by L.J. Shen
Not shaking his head—not even moving—he said, “Nope.”
“So all the information is th…” I started before he shot his head up and stared at me, his face blank. Chiseled out of titanium. God-like and angry.
“Everything is there, Edie. Every single file, and plan, and contract. You made your choice. If you want to be strong, be. Now, leave.”
I wanted to argue with him. Wanted this to turn into a loud, ugly, angry, real argument after which I would be convinced there was another way to save Theo. But I also acknowledged that all those things would just serve to show that I was still an indecisive teenager, and he was the older man who’d seduced me. And we weren’t those things. We were so much more.
My legs took me to my father’s office, and I don’t remember how I got there, but I do remember the door clicking shut behind me. The sound it made was concluding and grave.
There was an ocean of space and unspoken words between us, every inch a toxic drop of bitterness. I wanted to keep it that way. With Jordan Van Der Zee, I preferred to stay dry and guarded.
“Well?” he asked, sitting back in his leather chair and arching one skeptical eyebrow. Not once had he asked me how my mother was while I was sleeping, eating, and living in the hospital by her side. This, combined with what he’d made me do, with what my life looked like, triggered my anger to overflow. My mouth was paper-dry and every muscle in my body was taut with the need to launch at him.
I wasn’t sure where the next words came from, but I was certain I couldn’t stop them from pouring out even if I tried. “Can I ask you something?”
He huffed, sitting back in his chair. He rolled one hand in a go-on motion.
“Now that you know what happened to Mom, do you wish you would have waited? Maybe not pushed her to doing what she did?”
A part of me realized I was being irrational—perhaps even pathetic—trying to reason with him. Looking to find a person with a heart. Because if he was a monster, then I could become one, too. But if there was a sliver of humanity inside him, maybe I could bargain with him and save Trent. Jordan flicked his gaze to his watch, sighed like my very presence was an inconvenience, and rubbed the tip of his chin.
“I didn’t push your mother, Edie. We’re all responsible for our own lives. Dumping the blame on someone else is for the weak.”
Again with the power games. My father didn’t care. What’s more, I was starting to suspect he actually took pleasure from this screwed-up situation. I was the one to coax Mom off the ledge time and time again, while he was the one to push and watch her fall, all the while waiting for me to let her go. This was where we danced. On the edge of her sanity. I needed to break this cycle—smash his foot in—to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt her.
I sucked in a breath, swallowing down a juicy curse. My mind was made. “I have the flash drive.” I changed the subject, looking straight ahead at him.
His face was smeared with delight, confirming how cocky and self-assured he was. “Well, are you waiting for a royal invitation? Give it to me.”
“Not until you tell me why you hate him.”
“It really is none of your business, Edie.” He rolled his Cartier pen between his fingers.
And then…and then…
If you want to be strong, be.
I folded my arms over my chest. “Actually, it is, seeing as I’m in love with him.”
The silence in the room was dense and heavy and real. Jordan’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and his mouth twisted into a scowl I’d never seen before. It’s like he invented a new, pissed-off expression just for me. But I couldn’t take my words back now, and didn’t want to, anyway.
I stepped deeper into the office, knowing what I was doing. Risking everything. My relationship with Theo. My relationship with Trent. With Luna. With my mother. But I was tired and weary of tiptoeing around this man. I’d lose everyone else, but maybe I’d finally find myself.
And if I had to press the self-destruct button to sever the ties between this man and me, so be it. I wanted to feel like I could take a lungful of oxygen without fearing the world would collapse.
“I’m in love with Trent Rexroth so blindly, Jordan, I’m not even sure I see anything other than him when he’s around. I will die for this man, not to mention protect him at all costs. He is a wonderful, broken human being, who is trying hard to do what you’ve failed so miserably. To be a dad. A parent. Someone to lean on. He is making the right choices, time after time, at any cost. He is taking care of the fragile, even though he is callous as hell. And he does everything with integrity and without running anyone else over. So tell me, Jordan, why in the hell do you hate my boyfriend so much?”
