“Oh my God.” I’m so stunned, I don’t really know what I should or could say right now. When I do open my mouth to speak, all I can muster is, “Your father’s a monster.”
Saint’s mouth tightens at the corners. “Yes, well, he worked hard to build me up in his image.”
I grab his hand. It’s an instinctual move, and I don’t even realize I’ve done it until we’re touching, but I don’t try to take it back.
“You’re not a monster,” I insist in a fierce tone. “An asshole, sure, but not a monster.”
At last, he looks down at me. He looks tired. Like, bone-deep weary. His eyes are still a little glazed because he’s still drunk and high, but I can see he’s sobering up quickly.
He shakes my hand off of his so he can reach up and cup my face.
“If I weren’t a monster,” he murmurs, running his thumb across my bottom lip with a painfully gentle touch, “we’d be fine, huh?”
“What?” I gasp, shaking my head. “Saint, no. That’s not—”
But he’s already drawing his hand from my face and turning for the door. I want to stop him and try to offer some kind of comfort, but I don’t know what I would do or what I would say. He was right. He has put up with a nightmare his whole life, and I can only imagine what his father has tried to force on him in the years since his thirteenth birthday.
It’s no wonder he’s so cold-hearted. Why it’s so hard for him to be intimate with someone beyond sex. What he’s told me explains so much, and yet I’m not sure if it can really change things. There’s so much between us that’s rotten. It’s not all our faults, but it feels like we were doomed to fail before we even met each other.
I watch him pause with his hand on the doorknob. Is he waiting for me to stop him?
Opening my mouth, I try to say something. To call him back at least, so we can talk all this through together. No words come out, however. My lips seal back together, and I stare at him, at a loss for what I should do right now.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he’s disappointed. I feel like total shit, but I still don’t call his name when he opens the bathroom door and steps back out into the hall.
The next moment, he’s gone, and I’m left alone with nothing but my guilt and his awful memories running through my head.
27
“Mallory? Mallory, are you paying attention?”
I blink and my gaze focuses in on Nora, who’s sitting across from me. It’s Sunday night, and per our agreement, we’re having dinner together. I’m having a hard time focusing on her which I know is probably dangerous, but I can’t get Saint’s truths out of my head.
“Yeah, sorry,” I stammer.
She purses her lips and frowns, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Where’s your head tonight? I’d think this interaction and conversation would be of the highest priority to you.”
“It is,” I quickly assure her through gritted teeth. “Believe me. I know I’d be an idiot to let my guard down around you.”
Oddly enough, she seemed pleased by my words.
“That’s my smart girl. Trust nobody, and you might just survive this bullshit world.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I definitely don’t trust you.”
She chuckles, and I turned my focus back onto my food. I wasn’t hungry—I never really was during these bullshit dinners—but if I didn’t at least try to eat something when I was with her, I’d piss her off.
And I was not about to piss this vindictive psycho off.
When I’d first arrived to meet her, I’d worried she’d lay into me about Saint, but she hadn’t said a thing about him yet. I wonder if she even knows we’ve still been together. Well, except for Friday of course. And yesterday. In fact, I hadn’t heard from Saint since Gabe’s party, so maybe I was worried over nothing. Maybe he regretted telling me everything that he had, and we really were done this time.
“So, tell me, how’s school?” she asks, as if she’s a normal mom and this is a normal meal and not an interaction forced upon me with blackmail and threats of murder.
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug.
Her eyes latch onto me. “Just fine? Mallory, I expressed how important it is for you to do well in school, didn’t I?”
There’s a warning in her tone that I’d be an idiot not to heed.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I murmur, “Don’t worry. I’m still getting straight A’s.”
She gives me an almost relieved smile. “That’s excellent. I’m very proud of you.”
Horseshit, but I don’t argue the point. Instead, I contemplate asking her about Jenn. She hasn’t said a word about her all evening, and I’m getting a little anxious about it.
“Nora, when will I be able to see Momma again?” I ask, careful to keep my voice from sounding too demanding.
She doesn’t look up from her food. “Why do you need to see her?”
“I … I just would like to talk to her. Alone.”
It’s a bold request, but I hold my breath and wait for her response.
She glances up at me and shakes her head. “That won’t be possible.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Jenn’s off doing a task for me,” she answers flippantly. “She won’t be back for some time.”
I sense that she’s lying, but I’m too big a coward to call her on it. My mind begins to race, wondering if Jenn is okay. Fuck, is she even alive?
Did this bitch let her OD, or worse, kill her herself?
I want to demand answers, but I know I’ll only make it worse for Jenn and myself if I try to force Nora to reveal more than she’s willing to. She’s unstable and unpredictable, and I need to tread lightly when it comes to our interactions with each other.
Though I let the subject drop and am careful with my words the rest of the dinner, my anxiety burns. I pray she hasn’t hurt Jenn, but I also pray she doesn’t know about Saint and me.
If she can harm her only sister who’s sacrificed so much in order to help her plot her revenge, there’s no telling what she’ll do to a disobedient child who’s basically a stranger.
The next morning, I seriously consider just staying in my room and hiding for the entire day. Between Nora’s threatening presence and Saint’s startling revelations, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to focus on school. Since I can’t forget Nora’s warning to continue to keep up my academics, I begrudgingly get ready for the day and head for my door.
When I open it, I let out a surprised squeak.
Saint’s standing in the hallway, waiting for me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask breathlessly.
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Walking you to class. It’s our thing, Ellis.”
I almost point out that it certainly was not our thing on Friday, but I’m so relieved to see him that I don’t say a word.
“Okay.” I nod and gulp down the tightness in the back of my throat. “Let’s go.”