Thorns and Forgiveness : Twisted Legacy Duet Page 2

  I chewed on my battle scars. Broken homes started wars if you weren’t careful.

  Jess continued, “And I don’t want this to make you spiral. I’ve seen how you cope, and I don’t know how you’re going to react to a full-blown broken heart.”

  I fought the urge to scowl. I knew Jess was coming from a good place, but how I coped wasn’t as big of a deal as she made it out to be. I was fine. On the anniversary of my mother’s death, I didn’t want to think about my family’s shitty past. But with Vera? I wanted to feel every ounce of this pain. I wanted to sit and absorb what I’d done. Last night, I’d gotten drunk, but it didn’t numb me. I just wanted to…sit. I wanted to settle in and not leave my fucking house.

  “Want to go to the gym? Or maybe we could…”

  “I don’t want to do anything, Jess. Actually, I kind of just want to be alone for a little while.”

  Jess reared back and placed her hand on her chest as if I’d slapped her. I might as well have. We did everything together. When shit went down, she was my rock. But not right now. I just wanted time to myself.

  “Oh,” Jess said in a dejected tone. “Okay. Are you sure? We can veg out and order from your favorite Greek restaurant—”

  “I just want to be alone,” I repeated.

  “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” Jess asked, unconvinced.

  “I’m not going to leave my fucking house. Just go. Please. Thanks for taking care of me last night. I just need time.”

  Jess let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. But like if you go anywhere—”

  “I won’t.”

  “If you want to do anything—”

  “I don’t.”

  Jess nodded. “Oh. I took Little Mama on a walk earlier, but she’ll probably need to go outside again soon... Want me to stay until then?”

  At hearing her name, my dog got up from her bed in the corner of the room and padded over to me. “I’ve got it,” I replied before patting Little Mama on the head and settling in on the couch.

  Jess silently stood there for a moment before sighing in defeat and excusing herself.

  My father taught me that we were all born with hearts made of glass. Delicate, murderous little tools pounding in our chests. I just needed to take some time and toughen it up with a bit of fire and agony. After all, I was a Beauregard. And Beauregards didn’t suffer from empathy, remorse, and guilt. We stepped barefoot on the shattered shards like little psychopaths, proving to the world that we didn’t need pretty emotions to survive.

  2

  Vera

  My mom’s designer luggage was weighed down with clothes, regret, and empty promises. I struggled to carry each bag by myself, but I managed.

  I brought the heavy suitcases into Jack Beauregard’s home as my mother stood on the porch. Her black cardigan was wrapped tightly around her body, and she had her chin raised in indignation, looking down on the property like a scorned queen. Mom’s sunken-in cheeks hollowed as she chewed on her thoughts. Though she was silent, her body language screamed at me.

  I knew she was mad. I’d broken the cardinal rule: I interfered in her happily ever after.

  “Jack should be home later. I have a roast in the crock pot. I thought maybe tonight we could bake cookies,” I offered on a grunt before dropping one of her particularly heavy suitcases. She stared at the tree line in the distance, not bothering to respond. “We used to bake cookies all the time. Remember, Mom?”

  Nothing. No answer. The silence stretched like barbed wire between two fence posts. Pulled tight, sharp with guarded intent.

  Mom wasn’t happy about being away from her husband and back in Connecticut. And from what I gathered, Joseph wasn’t happy about Jack’s meddling either. I didn’t get to listen in on the negotiations, but it took some finesse to get my mother on a plane. Why my mother didn’t jump at the chance to get the hell away from her husband was a mystery to me. I saw the painful bruises. I knew what my stepfather was capable of. But perhaps she sensed the same uncertainties about Jack as I did. I wasn’t sure if I could trust him, but I didn’t really have any other options.

  My grandfather claimed that he was done covering up his oldest son’s sins, but I didn’t feel comfortable trusting his sudden change of heart. And until this morning, I wasn’t even sure he was capable of keeping up his end of the deal. It had been four days since I agreed to his little arrangement. Four days since I found out my relationship with Hamilton was nothing but a lie. Four days of embarrassment and regret. Four days to get lost in my thoughts and come up with a game plan for saving my mom and abiding by Jack’s terms.

