Page 112 of Revenge (Elite of Elmwood 3)

“I’ll be waiting,” he assured, giving my hand one last squeeze.

Nodding, I started up the pathway to the main door. Memories of the first time I’d seen the house came back to me. I’d been so intimidated by it all. The house. The Academy. This upper-class world.

I snuck a glance over my shoulder at him as I reached the door. A streak of the setting sun illuminated the side of his face, washing him in a warm orange-red glow. He didn’t smile or reassure me but leaned against his car like he would jump into battle for me if anyone tried to hurt me.

Before I changed my mind and ran back to Brock’s SUV, I rang the doorbell, licking my dry lips as I waited. Would she already be drunk? It was late evening. Normally, she would have an entire bottle or two gone by now. Perhaps this hadn’t been the ideal time to come by, but today was my night off from Lazy Ray’s, a rare Saturday night. I should be spending it with my boyfriend, curled up on the couch watching a movie or hanging out with the guys by a bonfire, roasting hotdogs.

There would be plenty of time for that, I reminded myself.

Christmas was around the corner. My first one with not just Brock but the Edwards as well. I couldn’t imagine how big of an event Christmas in the upper end of Elmwood would be. I was excited to find out.

Angie opened the door and blinked, gaping at me in disbelief. Her fingers gripped onto the door tighter as if to steady herself, her face blanching.

I stared at the woman who had been the cause of both misery and joy in my life. More misery if I was being honest, but it was a conflicted feeling, seeing her after so much time. She looked like she had aged ten years in just a few weeks. The trial was taking its toll.

Long dark hair hung sleek and straight over her shoulders, not polished into some updo or frazzled from drunken fingers picking at it. She didn’t wear any makeup, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her natural face. Her skin had a natural glow, but there were dark shadows under her eyes, as if she wasn’t sleeping well at night.

“Josephine,” she gasped; a haunted glint sprang into dark eyes like she was seeing a ghost.

Was it sad that my first thought was surprise, that her breath didn’t smell like booze?

“Is it really you?” she softly asked.

“Hi,” I replied, words failing me.

Her hand flew to her heart. Tears glossed over her eyes. “I-I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I wasn’t sure you would,” I admitted.

“Do you want to come in? This is still your home,” she said, too hopeful.

I shook my head. “No, it isn’t. And I just came to say….” Why was this so hard? Why did my throat have to close up now over the words? I just wanted to get this out and leave.

And yet, a small part of me, that little girl who still sought love and acceptance, wanted the woman who I believed was my mother to hug me.

I pictured Brock’s face, felt his presence just in the driveway, feet away. It was all I needed to collect myself and swallow the lump of emotion stuck in my throat. Lifting my chin, I gathered my courage and said, “I forgive you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, bursting free and rolling down her cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much, honey.”

Carter had told me as much, but I could see for myself that she did indeed miss me. “You look… healthy.” She did, and even more so if she got some sleep.

“I stopped drinking,” she informed. “My lawyer said it would help my case if I didn’t show up to court wasted.”

I was surprised she listened. “Regardless of the reason, I’m glad.”

“I don’t know how you can forgive me after everything I’ve done. What Carter did….”

Sometimes it was hard to decipher when she was being sincere. “It’s in the past,” I said. The whole point in coming here had been to let go of the resentment and grudges I’d been holding onto. It was the only way I healed.

“I’m glad you came. Things haven’t been the same since you left.”

My gaze looked past her into the house. “You have Steven now. It seems like he is standing by your side.”

An emotion crossed her features. Doubt? “Even with the best lawyers, it won’t be an easy case. Maybe you could talk to your dad? Get him to drop the charges?” She was desperate to save her life.

My guard went up. “You mean Easton?”

“Yes,your dad,” she reemphasized, and I realized she still didn’t fully understand. Yes, Easton was still my dad to me, but it felt as if Angie was disregarding the Edwards. I didn’t want to believe she did so on purpose, but it was the sense I got.

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