The Unexpcted Complications of Revenge
Page 15
“Yeah, well, tell me how I’m supposed to explain to my daughter that her dad’s been in jail for more than a decade and now he’s getting out.” She takes a shaky breath. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“My dad’s been in prison?” The words slip out of my mouth.
My mom spins around in her chair, her eyes widening. “Ens, what’re you doing home so early?”
I shake my head, backing away from her “What was he in jail for?”
She swallows hard as she stands up. “Honey, it’s better if you don’t know. Trust me. You’re dad’s an awful man that’s done awful things.”
Shaking my head, I take another step back. “I want to know.”
She smashes her lips together, and I think she’s considering telling me, but then she says, “I’m not going to tell you. It’s better if you don’t know.”
As tonight’s events wave over me, my anxiety rises and nearly knocks the wind out of me. “I need some fresh air,” I mutter. Then I reel around and hurry for the front door.
“Ens,” my mom calls out as she follows me.
I hold up my hand. “Just give me a minute.”
She halts in the middle of the living room then gives a reluctant nod. “Okay.”
Letting out a deafening exhale, I pull open the front door and step outside. My hair is still wet from swimming and so is my plaid shirt, making the air nippy. I should go back inside and change, but instead I wander toward the parking lot, my mind spinning with so many thoughts I can barely sort through them.
My dad’s in jail because he did something awful.
What did he do?
How bad of a person is he?
Why did my mom never tell me about this? I feel like I deserved to know. I'm eighteen years old for crying out loud, and if my dad's crazy, I should know.
And what if crazy runs in my genes?
My mind is racing so swiftly my head hurts. I should go back inside and lie down, but I really don’t want to see my mom right now and listen to her try to justify why she never told me about my dad and why she still won’t.
I come to a stop in front of the carport and dig out my phone to dial El’s number.
“Ens, where the heck are you?” she answers worriedly. "Carter just got home, and he looks upset."
“He found out about our plan and ended the date,” I reply in a shaky tone. “I’m back at my apartment.”
“What!” she exclaims. “How the heck did he find out? Unless you told him? Wait, did you? I knew your conscious was going to get in the way.”
"I didn't tell him, and I'm not exactly sure how he found out, but he did mention something about how I shouldn't discuss plans about playing someone through text messages," I say, fighting back the tears. "But El, something worse happened then Carter finding out."
“What?” she asks, sounding confused.
"After I got home, I overheard my mom talking to someone on the phone and I…" I suck in an uneven breath. "Apparently, my dad's been in jail for over a decade, and my mom won't tell me why. She just said that he's an awful person and that it's better that I don't know anything about him."
“Oh my God,” she breathes out. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There probably isn’t anything you can say.” A few tears escape my eyes. “I don’t know what to do.” I wipe the tears away from my cheeks. “I’m so mad at her for not telling me. And then this thing with Carter…” More tears pour from my eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go back inside and listen to my mom try to justify why she won’t tell me more about my dad. And I feel so awful about what I did to Carter… You should’ve seen the look on his face… He was so upset.”
“Stop worrying about Carter. You didn’t really do anything to him. It was me. And I’m going to tell him that.”
“Just because you came up with the plan doesn’t mean it’s all your fault.”
“Yeah, it is. I peer pressured you into doing it.”
“No, you didn’t—” I start to argue.
She cuts me off. “Where are you right now?”
I sink down onto the curb. “Sitting outside by the parking lot of my apartment.”
“Okay, well, I’m on my way over there to pick you up,” she says. “Then we’re going to go rent a room in a fancy hotel downtown and stay up all night, binging on junk food while we try to figure out a way to fix this thing with my brother, okay?”
A bit of relief washes over me. “Okay.”
Although, I really doubt fixing this thing with Carter is going to be easy, but I want to try.
“And then tomorrow, if you want to, we’ll try to search around on the internet and see if we can figure out what the deal with your father is,” she tells me. “It might help, though, if you have a name. Maybe you can get that from your mom?”
I think of the photo I found in her room. “I think I might know it already.”
“Good. I’ll be there in like ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
We hang up, and I take a deep breath and another, debating whether or not to go inside and get some clothes to take with me. If I do, more than likely my mom's going to try to stop me from leaving.
So instead I sit on the curb, my mind crammed with so many emotions.
I want to cry.
I want to scream.
I want to run.
I want to forget.
But instead, I dig out my phone and type into the search engine: Gregor and arrest in Fareland.
As soon as I start skimming the articles, I realize why my mom was so hesitant to tell me.
Because if Gregor really is my father he was arrested almost fifteen years ago for the attempted murder of my mother.
23
Carter
I sit in my bedroom, drinking a glass of whiskey, trying to burn what happened tonight out of my system. But so far it’s not working. All I can think about is Ensley, the way she tasted, how comfortable I felt around her, and how none of it was real.
I’m never going to trust anyone again.
Around thirty minutes after I get home, my mom stumbles into my bedroom, drunk off her ass.
Her bloodshot eyes widen as she trips back. “Oh my God.” She presses her hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize you came home.”
I roll my eyes. “Then why are you in my room?”
She looks guilty for a split second, making me wonder what she’s up to, but she quickly erases the look. “So I take it those text messages I showed you knocked some sense into that thick head of yours.”
I glare at her as I lift the brim of the glass to my lips. “Yes, mother, you destroyed my trust for someone. You should feel really proud of yourself.”
“You should feel like an idiot for trusting anyone at all.” She slowly crosses the room toward me. “If you’re smart, you’ll never trust anyone again.”
I say nothing, downing the rest of the whiskey. “Get out of my room. I have no desire to see you right now.”
She gives me a mocking look. “Please tell me you weren’t stupid enough to be falling for this girl? That you’re not sitting in here sulking because of her.”
“Why do you care how I feel?” I question. “You never have before.”
“I usually don’t, but this time caring might mean ruining your future.” She grabs my face, rough enough that her fingernails pierce into my flesh. “If you don’t want me to ruin your sister’s future, you’re going to forget about Ensley, date a nice, rich, girl that comes from a well-respected family, and focus on school and taking over your father’s company.”
Gritting my teeth, I slant away from her. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You do realize that, right?”
She offers me a cold smile. “I’m a lot of things, but every lie, every harsh word—I’ve done it to make sure you and your sister have a nice, lavish life.” With that, she turns and walks toward the door, calling over her shoulder, “You may think you hate your life, but trust me, i
t could’ve ended up a lot worse.” She walks out and shuts the door behind her, leaving me to wonder what she meant.
Leaving me to wonder how my life could’ve ended up worse.
About the Author
Jessica Sorensen is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she’s not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
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