But Jo had been nowhere near finished with him. She’d given him a slanted look before sliding down to her knees, her fingers deftly unzipping his jeans. Michael had been shocked, but not as shocked as when she’d wrapped her pretty pink lips around his swollen cock and begun to suck slowly, deliberately, taking him as deep as she could, while undoing her shirt to give him an eyeful of her bare breasts. She wasn’t going to be rejected, told to go to bed like a little girl. She’d meant to lose her virginity that night, and she’d lose it to Michael, whom she’d wanted since she was old enough to understand that what she felt for him was more than sisterly love. Had Michael given her what she needed that night, had he enjoyed the sex, she’d have done everything in her power to continue the relationship, but Michael, who’d come to his senses a few minutes too late, had been horrified and remorseful. He’d thrown a duvet over her blood-stained thighs, his beautiful eyes filling with tears of shame.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he’d cried. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. Please, forgive me. I’ll do anything to make this right.”
“You’ve done enough,” Jo had said, angry and disappointed. She’d wanted earth-shattering sex and all she got was a few minutes of uninspired intercourse followed by Michael’s tearful apologies. “Get out, Michael.”
She should have kept their tryst a secret, should have taken her share of the responsibility for what happened, but she’d thrown Michael to the wolves. She’d accused him of rape and demanded that her parents press charges. She’d wanted to see him brought down, humiliated, and destroyed. When she’d discovered she was pregnant, she had been almost glad, eager to punish Michael and their parents, since they’d refused to betray their son, and to remind them every day that they’d let her down. Instead, she’d destroyed herself. The girl she’d been before that night no longer existed. She’d been replaced by a younger version of Sylvia, but even Sylvia had managed to find redemption. She’d married, had a family, and enjoyed more than twenty years of peace before her past came calling.
Some days, it felt like Jo’s past had never gone. She’d left home, had changed her name, had even fled the country, but she carried the damage with her, the insecurity, the self-loathing, the inability to form healthy, lasting relationships. All these issues had brought her to Sylvia’s door because some childish part of her still longed for closure, still wanted to be loved by the woman who’d thrown her away. Perhaps it was pathetic, or perhaps it was the first step to finding a way forward. If she could find a way to forgive Sylvia, then maybe, one day, Daisy would find it in her heart to forgive Jo. Maybe, someday, it’d be Daisy standing in front of her house with a stupid box of chocolates, worrying about making peace with the mother who’d betrayed her.
Jo could almost hear her adoptive dad’s bitter laugh as she stepped onto the path that led to Sylvia’s door. She’d repaid his kindness with hatred, had made her cancer-stricken mother’s last months on Earth a living hell. She’d destroyed everything that was good in her life, and there was no forgiveness, not even in death.
Yes, I know, Dad, I was a bitter disappointment to you, Jo thought, recalling her father’s final letter to her. She’d burned the offending missive, but the words were imprinted on her heart, the ink seeping into her blood like deadly poison. She hadn’t realized until the night she’d read the letter that she still longed for her father’s approval, or in this instance, his forgiveness. That was why she was here, and that was why she wouldn’t cause Daisy any unnecessary pain.
Unfortunately, her newly discovered goodwill didn’t apply to Quinn. Unlike Sylvia, who was tragically flawed, Quinn was like Mary Poppins—practically perfect in every way. Jo knew her jealousy of Quinn was petty and unfounded, since Quinn had done nothing but try to forge a relationship with her and help her find her daughter, but for some reason, Quinn’s innate kindness irritated Jo to no end, especially since it seemed to have won her Gabe’s love. Perhaps if Quinn had been married to some terminally dull, balding doughball, she’d love Quinn with all her heart, but Jo’s desire for Gabe skewed her feelings and played up her competitive streak.
