“Having a family changed her. I think I changed her first, if I’m honest. I’ve been wondering a lot lately, you know, if I broke her spirit—wanting to have a big family.”
My gaze flies to his. “I don’t understand.”
“She was this energetic, lively woman when I met her. And little by little, she dimmed. I don’t even know how much she noticed until the light was all but gone.”
“I always figured it was us.” My voice cracks slightly. “I assumed she didn’t like us, that maybe we didn’t turn out the way she hoped.”
Dad takes a deep breath, which he expels in a gust. “Your mom suffered a rough bout of postpartum depression after Kellan. Then we found out she was pregnant with Shane, and that seemed to help some. For a little while. Truth is, I don’t know if she wanted so many kids because I did, or if she hoped the next one might snap her out of it. The next one would come along and fix her.” He glances at me, full of remorse and sadness. “When she had Craig, something changed. The depression didn’t come. Whatever hormones or chemicals are supposed to kick in that help women bond with the infant—well, it finally happened. And that only made her feel guiltier. She’d tried so damn hard to bond with the rest of you and was constantly fighting the depression, the dark thoughts, and then with Craig it was suddenly easy, and—”
He exhales a ragged breath, gaze still fixed on the road ahead. By the time he speaks again, I’m holding my breath. On pins and needles.
“Christ, Gen, you have no idea how much it ripped her apart, having that easy relationship with him when her relationships with the rest of you were so difficult. Her greatest fear was being a bad mom, and it crippled her. She couldn’t get past the idea she was screwing you kids up. I don’t know everything that went on in Laurie’s head, but you’ve got to understand it wasn’t her fault. Whatever it is, you know. The chemicals in her brain or whatever. She hated herself the most.”
My eyes feel hot, stinging. I never thought about it that way. It wasn’t something we talked about in our family. It felt like she hated us, so that was the truth we believed. Or I did, at least. Not once did it occur to me it was an illness, something she was incapable of controlling and even ashamed of. It must have felt so much easier for her to stop trying, to back away from the fear of breaking her kids. But, God, how much we all suffered for it.
Nothing changes our childhood, the years lost without a mother. The pain and torment of growing up believing that the act of being born, a decision we had no part in, was the reason she hated us. But Dad’s pained confession, this new, sad piece of knowledge, changes a lot of how I feel about her now. How I look back on her.
And how I look at myself.
CHAPTER 29
EVAN
There’s something in the air. I’ve got a crew at a storm-damaged house we’re renovating for a flipper, and since lunch, the guys have been acting weird. I keep catching furtive glances and whispered conversations. People going silent when I walk into a room, yet feeling their eyes, everywhere, watching me. It’s creepy is what it is. The scene before the pod people turn in unison and descend to assimilate their hapless target. Swear to God, if anything tries to probe me or vomit down my throat, I’m swinging a sledgehammer and aiming for nut sacks.
In the second-floor master bath, I catch my shift chief, Alex, hunched over a phone with the guy who’s supposed to be installing the new tub.
“Grady, I’m pretty sure you billed us for something like thirty hours of overtime on that Poppy Hill job,” I say loudly, and the tub guy startles and drops his phone into his pocket. “How do you figure Levi’s gonna react when I tell him you’re up here standing around on your phone with your dick in your hand?”
“I got you, boss. No problems. Gonna have all this …” Grady gestures at the tub, sink, and toilet left to install. “Gonna get it wrapped by today. Don’t worry.”
Amazing how agreeable people become when your name is on their paychecks.
To my shift chief, a young guy I vouched for to get this job, I give a nod to follow me down the hall. Alex and I step into one of the empty bedrooms, where I narrow my eyes. “What the hell is going on with everyone today?”
He hesitates to answer, taking off his baseball cap to scratch his head and then adjust and readjust it, hoping perhaps I might forget my question in the meantime. It sets my teeth on edge.
“What is it, for chrissake?” I demand.
“Yeah, um, so …” Oh, for the love of God. “Well, word is Genevieve got arrested. For like cocaine or something.”
“What?” A cold tide rushes through my limbs. “When?”
“Last night. I mean, the rumor is she was caught moving a kilo of coke to an undercover agent on the boardwalk, but that’s just talk. The way I heard it from my cousin who was working barback last night, some cop came in and found drugs in her purse, only she was telling him it wasn’t her purse. Anyway, that girl Trina was looking for her a little while after that.”
Damn it.
“We weren’t sure you heard,” Alex continues. “So the guys—”
“Yeah, fine.” I wave him off. “Just get back to work. And tell them to put their damn phones away. Nobody’s getting overtime for screwing around.”
Trina.
Of course.
I should have seen this coming. I know as well as anyone the shit that girl gets up to. Anger burns my throat, most of it self-directed. What part of driving Gen toward her did I think would end any other way? Especially with Deputy Randall skulking around trying to pin something on Gen. If I’d given even a single thought to Genevieve’s best interest instead of my own, I would’ve seen this coming.
Fuck.
No wonder she ran away from me. This turn of events was so predictable, Gen tried everything short of beating me back with a baseball bat to keep me away from her. And as it turns out, with all my efforts to prove she was overreacting and that nothing bad would come of us being together, I proved her right the first chance I got. I was so wrapped up in pleading my case, changing her mind, that I didn’t give a single thought to the repercussions if it went badly.
What kind of asshole is so damn selfish?
This isn’t a minor consequence either. Gen was cuffed. Probably perp walked out of the bar in front of half the town and a hundred tourists. Paraded through the police station and degraded by the same jerks who’ve been telling her she was no good her whole life. She must have been tearing out of her skin.
And I put her there.
I spent all this time trying to convince her that I’d be good for her and make her life better. What a goddamn joke.
It’s hours before I can leave the jobsite to see Gen. Throughout the day I agonized over whether to call her, but eventually decided having this conversation over the phone was more insulting than waiting to do it in person. Or maybe I’m a coward who hoped the delay would help me figure out what to say to her.
As I’m pulling up to her house, I’m still at a loss.
Gen’s little brother Craig answers the door. With a knowing look that says good luck, he nods upstairs.
“She’s in her room.”
I knock a couple times, then let myself in when there’s no answer. Gen’s asleep on her bed in pajamas and a bathrobe, hair still wet. The largest part of me wants to leave. Let her sleep. The longer I can put this off, the more time I have to come up with something sufficient to say. But then she opens her eyes to find me standing in the doorway.