I tried to keep the condemnation out of my voice, considering the woman had just died, but my stomach churned at the idea that a mother would compete with her child.
Jules let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the thing about my mom. She was used to being the center of attention. Homecoming queen, prom queen, beauty queen. She won a bunch of pageants when she was younger and never got over her glory days. She was beautiful even when she was older, but she couldn’t stand notbeing the most beautiful person in the room.”
She took a deep breath. “My mom pursued modeling instead of attending college, but she never made it big. After she had me, the jobs dried up, and she became a cocktail waitress. Our town was cheap. We would’ve had an okay lifestyle, but she had a huge spending problem and racked up a bunch of credit card debt on clothes, makeup, beauty services…basically anything that helped her keep up appearances. Our bills fell by the wayside. There were some days when the only real food I ate was in the school cafeteria, and many days when I would come home, terrified that would be the day we got evicted.”
I rubbed Jules’s back with soothing strokes even as my jaw tensed at the description of her childhood.
Who the fuck would choose makeup and clothing over food for their kid?
But I’d witnessed enough ugliness in the world to know those people existed, and it made me sick that Jules had grown up with one of them.
“When I was thirteen, she got the attention of Alastair, the richest man in town, when he visited the bar where she worked,” Jules continued, “They got married a year later. We moved to a big house, I received a generous allowance, and it seemed like all our problems were solved. But Alastair always…” The short pause was long enough for dread to solidify my insides. “…watched me and said things that made me wildly uncomfortable, like how nice my legs were or how I should wear skirts more often. But he didn’t touch me, and I didn’t want people to think I was overreacting to a few compliments, so I didn’t say anything. Then one night, when I was seventeen and my mom was out with her friends, he came into my room and…”
I stilled. “And what?” The words vibrated with such eerie calm it was hard to believe they came out of my mouth.
“He said all this stuff about how I should be more grateful for everything he’s done for me and my mom, and then he said I could show him how grateful I was by…you know.”
Rage clouded my vision and painted the world in a film of bloody red. Darkness stirred in my chest, insidious in how slowly it uncoiled, like a monster lulling its prey into a false sense of security before it attacked.
“What happened after that?” Still calm, still flat, though razored tension ran sharp beneath my words.
“Of course, I said no. I yelled at him to get out and threatened to tell my mom what he said. He just laughed and said she’d never believe me. Then he tried to kiss me. I tried pushing him off, but he was too strong. Luckily…” Her mouth twisted at the word. “My mom came home early and caught us before he could…do anything else. He spun some story about how I’d tried to seduce him, and she believed him. She called me a whore for trying to seduce her husband and kicked me out that night.”
The rage pulsed harder in my gut, expanding and intensifying until it shattered any morals I might’ve had.
I became a doctor to save lives, but I wanted to slice Alastair’s skin off his body, strip by strip, and watch the life bleed from his eyes.
“I was able to withdraw enough money to scrape by for a few weeks before Alastair froze my accounts,” Jules said. “I, um, worked odd jobs around town until college. After graduation, I left and haven’t gone back since.”
“Where’s Alastair now?”
God help him if I ever found him, because I had zero compunction about turning my murderous fantasy into reality.
When it came to monsters who preyed on young girls or anyone I cared about, I didn’t give a shit about the law. The law wasn’t always justice.
“He died my junior year of college,” Jules said. “House fire. I was still tracking what was happening back home at the time—call it morbid curiosity—and the news made it into the local papers. There were rumors of arson, but the police couldn’t find any hard evidence, so the case went cold.”
Alastair’s death should’ve placated me, but it only pissed me off more. I didn’t care if he’d burned alive; the bastard got off too fucking easy.
“My mom was out with friends at the time, so she was fine, but it turned out Alastair left her a pittance,” Jules continued. “I’m not sure where the rest of his fortune went, but of course, my mom spent her inheritance within a year. She went from having everything to having nothing again.” A bitter smile touched her lips. “That was also in the local papers. When you’re as rich as Alastair was, in a town as small as Whittlesburg, everything that happens to you and your family is news.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “And no one questioned the fact that they threw a seventeen-year-old out to fend for herself?”
“No. The townspeople made up their own rumors about how I was stealing from Alastair to fund my drug habit,” she said flatly. “How they tried to get me help but it didn’t work, they were at their wits’ end, so on and so forth.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“The crazy part is, I still wanted to reconcile with my mom, especially after Alastair’s death. She was my mom, you know? The only family I had. I called her, got her voicemail, and left my number. Asked her to call me back because I wanted to talk. She never did.” Jules wrapped her hands tighter around the mug. “My ego took a huge blow, and that was the last time I reached out to her. But if I hadn’t let my pride get in the way…”
“Communication is a two-way street.” Some of my anger faded, replaced by a deep ache for the little girl who’d only wanted her mother’s love. “She could’ve contacted you too. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
Honestly, her mother sounded like a piece of fucking work, but I kept that to myself. Don’t speak ill of the dead and all that.