Jo chuckled when she recalled the wicked little fantasy she’d indulged in on the flight back to London. What if Quinn became trapped in one of her visions? What would happen? Jo had never allowed herself to get caught up in anyone’s life, past of present—it hurt too much— but Quinn mentally time-travelled routinely, using her psychic ability to dupe unsuspecting viewers, who watched her program and lapped up her assumptions without ever questioning how someone could deduce so much about a victim’s personal life from a dusty pile of bones. Quinn could have stuck to scientific facts and painted a more abstract picture of her subjects’ lives, but she used her gift and put herself through an emotional wringer because, at the end of the day, she was desperate to be liked and admired. Perhaps Gabe was like that as well; maybe that was why they got on so well. Did he think himself superior to others because he was an academic rather than a bus driver or a civil servant? Well, Jo would be happy to stroke his ego, and anything else that needed stroking, as long as she got what she wanted.
As Jo finally walked up to the door of Sylvia’s house, she briefly wondered how Sylvia felt about Quinn. Was she the president of the Quinn Allenby-Russell fan club, or did she secretly want to slap that self-confident smile off her face? She was probably proud as hell, given the mediocrity of her other children. Logan was nice enough, but at twenty-seven, he’d most likely reached the pinnacle of his potential, and Jude would be lucky to see his next birthday, at the rate he was going. Perhaps it was Seth’s DNA that had imbued both Jo and Quinn with intellect and ambition. How she wished she’d met Brett. She bet they’d have lots to talk about, given their mutual resentment toward Quinn. She’d gladly take a trip out to New Orleans just for a chat with the evil little fucker. It’d be fun to get into his head.
Jo raised her hand and rang the bell. For a moment, she hoped Sylvia wouldn’t be home and she could tell herself that she’d tried and failed, but then she heard the click of the lock and braced herself for the awkward meeting.
Chapter 19
Sylvia was cautiously friendly when she opened the door. Jo registered the glimmer of satisfaction in her hazel eyes, and thought she noticed a hint of smugness in Sylvia’s less-than-welcoming smile. Sylvia had known Jo would come back. The daughters she’d abandoned were drawn to her like moths to a flame, desperate to understand the woman who’d given them life and blithely walked away from them as soon as she was able.
Jo handed Sylvia the box of chocolates and followed her into the kitchen, where Sylvia put the kettle on and went through the ritual of preparing tea. She had no clue whether Sylvia liked chocolate, but it seemed rude to come empty-handed and she couldn’t be bothered to ask Quinn what might make an appropriate peace offering.
Jo was surprised when Jude walked in. She hadn’t expected him to be back at home. Jude’s hair was tousled, and his jeans were sliding down his hips in a way that showed off his chiseled abs and sharp hipbones. Despite his unkempt appearance, he was a good-looking bloke, and surprisingly fit after weeks of stewing in rehab. He looked healthier and stronger than when they’d first met, and his gaze, which had been clouded and unfocused, was sharp as a razor when he gave her a casual once-over.
“Hey, Jude.” She couldn’t help humming a couple of bars of the Beatles song in her head, before forcing her brain to focus. “Been working out?” Jo asked. It was a stupid question, but she had no idea what to say to him. She supposed it was better than, Been shooting up since you got out?
“Yeah, there was a gym at the rehab facility. Thought I might as well take advantage,” Jude drawled lazily.
“So, what are you doing home?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’ve been sprung. Too expensive to keep me on ice for this long. It’s time I faced my demons and took control of my life,” Jude said, clearly mimicking something he’d been told in one of his therapy sessions.
�
�Oh yes? So, how’s that going?” Jo asked. She’d meant to convey interest, but instead came off sounding sarcastic.
“As well as can be expected,” Jude replied, and accepted a mug of tea from his mother. “Clean as a whistle, me; and will stay that way even if it kills me.” He grinned, grabbed a piece of chocolate from the box on the table, and left the kitchen without bothering to ask Jo anything about herself.
