The Love Trap by Nicole French

17

Present

“Mrs. Lefferts, you can stay here if you like. We have rooms in the main house too, but Brandon and I thought that you and Ms. Lee would be more comfortable here.”

Four nervous Korean women followed Skylar around the spacious guest house on her Brookline property. Yu-na, her cousin Ji-yeon and her daughter, Suejean, and Jane.

They resembled a queue of chickens, eyes dancing nervously around the deceptively airy space. Eric hung back in the doorway, watching the strange procession. Yu-na and the cousins spread out slowly. Jane stuck close to Skylar, hugging her friend’s side, Eric noted with envy, instead of his.

His wife had barely touched him in three weeks. Not since the hospital and those first terrible moments when he’d found her in that dingy house in Hwaseong. She’d clung to him then like those moments might have been her last. And they might have been. The doctors, both in Suwon and at home, had said as much.

Eric rubbed his inner arm. He was still angry that he hadn’t been allowed to donate blood. A year—a fucking year!—you had to live in the country before the Korean Red Cross would allow it, on top of a bunch of other requirements. It was only by a stroke of luck that they ended up finding a few extra pints at a blood bank in Singapore that had cost Eric a fucking mortgage payment to transport to Suwon. He would have emptied his entire account to do it. Eric had been two seconds from sticking a needle directly from his arm into hers if they hadn’t found something.

Now that she was nearly back to normal, she’d shrunk away. He noticed it first after they left Mount Sinai and Skylar returned to Boston. She slept for most of the day, keeping to her bed while her mother listlessly roamed their apartment. Until today, neither of them had left it once in two weeks.

Eric had done his best to give her what she needed. He managed to do half his work for DVS from the confines of their apartment and had slept quietly next to her, rising when she did, waiting for her to reach out for him.

Except she never did.

It went both ways, really. They were interacting as if both of them were covered in jagged edges that could slice the other open. Or even hurt themselves. They operated with cordiality. Kindness. But always at an arm’s length.

Maybe this was what she needed. A check-in with family. With Skylar. A change of scenery.

Eric wasn’t sure what else he could do.

Ji-yeon and Suejean explored the two-bedroom cottage with the asserted interest that was characteristic of Jane’s entire family, from what Eric could tell. They chatted about the practicalities of the space—whether the kitchen had enough counter space for a rice cooker and an Instant Pot or if the closets had enough room for a full-size shoe rack. Ji-yeon said she was only planning to stay in Boston for two weeks, but her two giant suitcases suggested she might be there longer. Eric was okay with that. If Yu-na had company here in Boston, maybe it would be easier to coax Jane back to the city with him.

Because the main problem was Jane’s guilt. And Yu-na was very good at pressing that particular button.

It had taken Yu-na exactly one week to say in no uncertain terms that she was not staying in New York. She didn’t feel safe there, she said. Everything was too crowded. Too many streets for people to hide in. Too many alleys for people to jump out of. Too many people who could take her away.

Eric couldn’t lie—he was ready for his mother-in-law to leave, even if it meant sending an entire battalion of security with her. But Jane, who seemed to be scared of her own shadow these days, had fought the idea of her mother returning to Chicago. For every reason Yu-na gave, Jane had an answer. Wasn’t she accosted in Chicago, not New York? And just outside of her old suburban home? Weren’t she and Jane sequestered in a small farmhouse next to a bunch of rice paddies, not apartment buildings?

And so, when Skylar offered the guest house just steps from her private security gate, sheltered behind the tall stone walls of the Crosby-Sterlings’ Brookline compound, it seemed like the perfect solution. Ji-yeon would meet Yu-na there for a few weeks, and after that, Skylar’s grandmother would probably suffocate Yu-na with blintzes. Brandon’s mother wasn’t exactly inhospitable either. They’d all learned about Yu-na’s plight and wouldn’t leave her alone for a second.

“You know there’s room for you too,” Skylar said quietly to Jane.

Eric had to concentrate not to glare at Skylar. He was already worried that Jane wouldn’t leave her mother, and the fact that she had brought her own house-sized suitcase didn’t soothe his suspicions. Say no, he willed Jane. Say you need to come home. With me. Did you forget what we are? Did you forget that I’m the love of your fucking life?

But Jane just watched her mother touch a finger to the mantle over the blazing stone fireplace, then looked out the window toward the big house and the orchard. It was pretty idyllic.

“Jane can stay?” Yu-na demanded. Good Christ, the woman had the hearing of a bat. “How many rooms?”

Eric stifled a scowl. No, she can’t fucking stay, he wanted to snap. The truth was, he was heartily sick of his mother-in-law. He realized he could take Yu-na in small doses, but he was getting very, very tired of the way she demanded Jane’s time and energy with no apparent gratitude. He understood they were both recovering from the trauma of their abduction—yes, he definitely understood that—but Jane was the one who had been through a legitimate medical emergency. Yu-na’s detox had been difficult, but she had rebounded much faster than her daughter. She had also been no fucking help after they returned to New York. And now here was Yu-na, asking more of her daughter. For herself.

“There isn’t enough room in here,” Eric said. “Not with Ji-yeon here, right, Skylar?”

Everyone turned to him, and Jane’s gaze was particularly sharp.

