“Not yet, Mother,” I respond, but the annoyance is evident in my voice. I know she’s going to be angry with me, but at this stage, I no longer care.
“I was talking to Bradford, he’s such a lovely man. He suggested you could look at applying to Oxford,” she says, with a squeal in her voice, which is new. My mother’s never been the squeaky type, not like her friends.
“Like… the one in England?” Confusion causes my brows to crease. I wasn’t expecting her to say this, to even suggest me traveling on my own to another country, without her constant advice being whispered in my ear.
“Yes, England. Since Damien will be heading out there to set up the Thorne Corporation in London, you’ll have someone you know to be there for you. Having family close by will be nice.”
Of course, she has no clue to just what Damien is becoming to me because she’s still away. I can’t even explain what he means to me. But the thought of being in another country, away from his dad and my mom, sounds like heaven. Perhaps we’ll be able to find our solace there.
Hope springs in my chest, but I tamp it down immediately. I can’t think about the future with him when I don’t know what he’s thinking.
We haven’t had time alone since that night, but I need to sit him down and talk about feelings. Emotions. The exact things I’ve noticed he doesn’t like talking about.
“I’d like that,” I finally answer, realizing my mother’s probably waiting for me to respond. “I mean, yes, I’ll look at Oxford. Thanks, Mom.”
“Of course.” She’s silent for a moment and for the first time in a long while, I realize she’s being nice. She’s showing affection, even though it’s over the phone. And that’s new.
“I hope you’re having fun.”
“I am. Listen, when I get back, there’s something I need to tell you,” she says, in a hushed whisper. “It’s important, and now that you’re old enough, I think it’s best you know.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to wait until we get back,” she says. “I hope you enjoy your time with the boys. And behave yourself, don’t give them too much trouble.” Her admonishment comes after her affection, and if I had to be honest, it hurts.
For once, I’d just like my mother to tell me she’s proud of me. Or that she loves me. But that’s not who Marcia Ellington is. And a new last name clearly hasn’t changed the cold, aloof woman who’s my mother.
The line dies, and I blink back the tears. I’m old enough to know that people don’t change. They grow up in a certain way and allow whatever happens to them to mold who they become.
And my mother is nothing but a cold-hearted woman who never wanted a child. I know this because I heard her and my dad fighting one night before he died.
And I realize nothing is going to change her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Having Cass and Finn around yesterday was nice, but I miss Damien. I’ve thought about him non-stop since my mother’s call. Even though I’m anxious about what she wants to tell me, I’m focusing on going to Oxford. I need to get my application in and read up on the university, but I’m excited.
Sitting at my desk, I open my laptop and log in. Opening the browser, I pull up the websites I need and scroll through the information. I open another tab and check the travel time between London and Oxford.
Not bad.
If he agrees to allow me to travel with him, I don’t know what that would mean for us, but as soon as he gets back, I’m going to try to talk to him about it. I don’t want to come across as needy, but this is my future.
If that doesn’t involve him, I’d want to know sooner, rather than later.
Damien is different than any of the other guys I knew back home, and he’s vastly different from his brothers. I know he’s hiding his own pain, and even though he told me about the fight between him and Creed, I have a feeling there’s more that he’s hiding.
A knock on my door startles me. Pushing off the chair, I pad over to the door and pull it open to find Damien leaning against the opposite wall. He could’ve easily pushed his way into my bedroom, but he didn’t.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” he greets with his dark brow arched and those dimples peeking at me playfully. “Busy?” His blue eyes trail over me, from my messy bun all the way down to my black painted toenails. When he locks those baby blues on me and gifts me his sinful smirk, heat trickles its way over me like warmth from a blazing fire on a cold day.