She wasn’t surprised. Jude had still been recovering from his overdose when they’d met and couldn’t give a toss about a sister who’d appeared out of the blue. Jo did get the feeling that Jude was close to Quinn. He’d mentioned her several times during that first conversation and there was a softening in his gaze when he mentioned something Emma had said. Emma was a hoot; Jo would give her that. She was the kind of child Jo wouldn’t mind having—smart, sassy, and observant, and the fact that she wasn’t Quinn’s biological child made her even more appealing. In Jo’s eyes, Emma was entirely Gabe’s, her dead mother a nonentity as far as Jo was concerned.
“I was glad you called,” Sylvia said as she placed a mug of tea before Jo. “I wasn’t sure we’d speak again after the last time.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Jo replied.
“Oh?” Sylvia asked noncommittally as she sat across from her and reached for a chocolate.
“I have a daughter, Sylvia. I gave her up nearly fifteen years ago and never bothered to ask what had become of her. I guess you and I are not so different after all.”
Sylvia didn’t say anything, which irritated Jo. She wanted Sylvia to tell her that she understood and sympathized, and that there had to be a good reason for what she’d done. She wanted Sylvia to give her permission to forgive herself, but Sylvia continued to drink her tea, as if Jo hadn’t just informed her that she had another granddaughter.
“I found her,” Jo continued. “She lives with her father. She’s happy.”
“And does that make you feel better?” Sylvia asked, her head tilted to the side and her gaze narrowed in speculation, as if she were taking Jo’s measure.
“Yes, I suppose it does, although it makes me angry too.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jo lied.
“Don’t you?” Sylvia asked. “You don’t strike me as the type of person who doesn’t know what she’s angry about.”
Jo exhaled loudly. She resented Sylvia’s tone and the implication that she was holding back, but she needed to talk to someone about this, and it wasn’t until she’d seen Sylvia a few minutes ago that she’d realized how much she missed her adoptive mother. She hadn’t given her much thought over the years; it had always been her father who’d done the haunting, but there was something comforting about sharing your troubles with another woman, one who hopefully wouldn’t judge you too harshly since she’d been through a similar experience.
“All right, I do know,” Jo admitted. “I never wanted the baby, not for a moment, but finding out that her father has been there for her all this time, has raised her and been loved by her, makes me feel irrationally jealous, and cheated. You must think me a terrible hypocrite,” Jo said, raising her eyes to meet Sylvia’s thoughtful gaze.
“I don’t think anything of the sort,” Sylvia replied. “You did what you thought was best at the time. In retrospect, it might have been the biggest mistake of your life, but you wouldn’t know that when you were sixteen. Life has a way of changing one’s perspective, and one’s priorities. When I was seventeen, all I wanted was to feel unencumbered again. At forty-eight, all I want is to keep my children around me, since I know my time with them is not guaranteed. Quinn doesn’t need me; she has a mother who’s loved her all her life and thinks I’m a dirty little slapper who doesn’t deserve a second chance. Logan has a life of his own, and whether his future is with Colin or not, he’ll still go his own way regardless, as he should; he’s a grown man. And Jude won’t stick around here for long. He’s an adrenaline junkie who needs to walk the knife edge of danger to feel alive. I pray that whatever he does next won’t be the end of him. I wish I’d appreciated my children more when they still needed me, instead of wishing I had more time to myself, but it’s too late now. Now all I can do is wait until they ring me and make myself available to them for the brief period of time I’m useful to them.”
“You’re very forthcoming,” Jo said, taken aback by Sylvia’s candor.
“Isn’t that why you came here, to hear some home truths?”
“I suppose. I’m not sure what to do, Sylvia.”
“About what?”
“About any of it. I’m nearly thirty-two. I have a daughter I’ll never have a relationship with, a sister who annoys me because, if I’m honest, I’m desperately jealous of her, brothers who’d be just as happy without me in their lives, and I’m in love with a man I can never have.”