He stood up from his chair, his face blood red. I thought a vein was going to pop out of his temple. Maybe I even hoped that’s what was going to happen. His fists were clenched at his sides, his body quivering to the rhythm of his own uncontained rage.
“Give me the flash drive.”
“No.” I stood taller. “What has he done to you?”
“He stole something of mine.”
“What was it?”
“It was everything. Now give me the flash drive before you regret it.” He reached his open palm across his desk, expecting me to obey. He was sorely mistaken. I took a wide step back, feeling like the flash drive was ten times heavier than its featherweight.
“Never.”
He pounced on me before I could react, lunging across his desk to take what he wanted without asking. It shouldn’t have surprised me. All the times he’d manhandled me had proven he had no respect for me. I moved away, clawing at his face instinctively.
“Jesus Christ, you little bitch!” He palmed the scratch I’d left on his face, stumbling backwards. For all his height, my father was grossly unequipped to fight anyone. Even me. He’d spent his whole life tucked in an office like a hamster in a cage.
“Don’t you dare touch me ever again!” My voice shook, but I didn’t. It gave me strength.
“Pack a bag and leave your mother’s house.” He pointed at the door, panting, gasping, seething. “You’re eighteen, so opinionated and mighty. You have it all figured out, don’t you, you little slut?” The last word slapped me in the face and knocked the breath out of my lungs. “I’m sure Trent will happily take you in. But then he is a walking, talking STD, just like the rest of his friends. I am no longer obligated to put a roof over your head. Pack a bag, Edie, and while you are at it, make sure you take whatever you have here with you as well, because you’re fired.”
Instead of doing all the things I thought I would—crying, begging, fearing for what was to come, I turned around and made my way to the door. My back was to him when my father put the last nail in our relationship’s coffin.
“It’s a shame you won’t have time to say goodbye to your brother. I am going to transfer him this week.”
I turned around, smiling, for once, because I knew something he didn’t. “You can’t do that.”
“And why is that, little slut?” he spat, as if he wanted to remind me that’s who I was to him right now. His precious little girl who’d opened her legs to the big, bad wolf.
“Because social services are looking into Theo’s situation. Besides, you can’t transfer a minor from one group house to another so quickly. I checked. You think you’re so powerful, Father, you forget there are other forces around you equally as strong. Even the biggest wave crashes. You’re about to hit the sand. I hope you like the taste of dust.”
I SPENT THE REST OF the day on the beach, alone. I didn’t have time to tell Trent what had happened, and I wanted to have that conversation face-to-face. I was buzzing with adrenaline and high on the danger of what I’d done. So, after calling the rehab facility where Mom had been checked into the day before, I went to the beach to spend some time with the violent ocean. We understood one another. I sat in front of the setting sun, my toes in the sand, hugging my knees and listening to the sounds of seagulls and waves c
rashing ashore.
I didn’t even notice when it got chilly, staying put until about eight in the evening, when I knew for certain Trent and Luna would be home. Showing up at his doorstep unannounced was something I’d never dreamt of doing before, but this wasn’t the type of conversation you had over the phone.
As I made my way to his building, I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to be worried about. After all, I had turned my father down in the end. I didn’t go through with it. I couldn’t give up Trent’s secrets.
I thanked God there was no doorman at Trent’s building, because if there was, he’d have had to call him up through the switchboard and announce my arrival. I couldn’t face it if Trent had said he didn’t want to see me. But I certainly felt like things could still go wrong as I took the elevator up to his penthouse.
My feet felt impossibly heavy on the marble floor. Step after step after step.
My ocean. My secret. My weakness.
I rapped the door three times, listening carefully. Behind it, there was the soft sound of Luna’s chuckle. It wasn’t exactly a laugh—Luna never laughed—but it was the sound she made when she was pleased. It put a smile on my face before the door swung open.
