Broken and Screwed 2 (BS #2)

He sucked in his breath. His jaw clenched.

I couldn’t watch any longer. I knew what was going to happen. My father wouldn’t listen. He had rallied for her, not for me. He had kept her from falling apart, but he cut me loose because of that. No matter the change of heart in my mother, if it was real or not, wouldn’t matter.

“It’s okay, Dad.”

He turned to me, searching my eyes. I tried to lift the corners of my mouth. “I’m cutting you loose. You don’t have any obligations to me.” Jesse pulled at my hand. He was trying to get my attention. I ignored him. “You can do whatever you want. I’ll contact the lawyers and clear whatever it is with them. After that, you don’t have to see me again.”

His shoulders dropped. He was relieved. He was f**king relieved that he didn’t have to see his daughter anymore.

My mother stood. She’d lost weight. She had weighed one hundred and thirty pounds before, but she looked about a hundred and ten, maybe only a hundred pounds even. She wore a shawl over a cashmere sweater and jeans. My mother looked like someone Tiffany would’ve loved to have as a mom. I glanced over, wondering if she was looking at an older version of herself, but I saw tears instead. That made me pause. Why was Tiffany crying? I assumed they would’ve loved this. My own parents loathed me. That was right up her alley. She could use that for years to torture me.

“I’m glad that you are in Jesse’s life,” my mother started, but stopped as my father stormed from the room. The door swung shut behind him and we watched as he went to their car. Getting inside, he turned the car on, but it didn’t move. He was waiting for my mother. They were leaving. Again.

Her shoulders lifted for a deep breath. There was so much pain in her eyes. It struck my own, bringing tears to mine, but I wouldn’t shed them. Not for her. She took a step towards me, but I moved away. She stopped. Her head hung down. “I am sorry about how your father and I have behaved. I know that I cannot ask for your forgiveness—”

“Because you don’t want it,” I cut in. I saw it was true.

Shame flashed in her gaze. She didn’t mask it. It remained as she nodded. “You’re right, Alexandra. I don’t want your forgiveness, because I don’t deserve it. There is no excuse for what we have done to you. You didn’t do anything wrong. There was no reason for us to leave you. I want you to know that.”

The tears slid down my cheeks now. Then why did they? Why did she?

She turned to Jesse, “Have you told her?”

He shook his head. His entire body tensed at the question.

“You can, if you’d like.”

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

“Oh.” My mother frowned. “So you’ve had contact with her?”

He jerked his head in a nod. He pulled his hand from me and moved away, avoiding my gaze.

“Oh.”

My mind was reeling. Her? Secret? This was it—the secret Jesse had been holding back from me. Every sense in me was tingling. My secret was out. It was his turn. He had to tell me.

My mother looked torn, like she wanted to ask something more of him. Jesse cast a wary glance at her. He shook his head. “Don’t. After what you did, you can’t ask that from her.” He looked at me. “And after what you’ve done to Alex, you don’t deserve to see her.”

My mother seemed to crumble before my eyes. The momentary kindness she had shown me was gone. Even her coldness was gone. She looked broken instead, just like me. She nodded to herself and left. No one said goodbye. No one followed her to the door. She paused there and looked over once more. Her eyes caught mine. I stiffened, pain searing me again, but I didn’t look away. I wanted to, but I held firm. She said, “Losing your brother changed our family. I am sorry for my part. I know that I’ve not been a good mother, but I lost that ability when I lost Ethan. He was my first baby and—” She cut off, her voice shaking from emotion. “There’s no excuse. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, Alexandra. You’ve become so beautiful. Do you know that?”

I swallowed over a lump. She thought I was beautiful?

“So beautiful,” she whispered to herself as she left. The door closed behind her, leaving the room in a shocked silence.

I was beautiful? I never thought of myself as beautiful.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I was reeling from everything that had happened. Somehow, I ended up in a bathroom with Tiffany. She pressed cool washcloths to my face. For what, I wasn’t sure, but she was being nice. I frowned as she patted my forehead. “Why are you being nice to me?” Then I remembered she’d been crying out there. Why the tears? Did Tiffany Chatsworth actually have a heart? This wasn’t foreseeable.