“That’s not tr—”
“Yeah. It is. You assumed I’d be a rebel or a crazy nutjob just like my mom, and that’s how you treated me from the second I walked through your door.”
I was still speaking quietly, but my voice had hardened. I wasn’t sure why I was even bothering saying any of this to Jacqueline. As far as I was concerned, I was better off with her out of my life. But the words had been scratching at my heart for months, and letting them out felt good, even if they fell on deaf ears.
“I don’t know what happened with my mom, or why she acted the way she did. But I do know that if you treated her even close to the way you treated me, I’m not surprised she left and never came back. Maybe you could’ve helped her—maybe she needed help. But I guess we’ll never know now, will we?”
My grandmother’s features, already smoothed out by subtle plastic surgery, had seemed to pull even tighter as I spoke. Her eyelids flickered, but she didn’t even blink as she stared at me. “Your mother made her choice.”
“Yeah. The same choice I’m making. A life without you in it.”
A low mumble came from the head of the bed, and we both turned to stare at Philip again. He blinked slowly, his gaze slowly focusing on me. Then it shifted to Jacqueline, and I wasn’t sure if he could feel the bitter tension that hung in the air or just assumed it would be there, but worry crossed his features.
“Ah. Darling. You’re awake.”
Real warmth returned to my grandmother’s voice, and she rose to come stand beside his bed. I rose too, and for the next few minutes, Philip was the focus of both of our attention, though we stoically ignored each other.
I’d meant what I’d said. I was done with her. I could keep the peace around my grandfather for his sake, but I was done trying to prove something to Jacqueline that I’d never be able to convince her of anyway.
And I hadn’t told her the other reason I’d come back. The reason I’d been able to come back. That someone, some anonymous benefactor, had hired a top lawyer to come to Sand Valley and help me become both independent and self-sufficient.
As Jacqueline and I fussed over Philip, fluffing his pillow and asking how he felt, I had a strong feeling I was gazing down at the person who had arranged for my return.
Chapter 20
Over the next week, I visited Philip several more times. Usually Finn drove me, but once, Elijah insisted on doing it. I started actively trying to avoid coming when Jacqueline was there, which was difficult because she was there a lot. Whatever problems she had with the female members of her family, she was obviously very devoted to her husband. It was way too late for that to make me like her more though.
I kept trying to find a way to thank Philip for what I was more and more convinced he had done. But I wasn’t sure how to say the words. It was, in some ways, the literal least he could do, and just like his contact with me once I was back in Roseland, he’d done it all behind Jacqueline’s back.
That was the one part that still bugged me. He may have reached out to me, may have sent Erin to help me, but he’d never stood up to my grandma and told her she was wrong. It made every other positive gesture he’d made ring a little hollow.
But I didn’t mention any of that to him, because he was recovering from a fucking stroke and the last thing I wanted to do was stress his heart out anymore. So we played cards when I visited, or watched TV, or took wal
ks around the hospital. I saw his gaze land on Finn once when we were returning from a lap around the fifth floor, and I was sure he knew the boy had come with me. But he didn’t comment on it.
My grandfather was released from Roseland Medical at the end of the week, and I promised to come visit him at the house sometime—because fuck it, Jacqueline knew we were in contact now, and I wasn’t going to let her stop me.
I didn’t go to their house for Thanksgiving break though. It fell a week and a half after he got home from the hospital, and although Philip dropped subtle hints that maybe I could come by, it felt too… normal. Too much like a real family, which the three of us still definitely weren’t.
So instead, I hung out on the quiet Oak Park campus on Thursday, and Leah, Maggie, Dan, and I went to the beach on Friday. It was late November, so the weather wasn’t exactly warm, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to sit on the sand, listen to the waves, and watch the gulls careen overhead.
Leah and I had still been using Maggie—and sometimes Dan—as our buffers, but as we sat in the massive folding lounge chairs she’d brought, the two of them wandered off down the beach hand in hand. I realized with a start that I was actually alone with Leah for the first time in forever. Then I realized with another jolt of surprise that it actually didn’t feel weird.
It felt nice.
Comfortable.
Like old times.
She turned to me, her blue eyes shining bright in the sunlight. “Okay, real talk. What the hell is going on with you and the Princes?”
I dug my toes into the sand, working my way from the warm, dry grains near the top to the cooler lower layers. “I honestly don’t know. It feels like they’re trying to make amends for last year, but I don’t know if I trust it.”
“Good for you, girl. Be fucking skeptical.” She flipped her sunglasses down, raising her eyebrows at me.
“Yeah. I don’t know if I’ll ever be anything else when it comes to them. I mean, they spent a whole semester trying to convince me I was one of them, and it was all a lie. So I feel like, no matter how hard they try, I’ll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Well, Maggie had a point.” Leah shrugged. “At least this time, they’re letting you dictate the terms. I mean, Finn’s been driving you around like your fucking personal chauffeur. And you know they’ve been going after the kids who are still giving you a hard time, right?”