Page 88 of Chasing Forever
All the air rushes from my lungs like he punched me in the gut.
My mom wails and pushes past him, clinging to me. “Why would you do that?” she sobs.
I’m in shock. Numb. Everything inside me collapses.
He’s not my father.
“I—” I nudge her off me.
“Tell him. Tell him how you left me and slept with someone else. That you don’t even know who his father is.” My father’s face is full of rage, but also satisfaction.
I wonder how long he’s dreamed of dropping this bomb. How many times he’s daydreamed about how much he’d hurt me.
My mom’s eyes beg me to stay, but the world has already tilted off its axis.
Everything makes sense now. How he always fawned over Holden. How nothing I did was ever good enough. How I’d catch him looking at me with resentment sometimes.
I wasn’t his.
“Then I guess this just made everything easier.” I open the door.
“No. Brooks, listen to me?—”
“Let him go,” my dad spits out.
My mom follows me outside, collapsing onto the bricks, crying as though she loves me. If she really loved me, she wouldn’t try to tear apart the woman I love.
I get in my truck, slamming the door, and drive off.
Turns out my whole life was built on a lie, and I had no idea.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lottie
I’m in bed on Monday morning, having already called Saylor to take over my shift.
Brooks never messaged me, and I have no right to think he would have. But I still check my phone obsessively. Still hope. Still hate myself for causing our fight.
Nash came and picked us up at the hospital, and while the nurse wrapped Poppy’s ankle, I cried as if it was my ankle, not hers. I cried when the lady from reception brought me my purse, saying the young man we were with had dropped it off. I cried most of the drive home, facing the window so no one would see.
I thought ending it with Brooks was the right choice. That some sort of relief would wash over me afterward. That I’d go back to normal. Whatever that is. That I’d feel how I did before we got married in Vegas. But this feeling eating away at my insides is even worse.
A knock lands on my bedroom door, and when I don’t say anything, holding my breath that whoever it is will just go away, the door creaks open. I remain in my bed, hoping if I pretend I’m asleep, they’ll leave. The mattress dips, and a hand falls on my shoulder, running down my arm. It’s warm and comforting.
Mom.
I should’ve known but had hoped she was in the middle of the breakfast rush at The Getaway Lodge.
“Sweetie.”
I pull the covers over my head. “Not now, Mom.”
“Come on a ride with me?” Her hand continues to run down my arm. “I think we’re due for a talk.”
I push the covers off and sit up in bed. “I don’t want to talk.”
She nods like she understands, but how could she? She’s never destroyed a relationship with someone who feels like home. She pats my knee and stands. “Get up and meet me outside.”
