Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(32)
“I haven’t lost the man I love,” I say, my heart spiking painfully as the stupid words leave my mouth, because even the thought of anything happening to Kai sends a rush of panic charging through me. My pulse throbs in my neck, and I force myself to calm down. “But I have lost my mom, and I miss her every single day.” I don’t mention the loss of my babies, because it’s still too raw, but that pain is something I carry on my shoulders all the time.
“I miss him so much.” Tears roll down her face. “And I don’t want to go on without him.” More tears cascade down her cheeks. “I know that’s selfish. That Charlie and Lillian need me, but how can I be there for them when I’m so broken on the inside?”
I’m broken on the inside too. But I’m using it to fight back. If I didn’t, I’d be a basket case in bed too. It sounds harsh when I put it like that, and I don’t mean it to be, but it speaks to our environments. I’ve had to claw, bite, and fight my way through my life since my mother passed, whereas Charles Barron worshipped the ground his wife walked on and he went out of his way to shield her and keep her safe.
But his protection has weakened her, and she needs to pull herself together, or the elite will eat her alive.
I wrap my arms around her. “You are stronger than you think. And you know Charles would want you to be strong for your children. He wouldn’t want to see you suffering like this.” I don’t really know if what I’m saying is helping or hindering, as I’ve no experience helping someone deal with their grief, but I’m trying. Sure, Drew and I leaned on one another after Mom died, but we were little kids. We just clung to one another without words, and somehow got ourselves through it.
“I don’t feel, strong, Abigail. I feel utterly weak without him.” She clutches onto me. “He was my everything. My strength. My hope. My joy. My purpose in life.” She sniffles. “I don’t know who I am without him.”
I don’t ever want to be that dependent on Kai. I want him to be all those things for me, but I don’t want to have to rely on him to the point I can’t do things for myself. I wonder if Elizabeth realized that is what was happening with her and she was happy to stay in blissful ignorance, or it just snuck up on her and she’s only realizing now that he’s gone.
Elizabeth Barron is a good woman, and she’s not unintelligent, but her husband made her vulnerable and weak.
I worry about what will become of her now she doesn’t have her husband’s protection.
An icy shiver tiptoes up my spine as I contemplate what might happen within elite circles to the widow of a founding father.
Nothing good I’m sure.
There was a time I could bank on Charlie to safeguard his mom, but I don’t know who he is anymore. Or what exact deal he has made with my father.
“You are still you, Elizabeth.” I tilt her face up to me. “And your children need you to be that strong woman tomorrow.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “You need to be strong for you, because there will be challenges ahead, and you can’t ignore them no matter how much you may want to.” I don’t want to be blunt or appear harsh, so I’m hoping my subtle insinuation will sink into her foggy brain and force her to start taking control of herself. “Can I make a suggestion?” She shrugs. “Let me run you a nice warm bath. You’ll feel a little better after. Please let me do that for you?”
I don’t expect her to agree, but she does. “Okay.”
“Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll set it up.”
I run the faucets in the tub, dropping some bath oil that I find in the cupboard over the sink into the water. I remove a couple of towels, placing them over the radiator so they are warm for her when she gets out. Then I help her into the bathroom and leave her to soak in the tub while I find a clean nightdress for her to change into and replace the covers on her bed with fresh linens.
When she emerges from the bathroom, in a cloud of steam, rubbing at her wet hair with a towel, it’s good to see her at least looking like the woman I know. Propping her up on the bed, I gently pull a comb through her hair before blow-drying it.
I’m conscious of the form lingering behind the doorway, but I don’t acknowledge him, and Elizabeth doesn’t notice her son at all. I don’t know how long he’s been there or how much he heard.
I stay with her after she’s tucked up and has taken a valium, only stepping out of the room when she’s asleep.
The door has only just closed after me when Charlie reels me into his arms. “Thank you for taking care of her.” He holds me tight. “I couldn’t do this without you. You are my strength, Abby.” He kisses the top of my head. “You make me want to be a better person,” he adds, and I smother my snort of hilarity. “A better man. To be someone worthy of you.”
What a pity he hadn’t thought about that before he got his father killed and shattered his family beyond repair.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The funeral is every bit as horrific as I expected it to be. I insist that Charlie sits in between his mother and sister at the top pew in the church, and I’m sitting on the other side of Elizabeth. Drew is on my other side, and my father and Patrice—that emotionless bitch he’s engaged to—are sitting on the other side of him.
The church is packed to capacity, and there are people standing outside too.