Page 75 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Doesn’t matter who I am.

Doesn’t matter what I accomplish.

It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Khalohn finishes the last bit of bourbon in his glass, then stares at the bottom. The sluggishness that accompanies a bloodstream diluted with alcohol seems to hit him all at once. Still, as he gazes into nothing at the bottom of his glass, he makes himself a promise. From now on, he will give himself to his work. He will sail into the unknown alone—the captain of his own ship—seeking and finding treasure wherever he can. He will take from life and enjoy the spoils. But his heart—his heart he will store in the deepest bowels of the ship. His mind, his most valuable asset, will be his guide, and solitude will be his constant, faithful companion.

He jerks his head in a decisive nod and the room spins a little. Knowing he’s on the cusp of drowning the weakest part of himself—the man who used to be someone’s husband—he pours himself another glass.

It happened soslowly. From where she wedged herself on the mattress, her body squeezed between the bed rail and her mother, Jessica felt the achingly slow rise and fall of Beth’s chest for one hour. And then another. And another.

It happened so fast. Her last breath. Jessica didn’t realize she had synced her own breath with her mother’s until she found herself holding hers. When it registered that Beth no longer needed to inhale, Jessica held her breath until she felt the squeeze of Stefano’s hand.

Now she can’t stop weeping. She clings to Beth’s lifeless body, wondering how it’s possible she’s gone. Wondering how it could have possibly happened so fast. Only a week ago, there was still hope, and now there’s nothing. Her heart is broken, shattered into a million little pieces she doesn’t want to pick up. She’s not ready. She’s not ready to face a world where her mother no longer resides. She’s not ready to wake up in a place where the only family she’s ever known is gone. She’s not ready.

Mama, I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.

“Jess?” It’s Jackie who speaks, but Jessica ignores her.

She can barely feel it as Stefano combs his fingers through her hair. He presses a gentle kiss against her temple before reaching for her hand, still wrapped around Beth’s waist.

“I’m so sorry, dove. I’m so sorry, but we’ve got to go, sweetie. We’ve got to go.”

Jessica shakes her head, squeezing her mother tighter, terrified of leaving her side for the last time.

“I can’t. I can’t. Huey, I can’t,” she cries. “Oh, mygod!”

There’s a loud hiccup followed by a sob, and then Jackie rushes from the room with a feeble, “Excuse me.”

“It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re not alone,” Stefano speaks softly into her ear, not losing his focus. “I’ve got you, dove. I’ve got you.”

Stefano pries her arm away from Beth, lifting it until its draped over his shoulders. Sliding his own arm under her, he lifts her from the place she’s been laying for hours.

“It’s time, Jess. They’ve got to take her,” he insists as she twists to catch another glimpse of Beth.

He tightens his hold around her middle, and she stumbles over the side of the bed and onto her feet. As soon as her feet hit the ground, her knees give way. Stefano catches her, folding her into a clumsy embrace.

“Let’s get you home, okay? Can you stand for me, dove? I’ve got you.”

By the time Jessica is able to command the muscles in her legs, her wracking sobs have quieted. One arm snaked around Stefano’s waist, the other clinging to the front of his thin sweater, she allows herself to be guided out of the hospital. She sees nothing and hears even less, silent tears soaking her cheeks unceasingly.

Stefano manages to get her into a taxi. It isn’t until they pull up in front of her apartment that she notices it’s nighttime. With her best friend’s support, she’s escorted to her unit. The second the door swings open, her grief becomes so much that her body goes numb.

“What do you need?” asks Stefano, closing them inside.

She shakes her head, offering him nothing more before she turns out of his hold and walks straight for her mother’s room. The scent of Beth is overwhelming, and she closes her eyes as she breathes it in. From where she’s standing, the scent is untarnished. It isn’t mingled with the sterile smell of a hospital. Wishing to drown in it, Jessica slides out of her shoes and buries herself under the covers on her mother’s bed. As she hugs the sheets close to her chest, the awareness that she’ll never hug Beth again causes a crack in her body’s numbness. As her eyes well up with fresh tears, she clenches her fists tight beneath her chin, afraid if she starts crying again, she won’t be able to stop. But she can’t help it.

Fortunately, mercifully, her sobs wring her completely dry, until sleep pulls her under.

Khalohn paces aroundhis office, the Bluetooth headset in his ear tuning him in to a conference call on which he’s too distracted to focus. As a voice drones on, he stops in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, his eyes catching sight of the Brooklyn Bridge. Like he’s been doing since the previous night, he surrenders to the pull Jessica has on his thoughts. He told Adams he didn’t want him watching for her any longer, but that doesn’t stop him from wondering about the woman who was born and raised across the bridge.

“Listen, I’ve got to hop on another meeting.” Khalohn refocuses on the conversation in his ear, shifting his gaze back into his office. “We’re scheduled for a follow-up next week. We should have the loose ends tied up by then, and we’ll go from there.”

As the call comes to an end, Khalohn knows he should be more concerned with the business he was too distracted to digest. Trouble is, he’s not concerned. He’s curious. He’s frustrated. He’s annoyed. Worst of all, he’s restless. It’s uncharacteristic of him to pace around his office, but he can’t shake the unsettled feeling that’s been pestering him at an increasing rate as the week drags on.

He hasn’t seen or heard from Bryn—Jessica—since their argument. He was too stubborn to admit his concern then. Looking back, it’s obvious his stubbornness is something he’s been holding onto for a lot longer than a few days. Since the first time he sank himself inside of her, she’s been more than his beck-and-call girl, but he arranged it so it was impossible for her to be anything else. He took what he wanted, clung to the fantasy, and ignored what was real.

Now he has no one to blame but himself for believing the lie—but he blames her anyway. He blames her for being the most genuine woman he’s ever had, wrapped in the guise of someone else’s identity. He blames her for the desire that still stirs deep within him. He blames her for the questions which plague his mind. He wants answers; and he won’t be able to get her out of his head until he has them.

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