  He wanted me to mend his relationship with Hamilton, but I wanted nothing to do with the man who broke my heart, then disappeared. Hamilton had completely ghosted me. No calls, texts, or emails. I should have been pleased by that, but the selfish part of me had hoped that he would at least try to reach out and apologize. My ego wanted him to grovel. But in the last four days, I’d gotten nothing but radio silence.

  I really did mean nothing to Hamilton Beauregard.

  Even though it broke my heart to think that he never cared, I knew that this would make my job much easier. Jack’s plan hinged on the idea that Hamilton loved me enough to mend their relationship. Little did my grandfather know his son didn’t even like me enough to send a text.

  Maybe Hamilton took my words in the woods to heart. In the midst of my pain, I begged him to never speak to me again. But I suppose a part of me pushed him away to see how hard he would push to get back to me. It was wrong and immature, but I’ve always been the person fighting for the relationships in my life. Just once, I wanted someone to fight for me.

  At least my mother was here, safe and sound.

  When I picked her up at the airport earlier this afternoon, I had to force myself not to sob at the sight of her. While clenching my teeth, I ran my eyes up and down my battered and beaten mother. Her make-up was caked on, likely hiding the bruises littering her swollen face. She looked half starved to death and downright miserable. The first words she said to me were, “I hate it here.” I didn’t understand what was so bad about being back in Connecticut. I was here, wasn’t I? That had to count for something.

  Even now, she looked almost sick. “Don’t bother unpacking my things, Vera. I’m not staying for long,” she finally murmured after I lugged the last Louis Vuitton suitcase into the house. She tore her eyes away from the yard where just a while ago she celebrated her marriage. With a huff, she followed me inside.

  “Unpacking won’t hurt anything. Besides, Jack said you’re going to stay here while Joseph acclimates to his new job and until your new house is built. That could take months.” I prayed that it took months—years—eternity.

  “We were doing just fine until Jack called. My husband was very angry, Vera. Very, very angry. I can’t believe you told Jack about…about…” She cleared her throat before continuing, “Um, my last visit. You’re still young. You don’t understand, Vera.”

  She’s lucky I didn’t tell the police about her last visit. She might want to shove her husband’s abuse under the rug, but I refused to. Mom showed up half dead, and I was supposed to just let it go? No. I refused. Letting out a sigh, I continued, “There isn’t much to understand. Joseph hurt you. I didn’t know what to do—”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have called Jack. Joseph didn’t mean to hurt me. Sometimes his anger gets the best of him. He just has a lot of expectations of me, and I have to try harder to meet them. I was so close. I’ve been working out. I’ve made his favorite dinners. I pick up his dry cleaning. I wear his favorite colors and ignore the nights he works late. I’m his fucking wife. I can do this. I can be what he needs. I just needed more time. You don’t get it.” Mom’s words meshed together like a rambling broken record. What had Joseph done to her?

  She was right about one thing, though. I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure that any explanation my mother gave me would help me to make sense of it all.

  I
let out a sigh and moved her belongings to the first-floor bedroom Jack had set up for her, giving my mother more time to obsess about what coming here would mean for her marriage, and when I walked back, I caught the tail end of her mumbling to herself. “He’s going to find someone else…”

  “You’re his wife! You’re married, Mom. You already got him. You aren’t responsible for his actions. You aren’t responsible for his lack of integrity. If he chooses to cheat, that’s his fault. Not yours,” I said, my voice stern and harsh.

  Her lip curled, and she spun to face me. “You don’t know anything. You don’t understand what it means to keep a man like Joseph’s attention—to keep him happy and agreeable. We were already hanging by a thread.”

  Good, I wanted to say. Let the thread snap. Shatter. Dissolve and disappear. Let us both live our lives in peace. I wanted to destroy anything that tethered us to the Beauregards.

