Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 40
Paige
The visit is short. Emma remains attached to Mom once I tell her I can’t return to the house with her. I wonder how long Emma has been in the house by herself. I speak with the nurse, and she tells me that Dad was admitted yesterday. He’s expected to leave in a day or two.
And not because he’s getting better.
“He should be on hospice,” she says. I notice the way she looks at me, as if I haven’t been here the entire time. I want to shout and tell them they’re wrong. I have been here and still would have been here if it wasn’t for Andrei.
I sit in a chair away from the bed while Emma sits by the bed with Mom by her side.
Maybe this is better, I tell myself.
But the truth is I want to leave the hospital. I want to return to the mansion because I didn’t realize how tired I was until I saw my family again. I want someone to care for me and give a shit about my needs. I want someone to give a shit over whether I live or die.
Not because they need me to take care of them, but because they want me.
It’s selfish, I know. But I want someone to remind me that I matter.
My phone chimes with a message from Andrei, asking how it’s going.
Should I be offended that he’s checking up on me? I’m not. I’m glad that he wants to know where I am. That he might actually miss me. I want him to care.
I shoot off a response to him that things are fine and that I’ll be leaving soon. I glance up and see Emma watching me.
“Are you leaving now?” she asks in a small voice that jabs at my heart.
“I am.” I nod. “We’ll talk soon, but not here.”
I avoid my mother’s gaze as her words tumble out of my mouth. It’s not the same. It can’t be the same. My gaze meets hers, and instead of snarky triumph, all I see is concern.
The look startles me. Does Mom know?
***
Emma stays behind with Dad while Mom walks me out to my waiting car. I recognize my guards in the corridor, mingling as we pass and trying to blend into the background, but that’s difficult in their dark designer suits.
The air smells fresh once we step outside, and the heat swarms around me as June slowly turns into July. Oleg sits in the Rover, and Mom places her hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
“What happened to your wrist?” she asks.
I can’t look her in the eye. “Nothing, I banged it against a table. It’s better now.” Talia’s nails left their telltale mark: four angry red crescents are evenly spaced where she broke the skin.
Mom glances at the idling Rover warily, her chest rising and falling rapidly at the sight.
“Paige.” Her expression sparks the voice in my head. She must know. “Promise that you’ll meet me.”
“I’ll be there.” My voice hitches, and I sound like a child again. “I took care of them both. But things changed, and I couldn’t be there this past month. I can’t talk about it now.”
She hesitates, then turns her back to the Rover and Oleg’s curious gaze.
“I understand.” Mom lowers her voice. “Your father should have told you. Be careful, Paige. We’ll talk on Tuesday.”
Mom pulls me into a tight hug that feels like it might last forever. And suddenly, it hits me. I did miss her. For ten years, I’ve missed her. Good memories overshadow the bad ones, and I can only remember when she held me and told me not to cry.
She promised to look after me.
“May I give you a kiss?” she whispers.
I nod because I cannot speak. I lower my head so she can reach my cheek. My eyes close as her lips touch my skin, and I will myself not to cry.
I’m not ready to tell her I forgive her, although I already have.
“I love you, Paige.” She trembles, sniffling, and her voice grows thick and husky. “I’ve never stopped loving you and your sister.”
“I know,” I reply as I turn away from her.
Oleg says nothing as I hurriedly jump into the jeep. Mom stands at the entrance watching us pull away, and I’m thankful that the second jeep is a discreet distance away. I would’ve gone back inside if the guards weren’t here. I would have told Mom what happened out of earshot of Dad and Emma.
I would have told her everything and then asked her if she was in trouble too.
Maybe Mom had to leave. And, like me, she might have had no choice, and someone took it away.
Andrei may not have intended it, but his actions may have built a bridge back to my past.
And I could’ve run. The hospital was big enough to hide in. But I didn’t because Andrei would hunt me down to the ends of this earth. I would be angry if he didn’t.
And then the awful truth settles in my stomach: I didn’t want to stay.
I look at his message on my phone and can’t help but smile.
