Page 93 of Fierce Love
“That’s what hunters do. They stalk their prey. Learn their weaknesses. Then they go for the jugular. Aunt Verna was your biggest weakness.”
But if it had just been that, I might have held strong. Forfeited college. Stayed here and tried to make enough to pay for a lawyer. The true tipping point was Kinsley. I couldn’t stand the idea of my parents having her, of her growing up in the poverty and violence I’d been raised in. I wasn’t even sure my aunt and Icouldafford to raise her.
Now, I was left with a different set ofif onlysto mull over. If Aunt Verna hadn’t been arrested, I’d have caught my flight to New York. I’d have stuck with my scholarship, and I think, with a clearer head and more life experience, that I would have stuck with Nate too. We would have made it, I think. So when it came time to get custody of Kinsley, we’d have done it together. A whole alternate life laid down, impossible to achieve after I’d veered onto a different track after one night, one set of choices.
“She told me that if I didn’t take the deal on the spot, she wouldn’t help me,” I say.
“Of course,” my mother says with a bitter laugh. “The ticking clock always works in the favor of the person holding the power.”
A familiar trick, one I’d used at Reyes and Cruz to provoke an answer to a product we needed to order or a plan I wanted to execute. Apply pressure in just the right way. I understood the psychology behind it now, but at eighteen, my vision was clouded by my love for Aunt Verna and my terror over Kinsley being forced to walk the same path I had. I couldn’t see the forest—the big picture if I made a different choice—because my vision was filled with those trees right in front of me, the two problems I felt like I had to solveright nowin that moment. Aunt Verna couldn’t spend one more minute in jail, and I couldn’t allow my parents to have custody of Kinsley. But maybe neither of those choices had to be madethat night.
Nate must think I’m such an idiot for making those choices. I cover my face with my hands, and I try to hold back my tears. I was so foolish and naïve.
Now that I have all the pieces, the puzzle doesn’t look the same.
“Sometimes life fucks us over,” my mother says, hands splayed. “You just gotta ride out the fallout.”
For years, I’ve thought I understood what that fallout looked like. The complete and utter loss of Nate, of the kind of loveand security he gave me. Being seeped in those feelings again, learning all this truth, has only made me question everything.
Even if I was pushed to the brink back then, I still made the choice. If I was in Nate’s shoes, I don’t know who I’d forgive, if anyone. My world might feel like it’s teetering, but I can’t imagine how he must be feeling right now. Everything flipped upside down.
Chapter Forty-Four
Nathaniel
It’s taken me longer than I would have liked to end up outside my parents’ mansion. Even now, I’m in the car crawling up the long driveway, trying to wrap my head around everything my mother has done.
The anger is still there, bubbling, waiting to hit a full boil again, but it’s been doused with a shot of sadness. She watched me suffer for years. It was completely in her power to end that suffering, and she did nothing. What kind of person does that? What kind ofmother?
There’s a good chance I’ve lost the element of surprise by storming all over Tucker’s Town, intent on setting things right. But I can’t worry too much about that.
Instead, I need to focus on letting my anger loose. Sadness can gnaw at me later, but for now, anger is the only emotion I’ll feed.
After I park the car, I enter the house without waiting for one of the butlers my mother employs. They change so often that Ihave trouble keeping track of who is who anymore. Celia Tucker is hard to work for.
“Mother!” I yell, my voice reverberating around the mostly empty house.
“Sir,” the newest butler says from the top of the stairs. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Where’s my mother?”
“In the main living room, I believe,” he says, descending the stairs in a rush to follow behind me. “I need to announce you.”
“No need,” I say. “I’m her eldest son.”
“Oh, Nathaniel,” my mother says, setting down her tablet when I enter the huge open plan room. “What a pleasant surprise. Gerrard, it’s fine,” she says to the man behind me.
I slap a sheaf of papers down on the coffee table in front of her, and I drop a pen on top. “I need you to sign this.”
“What is it?” she asks, picking up the stack.
Her color isn’t good—a bit gray—and I try to ignore my instinct to care.
“A custody agreement. You’re turning over full custody of Kinsley Davis to Hollyn Davis, effective today. Caitlin and I are taking it to the judge as soon as it’s signed.” The handy part about having a cousin who’s a well-respected lawyer is how quickly some things can be done.
She drops the pen without scrawling her signature. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why wouldIhave custody of Kinsley Davis?” Her tone is shocked, but I’m not letting her play me this time.
“I know what you did. I know it all,” I say. “You tricked Hollyn. I read all the legal documents, the contracts, the nondisclosure agreements. Verna kept every piece. I even know about the deal you struck with Mickie when she found out you’d framed her and Verna. The NDA you had Verna sign, so she couldn’t tell me orHollyn the truth. I’d ask what you were thinking, but I know. You were only thinking of yourself.”
