Page 2 of Gathered Sparkle

“How do you think I feel?” I laugh, sharp and bitter. “She bought someone to pretend to care about me. What kind of mother does that?”

“Maybe the kind who doesn’t know how to show her love any other way.”

“Don’t defend her.”

“I’m not,” he says evenly. “I’m just saying… your mother loves you, Nicholas.”

I scoff, wiping my face with my sleeve. “She has a funny way of showing it.”

“She’s blinded by a lot of things. And to be fair…” Oscar chuckles softly, “… I’m not any better at it, am I?”I glance at him, confused, and he meets my gaze with a small, sad smile.“I love you like a son, Nicholas,” he says simply. “I still do. I’ve kept my distance, but that doesn’t mean I stopped. I watch from afar, but you can be damn sure I do.”

Fuck.

There go the tears again.

He’s always been more of a father to me than anyone else ever was, but hearing it out loud? It’s like someone flipped a switch in my chest.

“You’ve got more people in your corner than you realize,” he continues. “Even when it feels like you’re alone. Even when you push them away.”

I swallow hard, wiping at my face again, but I stay quiet.

What the hell could I even say to that?

I love him, too, but does it change anything?

It doesn’t.

After a few moments, he pats my shoulder, his tone shifting to something lighter. “Now, come on. Let’s get back inside. I paid a shit ton of money for those appetizers, and if Koen gets to them first, you know he’ll leave nothing but the parsley.”

I huff a laugh, it’s weak but genuine, and let him pull me to my feet. We don’t walk in together. Oscar heads in first, muttering about guarding the shrimp cocktail and giving me a moment to collect myself. But as I step through the doors, the knot in my chest feels a little lighter, the weight of the night a little less suffocating.

Even from afar, he’s there.

The memory comes to me out of nowhere, a knife dragging across an old wound. I blink, trying to shake it off, but it clings to me.

Why now? Why the hell would I think of Oscarnow?

It feels like déjà vu, the ache of betrayal, the way it’s hollowed me out from the inside. The same way I felt that night five years ago on the steps outside the Lane Building, with Oscar sitting beside me, pulling me back from the edge. I could use that now—his calm, his clarity. The way he always made me feel as though no matter how broken I was, I wasn’t beyond repair.

But he’s not here.

He’ll never be here again.

The thought hits me harder than it should because I’m already spiraling, already teetering on the edge of whatever the fuck this is. My hands grip the doorframe so tightly that I’m surprised the wood doesn’t splinter beneath my fingers. She’s standing there, frozen in the middle of my mother’s office,her office, like a thief caught in the act.

No, notlikea thief. Sheisa thief.

And worse, I let her in.

“Rosie?” I ask again and watch her flinch at the sound of it, her eyes wide and guilty. That guilt should soothe me, but all it does is twist the knife deeper into my chest.

Her hands tremble, clutching that purse like it’s the only thing tethering her to reality. And maybe it is. Maybe it’s the only thing keeping her upright because I can feel her crumbling under my gaze.

I move closer. One step, then another. Each one deliberate. Each one heavy. My eyes dart to the open laptop on the desk, and everything in mesnaps.

“This was never about me, right?” The words scrape out of my throat, and her silence is all the answer I need. “You used me.”

Her face crumples, her lips parting as if she’s going to deny it, but she doesn’t. She can’t. Because we both know it’s the truth.

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