The deep scrape of his voice sends a shiver careening through me.
When another heavy silence blankets us, I force myself to ask, “For how long?”
It’s strange to think of Kingsley sitting in the corner, staring at me while I’ve been oblivious to his presence. As more light floods into the room, his facial features take shape and I’m able to see the deep purple bruises that decorate the delicate skin beneath his eyes.
“All night.”
The admittance comes as something of a surprise. “You slept in the chair?”
He shakes his head and drags a hand down his face. “No, I didn’t sleep.”
I swallow down the guilt as my gaze fastens on to the window that stretches from the floor to the ceiling and the trees that dot the background beyond it. “I’m sorry about the baby.”
The apology is bitter and tastes like ashes on my tongue. Before I can say anything more, Kingsley hurtles out of the chair and lands on the bed. He drags me into his arms, crushing me against the steely strength of his chest until every molecule of air has been wrung from my body and there is nothing left inside.
No emotion.
No life.
Just an empty carcass in place of the person I once was.
Wetness treks down my cheeks as I bury my face in the hollow of his neck and breathe him in. The familiar scent of his woodsy cologne wraps around me, filling me with solace. One by one, my muscles loosen as I melt into him. We cling like two survivors of a storm that will never stop raging.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” His lips brush over the top of my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“How do you know? Maybe it happened because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep this baby.” Grief and guilt stab at my heart. It’s like a thousand tiny slashes that leave anguish behind in its place.
His grip tightens as his voice turns gruff. “You heard what the doctor said. The pregnancy was in its early stages. Most women don’t realize they’re expecting at that point.” There’s a beat of silence before he adds softly, “We both know it’s not possible to will away a pregnancy.”
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I acknowledge the truth of what he’s saying, but it still feels as if my indecision set this ugly chain of events into motion. As if the choice was ripped away from me because of my confusion.
Kingsley untangles himself from me until he’s able to meet my gaze. I’m struck by the realization that the somber boy now staring at me does not resemble the lighthearted one I met at the beach in June. It’s like they aren’t even the same person. Then again, maybe I’m not the same girl he met either. It’s as if we have crammed years of living into a few brief months. And we’re both exhausted by it.
When Kingsley clears his throat, I shove those depressing thoughts to the back of my mind. “I had a conversation with my father last night.”
The air gets wedged in my throat as I steel myself for the inevitable bomb he’s about to drop.
“I convinced him to void the contract between our families.”
My brows jerk together. “What does that mean?”
Any emotion that had seeped into his voice disappears. “You’ll no longer be forced into marriage and your family will keep ownership of Hawthorne Industries.”
“Why?” The idea of Keaton performing a complete one eighty makes little sense. The revenge he sought against my family has been all-consuming and now, for some unknown reason, he’s willing to drop it and move on?
Kingsley stares out the window before jerking his shoulders. “I think we can all agree that there’s been enough pain and loss to last a lifetime. Several of them. I don’t think any of us can stomach more.”
Sorrow rushes in, flooding every cell in my body. The price that has been extracted is higher than any of us could have ever imagined.
“Dad’s lawyers have drawn up new documents for your mother to sign that will split Hawthorne Industries evenly between our families.”
“What about everything that was stolen from your ancestors? Your father is willing to let eighty years of lost profits and interest go unpaid?” I may not know Keaton well, but from everything I’ve witnessed, this seems completely out of character.
Kingsley swipes his tongue across his front teeth as if carefully considering how to answer the question. “I won’t lie, it took convincing on my part.” I glimpse a flatness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Exhaustion and defeat creep in at the edges. “I can’t do this anymore. It needs to be over so we can move on.”
His words are like a punch to the gut and I find myself unable to suck fresh oxygen into my lungs. My heart constricts as if his fist has tightened around it, wringing the very life from me. Maybe he has chosen not to give voice to his thoughts, but I hear them loud and clear.
The loss of our baby is my fault. No matter what I do or where I go, it’s a guilt I will always carry around with me.
Before I can offer another apology, he continues, voice devoid of emotion. “Mrs. Fieber packed up your belongings. As soon as your ready, I’ll take you home.”
My mouth turns cottony as my heart beats a painful staccato. In the silence of the room, my thickly whispered voice is deafening. “That’s it then?”
“Yeah.” Emotion flickers across his face before it’s snuffed out. It’s there and gone before I can figure out what it meant.
I glance away, blinking back the wetness that pricks the back of my eyelids. Grief and sorrow fill me, which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. Why am I upset by this? It’s exactly what I wanted. Even though I had feelings for Kingsley, I didn’t want to be forced into a relationship or marriage. I fought for the right to choose.
And now I have it. I’ve been magically released from the shackles of this contract.
From the suffocating hold Keaton had on me.
This is amazing news.
So...why doesn’t it feel like it?