“I know.” Jules sighed. Distress carved tiny grooves in her forehead, but at least she’d stopped crying. “Anyway, enough about the past. It’s depressing.” She knocked her knee against mine. “You wouldn’t make a half-bad therapist.”
I almost laughed at the thought. “Trust me, Red. I’d make a terrible therapist.” I could barely get my life together, much less advise people on theirs. “I just have experience with dysfunctional families, that’s all.”
The doorbell rang.
I reluctantly unfolded myself from the couch to answer the door and returned with two large brown paper bags.
“Comfort food,” I explained, removing the takeout boxes from the bags.
Macaroni and cheese. Tomato soup. Salted caramel cheesecake. Her favorites.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat.” I pushed a container of soup toward her. “You’ll need the energy later. And drink more water or you’ll be dehydrated.”
Jules rewarded me with a tiny smile. “You’re such a doctor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You take everything as a compliment.”
“Of course I do. I can’t fathom why anyone would want to insult me.” I removed the lid from the macaroni and cheese. “I’m extremely lovable.”
“People who are extremely lovable don’t have to keep saying it.” Jules took a tiny sip of soup before setting it down.
“Most people aren’t me.” I speared a piece of cheesecake with a fork and handed it to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted.
We ate in companionable silence for a while until she said, “I have to fly to Ohio soon. For the funeral. But my graduation is on Saturday, and I have to make the arrangements, and I don’t even know how much flights are. They can’t be that expensive, right? But it’s so last minute. And I have to figure out where I’m going to stay, and I have—”
“Breathe, Red.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, steadying her. She was breathing faster again, her eyes taking on the wildness of overwhelm. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish eating, then you’re going to take a shower while I look up flights, hotels, and funeral homes. Once we nail those things down, we can focus on the details. And you are not flying to Ohio until after graduation. You went through three years of law school hell, so you’re walking across that damn stage. Got it?”
Jules nodded, looking too stunned to argue.
“Good.” I handed her the rest of the cheesecake. “Here. That shit’s too sweet for me.”
After we finished eating, she took a shower while I figured out the logistics of her trip. Luckily, flights to Ohio weren’t expensive, and Whittlesburg had a total of two hotels, five bed and breakfasts, and a handful of sketchy-looking motels on the outskirts of town, so it wasn’t hard to narrow the choices down. A quick Google search also turned up a funeral home with good reviews and reasonable prices.
By the time Jules stepped out of the bathroom, I had everything ready to go on my laptop. She gave them a cursory glance before booking.
“Thank you.” She sank onto my bed and ran a hand through her hair, still looking a little lost but more animated than before. “You didn’t have to do all this.” She gestured at my computer.
“I know, but it beats watching some crappy TV rerun for the tenth time.”
Jules snorted. Her eyes fell on my open suitcase and widened. “Wait, your New Zealand trip. I forgot that’s—”
“Not until next week. I leave Monday.” Unease tugged at my gut. I’d been so excited for New Zealand, but my enthusiasm had waned, for some reason.
“That’ll be fun.” Jules yawned. She wore an old Thayer tee of mine that skimmed her thighs, and her damp hair hung in dark red waves around her shoulders.
Of all my favorite sights in the world—the Washington Monument at sunrise, the autumnal blaze of leaves during a New England fall, the expanse of ocean and jungle laid out before me at the end of a long hike in Brazil—Jules wearing my shirt might just be my number one.
“Get some rest,” I said gruffly, discomfited by the strange warmth spiraling through my insides. “It’s late, and you’ve had a long day.”
“It’s nine, Grandpa.” She yawned again.
“Yeah? I’m not the one who looks like I’m trying to catch flies with my mouth.” I shut my laptop and turned off all the lights except for my bedside lamp. “Bed. Now.”
“You are so bossy. I swear…” Yawn. “I don’t know how…” Yawn. “People stand…” Jules’s drowsy grumble grew softer with each word until her eyes fluttered closed.
I tucked her beneath the comforter, keeping my touch gentle so I didn’t wake her. Her skin was paler than usual, and a touch of red still shaded the tip of her nose and the area around her eyes, but she fell asleep insulting me. If that wasn’t proof she was feeling better, I didn’t know what was.
I turned off the remaining light and climbed into bed next to her.
Our conversation from Bridget’s wedding lingered, unresolved, between us. Did our original arrangement still stand, or had we morphed into something else? I had no clue. I didn’t know what the fuck we were or what we were doing. I didn’t know what Jules was thinking.
But we could deal with all that another day.
I curled my arm around her waist, tucked her closer to my chest, and, for the first time since our arrangement started, we slept together.