But when it did…
Camila shot a confused smile when she saw me. Behind her was a woman I didn’t know, but I recognized. She had tan skin, long raven hair, and light eyes. She looked like a supermodel—like Adriana Lima—and she wore a tight pink dress that highlighted how curvy she was.
She was crouching, her butt parked on the back of her Prada heels, admiring the stuffed seahorse Luna held in her hands. An identical seahorse to the one Daria had ruined.
Luna’s mother. She was beautiful and right and she belonged.
I felt nausea washing over my body and stumbled backwards, feeling my throat closing up. A bitter lump twisted inside it. Don’t cry.
“What are you doing here, Edie?” Camila’s face was etched with surprise.
“Is this another nanny? Gosh, Carmella, is it? Don’t let her stand there. Invite her in.” The woman stood up, adjusting her tiny dress and strutting her way to the door. She wore a smile that told me she’d already won. It was carved with allure and dripped intention.
She’d been gone for years. It was some kind of sign from the universe to show me Trent and Luna were better off without me. That they had someone better than my father’s daughter. The one who tried to get Trent kicked off the board. I didn’t deserve them.
She was Luna’s mother.
I couldn’t compete with her.
I didn’t even want to.
“Why are you here? Are you in trouble?” Camila pressed, just when Val stopped by her side, putting her hand on Camila’s shoulder.
Camila, not Carmella, you idiot.
“It’s fine if she wants to babysit the kid. Trent and I have a lot to talk about. We could use some privacy. Maybe go down to the marina and grab a bite.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to get away from the situation so bad, I was contemplating jumping off his terrace. The elevator and the stairs weren’t fast enough. The only reason I didn’t barge in and plunge to my death was because I didn’t want Luna to be scarred for life.
I turned around and ran away, jerking open the door to the stairway. My legs moved quickly, much like they had when I was stealing. Tap, tap, tap, tap. The adrenaline felt different, though. More suffocating.
One floor, then another. Blood rushed to my head, and I could faintly hear the door open wider and Trent asking who it was. His echo carried all the way down. He sounded…chilled. Like a man who’d been reunited with the mother of his child and was probably relieved to have her back in their lives.
Alone. I was all alone.
No mother. No father. No friends. No Trent.
I ran for a while, passing my car, which was parked at the promenade by the beach, and all the stores, and all the people, and all the things I used to love but couldn’t look at anymore. This whole street was soaked of memories of Trent. The ocean, too. The first time he’d played with me, with my breasts, with my nipples, with my heart, after I was done surfing. All the wires in my brain sizzled. Would I ever be able to set foot in this place again? To surf? To breathe?
The only solace was that Jordan couldn’t see me like this. He’d say I’d reaped what I’d sown. Remind me that I was nothing but a stupid slut who’d served as a plaything to a man who’d relentlessly searched for this one woman for years. I’d been a passing diversion, a fling.
The blisters on my feet were beginning to swell as darkness washed over the shore. I’d reached the other end of the town, stopping by the marina where the boats were docked. I had to take off my boots and limp the rest of the way. The wood was cool and soothing against my aching feet. I stopped by a small, white, and rusty houseboat floating next to the deck calmly, like it didn’t have a care in the world, just like its owner.
I realized I hadn’t called him before my arrival, again, making the same mistake I had with Trent.
But Bane wasn’t Trent. Bane was a friend. In fact, we’d never been losers. Neither of us could destroy the other person.
I climbed aboard his boat and knocked on his door. He opened, shirtless, a girl and a guy—both half-naked—sitting on his bed. His blond hair was shaggy and his eyes were red from smoking.
“I need you,” I croaked, feeling the tears in my eyes again.
Bane nodded solemnly, not taking a breath before he instructed, “Craig, Shea, get your asses out of here.”
I collapsed into his arms. He held me together loosely, like the safety pins on my backpack, making me feel no less forlorn than I did when I got on his boat.
Then, my only friend in the world clutched me close to his chest and whispered into my ear, “I told you so.”
