Page 59 of Taking The Virgin

Chapter21

“Owen,”I say in disbelief. “You can’t possibly meanthat.”

His words are serrated. “Did they specifically tell you why I’m so goddamned angry with them and why I bothered to come out here today?”

“No, but we talked about—”

“Juliet, this morning I got a call from my brother Liam, whom I never speak to except for the occasional emergency with my parents. He routinely talks to the neighbors, and he gets just as frustrated with my parents as I do. He has the joy of hearing the neighborhood gossip because he’s lives closer by than me, whereas I got the fuck out all together.”

I don’t tell Owen that his parents have already informed me about his relationship with his siblings, how none of them like to see one another because of the hell in that house.

Owen continues, his tone getting more ragged with every sentence. “Today Liam informed me that he found out this house is about to be condemned by the city. Oh, and the best part? My parents have just a couple more days to clean this whole damned thing out or they’ll be kicked out, evicted, and essentially homeless.”

I cross my arms over my chest, holding myself.

He fists a hand as he raises it, almost as if he wants to beat down whatever it is that keeps his parents from understanding how serious the situation is. Then he lowers hisfist.

“Do you know the definition of insanity? It’s doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Believe me, I’ve tried and tried to help them over the years, and things never change. You heard them—they don’t think a damned thing is wrong.”

“They have a disorder…”

“I know that, and after their house was cleaned the first time, they weren’t willing to seek help. They felt betrayed that ‘all their stuff was taken.’ I’ve tried to get them into regular therapy, but I can’t force it on them.” It looks as if he’s about to slam his fist into the tree, but he pulls back and shakes his head. “I don’t see them much, but I check on them out of a sense of obligation, and I’m sick of bashing my head against the wall. I can’t do it anymore.”

What he’s obviously not saying is that he’s also sick of being tortured by his past memories of having to live here, plus the trauma from growing up in this environment. And I understand. I reallydo.

“Owen,” I say softly, “We can’t just leave them here torot.”

I think of my own parents. What I’d give right now to have even the slimmest chance to save them from their ultimatefate.

But Owen is furious. “No. Fuck that. Did you smell it in there? That’s the stench of my childhood—garbage, pests, rodents, dead animal carcasses, and all manner of nastiness piled under the junk and garbage my parents would collect over the years. When I was finally old enough to exert some influence, they finally agreed to have things cleaned up, but they only went back to their old habits, and now look at the place. It’s just as disgusting and cluttered asever.”

And here he stands before me—the rigidly fanatical man who went in the opposite direction, keeping his life neat and tidy in every way. The one who chose to have no emotional clutter either—no serious romantic entanglements or even close friends.

Just a perfect, sanitary barricade that blocks him from his terrible memorieshere.

“Please just listen to me. We have to at least try.” I reach forhim.

But he steps away. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been in that house and shook his parents’ hands so that makes me contaminated now, or if it’s because I’m not as sick and tired of this situation as he is. Either way, his rebuff stings.

“Why in the world would I expect you to get it?” he asks in a chilledrage.

I tense up. “But Ido.”

“Really?”

He’s wearing that acrid smile again. Something has snapped in him because I’m defending his parents, as if I’m keeping the cycle going—which I’m not trying todo.

“You came into my life and disturbed everything I’ve built,” he grates. “You’ve sent everything into chaos. I hired you specifically so that none of this would happen, but you’ve failed completely at the task you were paid todo.”

I shake my head. He’s going way too far in his anger. He’s blaming me for all his frustrations because he has no other option.

And he isn’t done—seeing his home again, seeing his parents, has possessedhim.

“Instead of doing your job,” he says, “you’re in my business, trying to engulf me in your crazy life and that of my parents’. All I wanted was for you to observe today so you’d understand why I have rules and regulations, not for you to try to pull me into an impossible situation again.”

I’m utterly speechless in the face of this wounded animal. I’m crushed by everything he’s saying to push me away, because that’s what he does—push and push and wall himself up until nothing and no one can get tohim.

A moment saws by, biting through the air. He curses under his breath, then says, “I’m done dealing with all ofthis.”

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