  How could she possibly settle for a relationship like that?

  “If I married a man like Joseph, a man who beat me up and cheated on me, would you be happy for me?” I bravely asked. I just wanted her to see things through my eyes. Nothing seemed worth her well-being and happiness.

  Mom scowled. “At the rate you’re going, you’d be lucky to pull someone like Joseph. I had everything set up for you. Sent you to a school filled with eligible men that have trust funds and financial security people like us can only dream of. But you threw it away.”

  Her words hurt, but I pressed on, desperate to get through to her. “But what if I didn’t? What if I married a man like Joseph? A man who hurt me without a care.”

  She inhaled deeply and turned to look at me. “I think we established with Hamilton that it doesn’t matter if I approve of the men you date. You’ve always been so reckless. I had such high hopes for you, Vera. I wanted you to do things right. Wait until marriage and find yourself a wealthy man that can take care of you. Not settle for a man like Hamilton.” Her snarky tone sent a wave of anger through me.

  I thought about the rose she once compared me to and wondered if there were any petals left. If I was a pretty flower, then Hamilton crushed me in his fist. Hamilton was a mistake, one that left wounds you couldn’t see, but were still just as painful.

  Hamilton was still a gut-wrenching topic. The man was only with me to sell me out. So much pain could have been avoided had I just listened to my mother and kept my distance. And the worst part was, I couldn’t even validate my fragile mother with the truth. Jack wanted me to mend his family—continue on like nothing had happened. He expected me to bridge the gap between Hamilton and me, overcoming his absence with determination and pity.

  I changed the subject to avoid telling her what had happened. A year ago, it would have felt unnatural not to tell her. There was a time I thought we shared everything. Now, it was just another secret, another lie piled like bricks between us. I had to approach her like a sleeping lion, delicately tiptoeing across her cavernous heart like anything could startle it. “You’re staying with Jack. You like Jack. I doubt Joseph will forget his wife.”

  “He just wants to hide me away. He’s embarrassed by me. Ashamed of me.”

  “Mom. This is only temporary.” At least until whatever toxic spell he has you under has worn off.

  “Just like my marriage,” she spat. “I’ll have nothing. I’ll have to work as a…maid and a waitress. I’ll be a nobody again. A joke. How am I supposed to go back now that I’ve had a taste of everything?”

  Everything was just another word for empty. She could fill her life up with designer luxuries and money and influence, but it meant absolutely nothing. Joseph was still an abuser. The Beauregards were still twisted liars.

  “Mom. I’m here for you, okay? Everything is going to be okay.”

  She looked at me, her eyes dragging up and down my body with such scrutiny that I wanted to scream until every damn window in this massive house burst. I wondered if she noticed the bags under my eyes, or the oversized clothes on my body. Did she see how broken I looked? How destroyed Hamilton left me? Or was she so wrapped up in her own problems, that she couldn’t see past the tip of her own nose? “You need to eat,” she murmured. So maybe she had noticed.

  “So do you,” I said.

  “Are you doing well in school?” she pressed.

  I was getting straight A’s but had no friends. No life outside of class.

  “I’ve got great grades.”

  “That’s good, Vera. I’m going to my room for the night. Tell Jack thank you for letting me stay here and that I’ll properly greet him tomorrow.” She straightened her spine, shutting off her emotions in the blink of an eye.

  I wanted to pressure her to join us for dinner, mostly because I wasn’t willing to eat with Jack alone. I knew he was going to ask me about Hamilton.

  “Goodnight,” Mom said before I could argue. Realizing it was hopeless to have a reasonable conversation with her, I left her to sulk so I could go check on dinner. Jack would be arriving any minute now, and I wanted to have the table set before he arrived.

  I didn’t trust Jack. I didn’t like that he was holding me hostage with an agreement that would protect my mother and safeguard my college tuition.

  The front door opened, and I listened attentively as footsteps clicked across the tiled floors toward me. “Hello, Vera,” he said Jack wore a sharkskin three-piece suit, and his hair was slicked back. The dark brown briefcase in his grasp drew my eye.

