Page 25 of Broken

Mia saw me looking around and waved me over. That fact that Tess shifted uncomfortably in her seat didn't escape me.

"Hey, guys." I greeted the group. "Thanks for inviting me. You really didn't have to." I said, feeling completely out of place at the moment.

Sitting down next to Tess, I couldn't avoid the "And you didn't have to accept. But here you are."

"Tess!" Mia and Noah both exclaimed.

"What? It's true. She didn't have to come tonight or come back at all." Tess turned to me. "They're both hoping that if we are super sweet if we forgive and forget that you up and left us, you'll come home.

Maybe you'll stick around now."

"Tess, please." Mia pleaded with her sister.

"No, Mia. It's fine, she has every right to be angry with me. Tess. I don't expect you to forgive and forget. Fuck, I’m so fucking lucky your sister and Noah have been kind as it is. I don't deserve it. But I promise not to disappear from your life ever again, or Mias."

"I'm still so fucking pissed off at you." Tess laughed and wrapped her arms around me for a hug. A hug I desperately needed.

The whole time, Noah watched the scene unfold quietly. I had my secrets. Hell, he and I shared a few that would destroy our little circle. One bigger than any secret I might be hiding in Palm Springs, but I worried that Aine might be one secret that he wouldn't forgive me for keeping.

Callum made his way over to our table. He had grown up too. He still didn't stand as tall as Kai, but he had the same dark hair and blue eyes as his brothers.

Cal wore his a little longer than Kai or Noah. It went passed his ears. He was well-muscled and fit. That was no surprise either. The Carter boys had always been active and in shape. The slightest hint of ink peeked out of the collar of his shirt. Gone was the sweet, awkward little boy I remembered. He'd grown into a sexy, dark beast of a man.

It made sense, the four of them together. A family, a group of friends who would do anything for each other.

I was happy for them. This was what I wanted for all of them, even Kai, who was inexplicably absent from tonight's gathering. Most likely because he wanted to be as far away from me as possible. Who could blame him though? If they knew what I said to him the last time we spoke, they wouldn't be so quick to forgive either.

I needed to get out of here. I hated lying to the people I loved, and while Mia and Tess knew about my daughter, there was so much I couldn't tell them. I made some partially true excuses about being tired and needing sleep. I planned to meet with the funeral home in the morning to discuss my mother's final arrangements and needed to get some sleep.

It seemed to be believable, and I got through my round of hugs and 'I love You's' and I left.

fifteen

Sinclair

Onmywaybackto my hotel, something invisible pulled at me. It pulled me past the Carter family home and past the spot on the lawn where I set fire to my school supplies all those years ago. I stared at my front porch. Completely lit up by the soft white of the porch lamp.

I was a moth, and the light was a flame. I couldn't stop my feet from heeding its call. Noah made sure to lock the door when he left after officially starting as the realtor representing me. A tiny blue box hung from the door handle. I didn't have the code for it or a spare.

I found an old hide-a-key rock by that same old wicker chair that had been on the porch my whole life and used it to break a small window on the door and let myself in.

It wasn't breaking and entering if I owned it, right?

The living room was void of furniture. Noah or Kai must have had the furniture taken to the thrift store earlier today. Most likely done when Mia and I spent the afternoon together. I had one less thing on my plate this week. I let out a relaxing breath.

Two small boxes sat on the kitchen counter. The word Sinclair is written on both.

The first one contained important documents. Birth certificates, the deed to the house, and my father's death certificate. Nothing important or necessary to my well-being. Someone labeled the other box: For Sin.

I took the box and found a comfortable spot on the living room floor against a wall and opened it. I discovered it was full of envelopes. Tons of letters all addressed "Sinclair" in my mother's handwriting. At the bottom, under the stacks of letters, were some worn leather journals.

What in the ever-loving fuck was this shit? I knew the woman; I knew her well. Why the hell would someone hold on to this shit? And what in God's name made them think I would want to know any more of her than I already did?

But there was something in me that wanted to know what the letters said. Some small part of me that loved to hurt, missed the pain and punishment that I grew to know from my mother.

I picked up the top letter, and by the light coming in through the window from the porch, I read.

Sinclair

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