“Oh dear,” Sylvia replied with a knowing smile. “Well, let’s break this down into bite-sized morsels, shall we? Makes it easier to digest. Whether you have a relationship with your daughter is up to you. I’m not suggesting that you barge into her life and ambush her with your needs, but perhaps, in time, you can begin to lay the groundwork for a reunion. She might not want to have anything to do with you at first, but time is on your side, and nothing is impossible when it comes to human relationships. Just look at us.”
Jo smiled in acknowledgement. She had never imagined being able to have such a frank discussion with Sylvia, and she was pleasantly surprised to discover that Sylvia was not only showing something of her own vulnerability but was eager to help Jo with her problems rather than just dismissing her as a heartless bitch. “And Quinn?” Jo prompted.
Sylvia smiled, her gaze soft with understanding. “It’s only natural that you should be jealous of Quinn. Sibling rivalry is par for the course, even more so with twins, and Quinn is a tough act to follow. She drives me mad at times, but I am proud of her. Quinn is the type of person who will always win at the game of life because she’s smart and kind, which is not to say that you don’t have your own strengths. You are intelligent, ambitious, and fearless, a quality few people possess. Most people settle for the known, the comfortable. You just returned from Syria. What you do takes a lot of courage and self-sacrifice. Don’t sell yourself short, Jo. You’re just as successful as Quinn, and the personal side of things will come, in time.”
Sylvia took a sip of tea and popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. Seemed like that was another thing they shared—a love of sweets. “Your brothers don’t dislike you; they don’t know you. There’s still time to build a relationship with them, even with your brother in the States. You can write to him, if you wish. And this man you’re in love with, what’s the story there?”
“He’s married, and he loves his wife,” Jo replied gravely.
“I see. What is it about this man that makes you love him? Could it be his unavailability?” Sylvia asked.
Once again, Jo was taken aback by Sylvia’s astuteness. Would she still want Gabe so badly if he were available, or would she dismiss him as another dull academic who was soft as white bread beneath his starched shirts and tragically repressed where it mattered most? Jo smiled to herself, shaking her head. No, she’d want him just as much because he wasn’t dull or soft or asexual. He was a rare man, the kind that came along once in a lifetime.
“He’s everything I think a man should be: intelligent, kind, ambitious, and unbelievably hot. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I don’t think I ever will.”
“Does he know how you feel?”
“I think he’s beginning to suspect. What should I do? What would you have done in my place?”
“I would have pursued him,” Sylvia confessed. “I’m not proud to admit that, but I wasn’t one to walk away from something I wanted. My husband was married when we first met, and he fancied himself in love with his wife. I helped him see that maybe he didn’t love her as much as he thought he did.”
“Did he love you?” Jo asked.
“Did he have children with his first wife?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Would you still have gone after him if he had?” Jo asked.
“At that time in my life, probably. I was too selfish to think of anyone else. Does this man have a family?”
“Yes, he has small children, but I would never try to prevent him from being their father.”
“Jo, it’s not for me to tell you what to do. You’ll do what you think is right anyway, but you can’t break up his family, only he can do that, and if he’s willing to walk away from his wife and children, that’s his decision, not yours. It takes two people to start a relationship. I’d tell you to walk away from this, but somehow, I don’t think you will, so instead, I’ll tell you to beware. If you pursue this, you’re risking a lot more than he is.”
“I can’t walk away as long as I think there might be a chance for us,” Jo replied. She briefly wondered what Sylvia’s advice would be if she knew Jo was referring to Gabe but decided to withhold that particular bit of information. If, in time, Quinn discovered that Jo had been acting on Sylvia’s advice, she’d have kittens. The thought nearly made her smile.
“And is there a chance for you? You just said he loves his wife.”
“He does, but that can change. People fall out of love all the time.”
“Then perhaps you should go all in. Confront him, tell him how you feel, and see if there’s any chance of a future. If not, then walk away and don’t waste any more time on something that can never be.”
“Yes, I just might do that. Thank you for listening to me.”
The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8) Page 10