SAYING I DIDN’T WANT VAL there was the understatement of the fucking decade.
Problem was I had zero choice.
I got home at six, fully intending to change into some workout clothes and go downstairs to the gym to let out some steam after Edie had walked into her father’s office with the flash drive holding all of my ammo, but I had a surprise waiting for me at the door.
Fucking Valenciana Vasquez, leaning against a wall, looking twenty shades of sex-on-red heels, and of course, it did nothing for me.
“Trent.” She batted her eyelashes, a venom-glazed siren. “Long time no see.”
I walked right past her, jamming my keys to the hole. “Hey, you heard no complaints from me.” My jaw ticked once. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She braced herself against the wall, probably overwhelmed by my underwhelming reaction. If she was expecting tears, shouts, and ‘we’ve been waiting for you’ Hallmark card sentiments, she was deeply mistaken. Luna was mine. Mine to love, mine to raise, mine to fix. Val just presented a complication to me, and I was going to eliminate it, nip it in the bud before she could say Jack-fucking-Robinson.
“I’m here for my daughter, of course.” She scoffed, slithering in my direction and sneaking through the door I’d opened.
“What in the good fuck do you think you’re doing?” I asked when her shoulder brushed the doorframe. I blocked her way with my body, turning around and making sure she had no room to slide between my arms.
She blinked away her shock at my steel voice. When Valenciana found out she was pregnant with Luna, she’d asked for five hundred grand to make the pregnancy go away. It had been borderline cute, how she’d thought she could blackmail me. My answer to her had been—go ahead, sweetheart. Have my kid. Money wasn’t the issue—I could pay her off with little to no effect on my lifestyle. But having an abortion on my dime was out of the question. It was different if it came from her. But since she’d given the choice to me, I chose not to choose. Simple.
So she’d had Luna. Then she’d walked away from us.
And now she’d come back.
If she thought she could do so without an explanation and declaration of
intention, she had another thing coming.
“I’m trying to get in so we can talk.” She stomped her heel.
“Luna is going to be here any second now from dance class. She can’t see you.” Each of my words dripped ice, so I wasn’t surprised to see her shiver.
“Who took her?”
Is she a dancer? What is she like? Does she have any other hobbies? So many questions she could have asked. Of course, that would require her to give minimum of two shits about her Luna.
“None of your business. You wanna talk about my daughter, we do it somewhere else. My office. A coffee shop. In another fucking state. No matter where it’ll be, you won’t get access to her until I figure out your angle. Now go.”
“Trent…” Val glided her way to me, hell on heels, her palm on my chest. I threw it off, giving her a piercing look. She swallowed, batting her lashes. “I flew all the way from Georgia,” she whispered.
I started laughing, about to give her a piece of my mind, when the elevator slid open and Luna and Camila walked out. Camila was holding Luna’s backpack, while my daughter bounced on her steps—something she’d started doing ever since Edie had come into our lives—and awarded me with a smile that melted quickly when she realized I wasn’t alone.
“Oh my Gosh, Luna! Look at you! You’re so pretty! Do you know who I am?”
No. Fuck no. I stepped forward to scoop Luna up, but Val’s big mouth was ahead of me. “I’m your mommy!” she exclaimed, flinging her arms theatrically. “I finally came to see you! I’m so excited to get to know you, sweetie!”
Luna’s eyes bugged in disbelief, her face twisting to search my gaze. I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going to come out of it if I allowed myself to respond. Punching a woman was not something I’d ever contemplated doing. But hell if Val didn’t make it difficult to not want to end her.
“All right, let’s get inside and have a nice cup of tea.” Camila was the first to move from her spot, her words tense, her eyes skating between Val and me. There was an edge to her tone which warned me that I couldn’t tell Val to fuck off like I normally would. That I couldn’t let a bomb drop on my kid and then go, “so, that was awkward, huh? Anyway, now that I’ve kicked your mom out, shall we see what’s on television…?”
