Page 48 of Absolution
I scarcely breathe while I wait for her reply, my chest drawing tighter with each passing second.
“You might want to pretend that we’re not even related, but we have a lot in common,” she finally says, voice eerily soft and flat.
Dread pools in my belly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“My father was a complicated man.” She takes another sip of wine. “I have a very clear memory from when I was twelve. He took me out to the ranch in Montana, just the two of us. My older sister was so jealous. Daddy always spent time alone with her, but they’d grown apart in that last year or so.”
She drinks her Sauvignon blanc and continues to stare out at the horizon. “I was so excited to go on a trip with him. And then I remember…” She pauses, and I’m not sure if she’s going to say anything else for several agonizing heartbeats. “My sister was so jealous when I told her.”
If my stomach weren’t empty, I’d be sick again. My throat burns, but there’s nothing in me to purge.
“Jeffrey takes after him.” The horror isn’t over. “He always had a sick interest in me when we were children. You know he’s eight years older than I am, right?” She says it in an offhand tone, as though she’s reminding me of a forgotten, distantly related aunt. “He was so cruel when we would play together.”
The waves crash, and gulls screech overhead, but the world feels silent in the wake of her horrific revelations—as though an atomic bomb has gone off, and there’s nothing left but a toxic wasteland.
“You knew?” I finally ask, my hands shaking as much as my voice. “And you left me alone with him?”
My mother blinks, and she finally turns to look at me. Her usually incisive eyes are dull, her tone still soft and detached, when she says the most disturbing thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
“I didn’t explicitly know it was happening, and I’m sorry that it did. But I can’t say that I’m surprised. These things run in the family.”
She sips at her beloved wine, almost serene while I’m utterly devastated.
Some part of me recognizes that she’s endured more trauma than I ever realized, and she’s probably disassociating right now.
But she’s my mother. She’s supposed to protect me.
She’s supposed to love me.
My battered heart takes another beating, and I press a hand to the center of my chest in an attempt to dull the pain.
She doesn’t say anything else. No words of comfort. No promise to make her brother suffer for what he did to me.
What he did to both of us.
I get to my feet and walk toward the boardwalk on leaden legs. I feel like I’ve aged a decade over the last twenty-four hours, and my entire body aches.
Dane.
I need Dane.
He can’t fix what happened to me, but as long as I’m in his arms, I’m safe.
17
DANE
I’ve almost finished packing when Abigail enters our bedroom. Pure panic threatens to rise up and choke off my ability to breathe, but I ruthlessly shove it down.
I’m cold, unfeeling. A monster in human skin.
This is my natural state, the way I’m meant to be.
But nothing feels natural about being coldly calculating with Abigail.
Not anymore.
She notes the large leather duffel bag in my hand, and her brows knit above her red-rimmed eyes. Her cheeks are chalk white, and her sable hair is disheveled, as though she’s been running her hands through it repeatedly. The perfect purple curl is broken and snarled. My fingers itch with the desire to smooth it.
