Hold My Breath(51)

“How could you, Will? He’s your family?”

His head jerks up the moment I utter that word, and I stare at him hard. His eyes dim briefly, as if I cut him and he were bleeding. He closes them for a breath, his chest rising slowly, his brow dimpled with the pains of getting caught. When he opens to look at me again, though, his eyes are resolute. The pain is still there, but something about his expression has shifted—his face tilted a hair to the left, his mouth pulled up ever so slightly on one side, his breathing calm and slow.

Pity.

“He’s not my son, Maddy,” he says.

The words don’t make sense to me. They battle in my head.

“But her message,” I start.

He shakes his head slowly, and I begin to mimic him, shaking my own, until his no shifts into a nod of yes.

“He’s not…my…son,” he repeats.

My mouth waters with sickness. My lips wrinkle, and the tears begin to pool, burning my eyes. I don’t touch them. I drown in them. I wait to hear it. I make him say it. If he doesn’t, I may never believe it.

“No,” I utter.

His nod remains slow and unwavering.

“Say it,” I whisper, my throat sore from the pain dying to claw its way out. “Say it!” The second time comes out harsh and gritty.

“He’s my nephew,” he says, and I fall to my knees on the ground. Will is quick to hold me, but I fight against him, pushing him away.

“You’re lying!” I cry. “He’s not. He didn’t. You are lying!”

I push him so hard he falls back on his ass, sitting with his legs out in his fancy suit, his father’s watch and cufflinks on his hands. I know right then he’s right. I know that Will has been operating on duty, and I know that I’ve been mourning a lie.

“He’s Evan’s, Maddy, and I’m so goddamned sorry,” he says, just as I lean forward and throw up every bit of wine I’ve had to drink.

“Come on,” he says, his hands swiftly sliding under my legs and around my back. He carries me around the back of the house, into the darkness, to the small hose bib that my mother uses to fill her pail and water the roses. He turns it on and cups his hands, splashing water on my puked-on arms and legs, trying to rinse away my vomit from my dress.

I weep without sound, nothing but a never-ending rush of tears cascading down my hot cheeks. I’m certain they will leave behind burns, scars that will never ever let me forget how wrong my f*cking heart was to choose Evan Hollister.

“You lied to me, Will,” I breathe out.

His mouth is a hard line while he washes his hands and lifts my legs one at a time, rinsing them under the water.

“How could you lie?” I ask.

He turns the water off, then looks me square in the eyes.

“How could I not?” he says.

We both stare into one another raw and broken, our breathing labored, our eyes red, our skin blotched and marked with lost hopes and regret and all of the goddamned what ifs that don’t matter worth shit.

Will looks to the side when we hear the sound of the door opening, and his eyes flash back to me. Without pause, he lifts me in his arms again, carrying me around the side of the house and to the street. He unlocks his car and sets me down in the passenger seat, then rushes to the other side, stopping to talk to someone I can’t see.

“She had too much to drink. I’m going to get her out of here, so it doesn’t embarrass her,” he says.

I hear Holly’s voice respond.

“I’ll cover for you,” she says.

In a blink, Will’s in the car next to me, and we’re driving to the club. When we get there, Will stops in front of the building, kills the engine, and squeezes the steering wheel in his hands tightly. His jaw clenches and his face grows red as his hands slam against the wheel three times, the pounding sound making me flinch.

“I’m so sorry, Maddy. I never wanted this for you, and I’m just…I’m sorry,” he says, getting out of the car, but stopping before the door shuts completely. “Take all the time you need. I’ll leave the doors all unlocked. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but make sure you really want to know it.”

When the door closes gently behind him, I begin to bawl. I don’t stop for hours, and I never go inside the club.





Chapter Eleven





Maddy





There’s something to be said about hitting bottom. There’s comfort in it, knowing that no matter what comes along, nothing—absolutely nothing—can pull you any lower than you already are.

I thought losing Evan was bottom, and living with the guilt that there was a part of me that didn’t want to marry him—that evaded the conversation that last day, before he left, making sure he didn’t ask.

That wasn’t even close to the depths I’ve fallen in the last twenty-four hours. I’m so far below bottom, I’ve burrowed into the earth.

I walked home under the stars. It was after midnight by the time I made it to my parents’ house, and they were still busy entertaining sponsors to notice me. I crawled into my mattress bed next to my snoring best friend, and it’s like she knew, opening her arm and letting me snuggle up next to her. I never slept, and I’m awake now, the morning light not stopping for me or my misery. I’m wrapped in the blanket my mom saves for guests while I watch my friend tug a travel hairbrush through her tangled red strands.