ChapterTwenty

Ford

Tessa’s wordsremind me of half the reason I came over here, to check on my mom. I give it a minute to make sure Tessa has made it to her room. I think we both need some space before we say or do something there’s no coming back from. Although, I don’t know how we’ll come back from her choosing to throw me away to keep her trust fund.

When I’m sure she’s made it to her room, I climb the stairs and head in the opposite direction to where she said I’d find the master suite. I lift my hand to knock, and the luxurious surroundings waver and transform. Suddenly I’m back in that narrow hallway struggling to get into her locked room.

The memories won’t stop running through my mind in a loop. Fighting off my father, busting through the door, and finding my mother laying in a bloody heap on the floor rotates in a circle. It feels like I’m running because my heart is slamming in my chest and my breathing is fast and shallow. Black dots float in my vision, and with them my knees start to buckle.

Distantly, I hear the snick of the latch pulling out of the strike plate, but it doesn’t register. I didn’t even realize I’d slumped against the door until I find myself falling through the open doorway of the master.

Warm, soft hands stroke my cheeks, rub through my hair, and work to soothe me. It’s comforting and familiar, which makes me blink until my vision clears and I find myself looking at my mother’s face. It’s still bruised, but they’re fading. She has some stitches near her hairline, but the scar will be easy to hide. She’s lucky, her beauty will endure this event.

“Hey, my sweet boy, are you coming back to me?” her soft voice asks me.

Part of me wants to scoff at the old term of endearment she hasn’t used in years, lash out at her for leaving me alone with my father while she was out with Wendell apparently getting divorced and remarried. There’s still the lingering question of how she managed to do something that everyone else had to wait six months to be complete.

I get up off the ground and put some space between us. “I’m glad you’re out of the hospital, and apparently home? Why didn’t you tell me about any of this? I had to have your new husband lay all of this on me. And, of all the men why that prick?”

“Shh,” she shushes looking around to see if anyone came up and heard me. “He’s not that bad.”

“Fucking hell, Mom.Not that badisn’t a ringing endorsement for your new spouse. Why did you marry him?”

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