Chapter Thirty-Six
With my suitcase in tow, I stand in front of the entrance to the house that once belonged to my grandmother. As I reach for the handle, it’s ripped open and my mother hovers impatiently on the other side of the threshold with tears shining in her eyes. Her hand snakes out before yanking me into her arms, crushing me against her thin form. If I’ve lost weight gradually over the last couple of months, her loss has been more dramatic in a matter of weeks.
My arms slip around her slender frame, squeezing her tight, as if I’ll never let go. As confused as I am about how life has unfolded in the last twenty-four hours, it’s a relief to be with her. Ironically, this place didn’t feel like home even a couple of short weeks ago, and now...
I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
“Oh, Summer!” she whispers, thick emotion overpowering her voice, making it wobbly. “Why didn’t you tell me about the pregnancy?”
My body wilts against hers. It’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the atmosphere, making it impossible to breathe. Humiliation licks at my cheeks. I hate that she knows about this. It feels like a shameful secret that needs to be forced into the shadows.
“I couldn’t.” I’m embarrassed that I didn’t do a better job of protecting myself. That I was stupid to assume that condoms would be sufficient.
She pulls away enough to search my eyes. “There’s nothing you can’t tell me.” She pauses before adding, “Ever!”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, I’m the one who’s sorry! I was so consumed by my grief that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for letting you down.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” I draw in a deep breath, attempting to steady all the emotions that riot painfully in my chest. Once it’s all locked down tight, I release it back into the world. “It happened, and I dealt with the situation the best I could.”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip as a
tear treks down her face. She pulls me back into her arms for another bone-crushing embrace. “It’s a relief to have you home where you belong. Thank God this nightmare is finally over.”
“Is it?” I ask, disbelief tinging my voice. “Is it over?”
Since we first received word about Grandma Rose’s death, our lives have been turned upside down and inside out. Every time I assumed it couldn’t get worse, somehow it did. It was like a Greek tragedy being acted out. And now...
Now it’s really over?
The curse that had fallen over our family has finally been lifted?
“Early this morning, Keaton delivered copies of the voided contracts along with new ones that divide Hawthorne Industries evenly between our families. I took a cursory glance at the paperwork and he’s agreed not to go after restitution for what his family was cheated out of decades ago. I’m sending the documents to our lawyers to go over, but everything seems to be in order.”
Her verification of the information feels like an enormous weight lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in weeks, I can inhale a full breath. No longer am I being crushed to the ground by expectation and forced demands.
It’s almost too much to take in and process. “What happens now?”
Even when she takes a step in retreat, her arm stays wrapped around my waist as if she can’t bear the thought of releasing me. “I’m not sure yet, but I was thinking we could go back to Chicago.” She glances away before blinking the moisture out of her eyes. “With your father gone, there’s nothing left to keep us here. I don’t want anything to do with that miserable company. Keaton offered to take over the day-to-day operations. And I’m considering it.”
Did I hear her correctly?
“Do you trust him?” Because I sure as hell don’t.
“What does it matter?” Her eyes grow distant, as if swamped by memories. “The whole point of this move was to make a new life together, a better one for our family.”
A thick lump settles in the middle of my throat, making it impossible to swallow. None of us could have predicted this outcome. The very fabric of our family has unraveled. Dad is gone and the three of us have been left behind to pick up the tattered pieces.
As if that’s even possible.
“I emailed my old boss, Terry, and asked if I could get my job back. We have a telephone conference set up for tomorrow to discuss the possibilities.”
My mind spins as I try to absorb all the changes that are happening. When we moved here in August, what I wanted most was to return to my old life.
And now it’s over. We can finally leave this hellhole behind.
So why aren’t I jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs like I just won the lottery?
Instead, I feel numb inside. There’s a giant void where my emotions should be.
Mom strokes her fingers through my hair, drawing my attention back to her. “What do you think about that?”
I hoist my lips into a weak smile, tamping down the confusion that churns through me. “It sounds good.”
“Putting everything behind us and starting fresh is exactly what the three of us need.”
When I nod, she draws me to her again before pressing a kiss against the side of my face. “I’m glad your home.”
“Me, too.”
That, at the very least, is the unvarnished truth.
Everything else?
I’m not so sure about. And somehow, that realization is just as disconcerting.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The light rap of knuckles against my door has me springing to attention. For a fleeting moment, my heart trips at the possibility that Kingsley stands on the other side of the thick wood. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I was ushered out of Rothchild Mansion two days ago. It never occurred to me that I could miss him so fiercely. It’s almost as if there is a piece of me missing. The air stalls in my lungs as the door swings open.
“Hey.” Austin peeks his head around the corner, hovering over the threshold as if he’s a vampire in need of an invitation. When I fail to respond, he asks, “You doing okay?”
Stupid as it is, disappointment rushes in from every corner until I could drown in it. I hoist my smile, unwilling to cause him any more distress. “Yup, I’m fine. No need for concern.”
He shrugs, carefully inching his way into the room as if my grief is contagious. “Can’t help it. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” I say, brushing off his discomfort. “I’m fine. Couldn’t be better.”
