Page 159 of The Echo of Forever
I hummed quietly, my focus remaining on the only important factor in all this.
“Not right now,” I replied, careful to keep my voice soft so close to her ears. “Come back later and bring Soleme with you.”
Lucien said nothing as I continued to ignore his presence. I wasn’t about to entertain any request from my mother until she faced me directly. No more intermediaries.
“She’s not ready to face you yet,” he finally said. “Not until Forever does her part.”
“Then we don’t talk,” I countered simply. “Forever already placed her pieces where they need to be; she’s doing her part. Soleme gotta come up off something else worth my wife risking her life, or Imma dead all this shit.”
“What is it you want?” Lucien asked, sounding bored.
He didn’t give a fuck one way or another, the only true neutral party in this game.
“To open Everwood up for business with outside organizations through a council made up of representatives from each,” I said, closing my eyes. “But she can start with seeking forgiveness from Oliver and Solei. Tell her to make it right with them and then give me what I want, and we’ll be square.”
Forever’s arms tightened around my waist, and I took it as a silent show of support that meant more than any words could.
CHAPTER 41
FOREVER
My mother was pretendingto be asleep.
I could tell by the way her chest rose and fell; it was too unnatural. A little too perfect.
I sat at the edge of her bed, one leg tucked under me as I watched the performance. The private facility had been her pet project before she sold it, designed to look less clinical and more comfortable for people going through mental health crises. It was still a psychiatric facility, though. No amount of hotel-style décor could mask that truth. Just like no amount of fake sleeping could hide the fact that my mother was in a mood to play around.
“I don’t have all day, Quinn,” I said, flicking the bottom of her exposed foot. “You know I sense you’re awake.”
She laughed, the sound bursting from her chest like she’d been holding it in, and flipped the blanket back. Her eyes were bright and full of life now that her meds were starting to regulate.
To me, my mother had always been unserious about almost everything, but the more time I spent in her presence, the more I realized it was just a front.
“You always were too perceptive for your own good,” she said, adjusting the pillows behind her back. “It’s why I tried to teach you to fake sleep when you were little.”
I let that sit between us for a moment, wondering if she was making it up or if I really didn’t remember all the important things from my childhood.
“Why did you drug me when I was eleven?” I asked, jumping straight to the reason I’d come.
There was no point in small talk or circling what I needed to know. I’d conclude that I couldn’t be everything Demetrius needed if I wasn’t actively facing a past I knew was a little murky.
My ma’s smile disappeared in an instant. Her eyes drilled into me with an intensity that gave me pause.
“You don’t want to die anymore?” she asked instead of answering my question. “Is it because you remember him now?”
The question took me aback, the abrupt shift knocking me mentally off-balance. I’d expected deflection, not an interrogation about my suicidal thoughts. Not questions about Demetrius. The way she saidhimcarried weight, like she knew exactly what he meant to me before I did.
“What are you talking about?”
“Destiny LaPorte came by to see me,” she went on, moving the conversation in a completely different direction.
The sudden pivot irritated me.
“What does that have to—”
“I have a spa appointment set for later this afternoon,” she continued, not giving me a chance to get a word in edgewise. Her eyes flicked to the window, then back to me. “Go in my place and I’ll tell you, even though I don’t want to.”
The way she said it made my chest tighten with unexpected…sadness?For all our differences, for all the secrets and lies between us, she was still my mother. I slid closer to her and took one of her hands in mine. Her fingers were cold like always.