“There is in the house,” Skylar offered, though she looked uneasy about it. Yeah, she knew exactly what Eric was thinking. “Anytime she likes. We have a spare room just for Jane. And you, of course, Eric.”

“We have an apartment too,” Eric put in. “In the North End.” He knocked on the walls, like they were somehow lacking. “If we need to stay in Boston, we can go there.”

But Jane’s grimace made it clear what she thought of that. Hell, even he didn’t like the idea. Aside from the fact that they’d be sitting ducks in that place (there was no security other than the elderly doorman), there was also the fact that it was just…pre-Jane. To him, and probably to her, the cold modern edges of his old apartment represented a life that deep inside, Jane was scared Eric wanted back. A bachelor’s existence, devoid of intimacy, but still full of women.

He made a mental note to sell it as soon as possible. He wanted nothing to do with that life anymore. He only wanted Jane.

“There are two bedrooms in here,” Yu-na protested. “Jane and I can share a bed, just like we did when she was a girl. She can be with her mother where she belongs while she heals.”

What about with her husband? Eric was practically seething at this point. He wanted to scream, yell, shove the tiny, square-shaped woman out the door. Two weeks—two weeks she’d been butting in on their lives, interrupting those moments where he and Jane should have been reconnecting. Calling out in the middle of the night like a baby. Forcing Eric to spend half his nights alone, staring at the ceiling.

Her daughter was a grown fucking woman. She didn’t need to be sleeping in a bed with her mother, of all people.

“Eomma, that other room is for Ji-yeon. And we are absolutely not sharing a room,” Jane said, to Eric’s intense relief. “You’re staying out here, okay? We need a little space.”

Was it wrong that Eric wanted to throw his fist in the air in victory?

But Yu-na wasn’t finished.

“Space? What is this space? Space is why we ended up in Korea like we did. A daughter should be with her mother.” Yu-na looked around the room, like she was expecting fucking applause. When her gaze landed back on Jane, she was practically triumphant. “You want to sleep at the big house, fine. But I want you to stay here. Family should be together.”

What about my family? Eric wanted to snap back. God, the woman made him want to tear his hair out.

“Jane?” Yu-na’s hands perched on her hips while she waited impatiently for her daughter’s answer.

Jane sighed, and fatigue enshrouded her thin body like a cape. She drooped against the wall. Her face was still frail, thinner than it should be, and behind her thick black glasses, her eyes shone with fear and vulnerability. No bravado. No punch. So damn different than the woman he knew. Eric wanted to pick her up and carry her away from the tiny tyrant, away from everyone putting that look on her face.

Behind her, Ji-yeon and Suejean had peeked out of the bedroom to witness the exchange. It was plain on both of their faces what they thought she should do. Skylar rubbed Jane’s arm sympathetically. Jane wilted toward her.

He had lost, Eric realized. Before anyone said anything.

“Lunch?” Jane asked weakly.

Skylar smiled kindly. “Of course, Janey. Susan came over last night and made a few extra roasted chickens with dinner. Why don’t we eat, and then everyone can get settled in.”

* * *

They walked backto the main house through the snow, where Brandon and the four kids—Annabelle, Christoph, Jenny, and Luis—were building a snowman. That basically consisted of Annabelle bossing everyone around, Christoph pointing out the deficiencies of her plans, Jenny trying and failing to roll as many giant snowballs as possible, and Luis screeching with joy every time he stuck his hands in the snow. Frequently, one of them would hurl a snowball at Brandon, who would retaliate swiftly, to their delight. And every so often, Luis toddled out to the driveaway on his chubby, two-year-old legs, causing his father to jog after him, swing him up into the air, and redeposit him in the yard with the other kids.

The children’s laughter echoed around the park-like property. Everyone else smiled. Eric looked at Jane, who avoided eye contact. Behind her lenses, her eyes shone like she wanted to cry.

Fuck.

Is this what it would have been like? Eric wondered. Would their baby have been chubby like Luis? Would they have had snowball fights in Central Park next winter? Taught their kid to make snow angels the year after?

The idea pricked his eyes like needles. Eric looked away from the scene. This was the wrong place to be. Couldn’t she see that? They needed time alone. Time together. Time to heal.

Jane wrapped her arms around her waist, like she too was thinking of what had been stolen from her. It was so easy, Eric knew. It happened to him all the time. A taste, a scent, a brief image. Something would bring that violation to the forefront of his mind, and like a knife, it stabbed.

Jane finally looked up to find Eric watching her, and her big, expressive eyes seemed to water even more despite the raucous laughter around them. She knew what he was thinking. She knew the loss he heard in those tinkling shouts. She knew because she heard it too.

But before Eric could approach her, use that connection to build something better, Jane turned away. Eric stopped. He didn’t know what else to do.

“Are we ready to eat?” he asked, unable to take one more of this Norman Rockwell-level moment.

“I think so,” Skylar said. “Shall we?”

Eric just watched Jane. At last, she nodded. His chest sagged with relief. Jane had been subsisting on little more than instant ramen for the last two weeks. Just a few days ago, her doctor had expressed concern that she wasn’t gaining enough back after her ordeal, but she’d batted away his reminders like flies.

And with that, their sad, strange procession continued inside.