That’s a lie, but there’s nothing my brother can say or do that will change it, so the truth is better left unsaid. This is something I need to work through on my own. No one can help me with it. As difficult as it is for them, they can only sit by and watch me flounder.
“You haven’t left your room in days.” Anxiety flickers in his eyes as they search over me, looking for obvious wounds. Luckily—or maybe unluckily—they’re all on the inside, away from prying eyes.
The only emotion my brother knows how to emit is anger. He’s never been the touchy-feely type. So him being here, checking on me, speaks volumes.
“Did Mom tell you that we might move back?” he asks, sidling closer to the bed before gingerly settling at the end. As he does, the mattress sinks beneath his heavy weight.
“She mentioned it the other day.”
“Guess she had the phone conference and her boss said the position is hers if she wants it.” He tilts his head, carefully assessing my reaction. “What do you think about that?”
It’s bizarre he even has to ask the question. Stranger still, there isn’t a ready answer tripping off my tongue. The decision to leave Hawthorne should be a no-brainer. Our bags should be packed and our return to Chicago imminent. And yet, here I am, conflicted about the decision. The thought of walking away from Kingsley sends a hot rush of pain flooding through my entire being. The sensation of not being able to breathe takes hold. As if I’m being choked from the inside out.
“I’m not sure,” I force myself to admit. I’m almost afraid of Austin’s response. He’s been gunning to leave Hawthorne since day one.
It’s a surprise when he confesses the same. “Me, neither.” His broad shoulders collapse as uncertainty flickers across his expression. “Is it weird that I can’t remember what life was like a couple of months ago?”
A mirthless chuckle escapes from my lips. “Not really. In a strange way, it’s like we’ve lived here forever.”
“And most of it has sucked ass.” One side of his mouth hitches with reluctant humor.
“Yup,” I agree, “it has.” No other period of my life has been riddled with so many traumatic experiences. I should want to put them behind me and move forward.
His brows beetle together as if my answer is just as startling. “You’re not sure you want to leave?”
I shake my head as a slight smile lifts my lips. “That’s totally messed up, right?”
He plows a hand through his hair. “Probably.”
“I thought you would be ecstatic to get the hell out of here.”
“I know.” He shifts his body toward me, looking as perplexed by the revelation as I am. “Have you ever heard the old saying—you can’t go home again?”
I jerk my head into a tight nod as my belly prickles with unease. “Yeah.”
“In a weird way, it feels similar.” Sadness and bewilderment flicker across his face as he stares at his entwined fingers. “Too much has happened, and it feels like no matter how much we try, nothing will ever be the same again.”
As painful as the admittance is, he might be right. Returning to Chicago won’t bring our father back. It won’t wipe away the grief and sadness that make up my entire being. And it won’t erase my feelings for Kingsley.
But is staying in Hawthorne the answer?
It’s a complicated question without a solution.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
&nb
sp; Later that evening, I lie in bed and stare sightlessly at the ceiling. No matter how hard I try, sleep evades me. I toss and turn, my mind filled with chaos. Questions that don’t have obvious answers. Grief that has no immediate outlet.
Unable to stand another moment, I throw off the covers and jump from bed. I pull on a sweatshirt and leggings before grabbing the afghan that has been tossed over the back of the chair in the corner and beeline to the patio door.
I’m going to the only place that has any chance of soothing my soul.
As soon as my bare feet hit the deck, the crisp breeze slaps at my cheeks, instantly cooling them. The scent of fresh pine and dried leaves that carpet the ground drift on the air. For a moment, I shutter my eyes and inhale deeply, allowing the scent to work its way through my body. Once it’s released back into the world, I close the door, ready to escape the stifling confines of the house. From the corner of my eye, a sleek black object catches my attention and I ground to a halt. My gaze falls on the telescope that had been set up on the Rothchild balcony near my bedroom. Drawn to the expensive piece of equipment, I reach out, trailing my fingers over the smooth metal of the scope. My chest tightens as thick emotion clogs it. At every turn, Kingsley throws me off-kilter. He’s an enigma I can’t wrap my brain around.
Why would he do this?
Unwilling to read too much into the gesture, my hand drops to my side as I back away and rush down the staircase. Does he realize that his generosity only sends me spiraling into further mental chaos?
Once at the concrete patio, I skirt around the edge of the pool until my toes sink into the plush carpet of grass. Halfway across the lawn, a noise breaks the stillness of the night and I freeze like a deer in the harsh glare of headlights.
After about ten seconds, another whapping sound breaks the silence. Unlike the first time I heard the noise, I recognize it immediately. Kingsley is in his yard, throwing a ball at the bounce back with his lacrosse stick.
My heartbeat picks up tempo before crashing against my chest. It’s agonizing to realize he’s only a dozen yards away on the other side of the thick foliage that separates our property. As close as he feels, he’s light years away. Even if I wanted to cross the gaping chasm that separates us, I have no idea how to go about it.
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