  “Hello, Jack. How was work?” I greeted politely.

  “Work has been…difficult lately. I spent an entire day with my team of accountants. I will never understand why someone would want a career crunching numbers.” He let out a sigh.

  “Sounds like a long day,” I replied conversationally. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Will your mother be joining us?”

  “She’s tired from the flight,” I answered simply, the thinly veiled lie flowing off my tongue.

  Jack looked lost in thought for a moment as I grabbed two dinner plates. “My late wife was tired often.” I didn’t like that he was comparing my mother to his deceased wife, but I nodded. “I’d like to speak with her soon. I have a few questions about Joseph.” Jack set down his briefcase and breathed in the smell of dinner. I watched him, my entire body on edge. Jack continued speaking as I served both of us. “I’m sorry it took me a bit longer to get her here than we originally agreed upon. Joseph wasn’t as willing to let her out of his sight. I’m not sure if it’s because he genuinely likes having her around or if he fears losing control over her by sending her away. My son has always been a selfish fucker.”

  I breathed in. “How did you get Mom here, by the way?”

  Jack answered easily. “I told him that some photos of Lilah with a black eye had surfaced and that he perhaps needed some space to acclimate to DC and cool down. I also told him I wouldn’t stop the photos from making the papers if he didn’t comply.”

  “You blackmailed him? Do you even have photos?”

  Jack grinned. “I was bluffing, but he doesn’t have to know that. My son doesn’t like airing out his dirty laundry. It is easy to bury your own faults deep when you only have to convince yourself that you’re perfect. It gets harder to do that when the world is pointing its finger at you. I’m ashamed of what he’s done, Vera. I’m not sure he would have let your mother come here if I hadn’t done that.”

  It was jarring to hear Jack speak so candidly about his son. “Well, let’s eat, yes?”

  “Yes. Speaking of, there’s plenty of food here. Why don’t you invite Hamilton to dinner?”

  I prayed the floor would swallow me up. My chest constricted with a palpable pain that made breathing difficult. I knew this was coming, but I still hated it all the same. “You want me to invite Hamilton to dinner?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Jack replied simply. “I would.”

  “He won’t come.”

  “I think he will. It’s worth a try.”

  I let out a shaky breath and
stared Jack down. A deal was a deal, I’d just hoped for more time to convince my heart that Hamilton was bad news.

  “Fine. I doubt he’ll even answer,” I said.

  “I think my son will surprise you,” Jack replied easily. His cocky behavior reminded me that he’d built a political career with that smug smile. Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I clicked Hamilton’s name and turned on the speaker. I wanted Jack to listen to this. It made the call feel less personal.

  It rang.

  And rang.

  And rang.

  Then went to voicemail. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Jack.

  “Leave a message,” he said.

  I ground my teeth as the line beeped.

  “Hey, Hamilton. Um. I just was calling to see if you wanted to talk?” My voice sounded lame. “I made dinner if you’re hungry. Feel free to call me. Or don’t.” I quickly added that last part, then winced. “Okay. Bye. Hope you’re doing well.”

  I hung up the phone and let out a huff of air. “See? He didn’t answer.”

  “He could be busy. Let’s eat before dinner gets cold, hmm?”

  My heart was still pounding from the embarrassment and adrenaline of my call to Hamilton. I felt like a fool, leaving him that message. At best, Hamilton would think I was pathetic and block my number. He wasn’t the type of man to like clingy women.

  I’d just sat down at the table with my food when my phone started ringing.

  My eyes connected with Jack’s. He grinned triumphantly, and the eager look on his face made me rage. Sure enough, Hamilton had called me back.

  I answered after taking a deep breath, making sure to put him on speaker so Jack could hear the conversation. It made it feel less…personal. “Hello?” I croaked. I’d never felt so small or so stupid.

  “Why the fuck did you call me?” Hamilton asked. His booming voice made me tremble. It was an extremely unexpected greeting.

  “I just…”