Broken and Screwed 2 (BS #2)(72)

It was a relief.

But when I saw an email from my dad, my relief fled. Everything fled.

Alexandra,

I am writing to you with a heavy heart. While your mother is doing well—the life coaches have done miracles with her—we were contacted by our lawyers. There is a concern regarding the inheritance Ethan left you. You were named in his will and testament, but they require further documentation from you. If you could please contact Mr. Benson at the Benson, Filler, and Associates, I am certain that their questions will be answered. Please and thank you for your time fulfilling this matter. Your mother talks about you often. She has expressed an interest in visiting you. Her life coaches seem quite hopeful that reconciliation is possible, but I will express my concerns surrounding this situation. I fear your mother may suffer a relapse, and this is a matter I think upon daily. I will contact you with further information if your mother should decide to pursue this avenue. Until then, my thoughts and prayers are with you.

Sincerely, your father

P.S. We will be visiting Jesse Hunt this weekend. Your mother wished to attend one of his basketball games. We both miss Jesse so much. He was like a son to us. I would be appreciative if you do not create a scene, if we were to run across paths.

I sat there as a familiar numb sensation spread throughout me.

My mother talked of me often.

Her life coaches wanted reconciliation.

My father was uncertain.

Lawyers.

Ethan’s will.

Documentation.

Questions. Concerns. Thoughts. Prayers.

The numb feeling began to give away. Rage was filling in. As I sat there, my jaw clenched together, my teeth ground against each other, and I reached forward. Grasping the computer with both hands, I lifted the screen from the table and threw it against the farthest wall.

There were gasps, a few screams, but most of them were quiet.

Jerking down, I picked up my bag and left, but I knew the whispers had started. It’d be shared around school that Jesse Hunt’s girlfriend was a nutcase. My name would take on a different undertone. Alex, Alex who, they would ask. Others would tell them my full name. Alexandra Claire Connors would be known as a violent freak within an hour.

As I stalked out, I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about a goddamn thing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I went home. The driveway was filled with cars, but one stopped me in my tracks. Their car was in the parking lot. A fleeting question flashed in my head. When had they sent that email? But it didn’t matter. They were here.

They were in Jesse’s house.

My house.

And I wasn’t supposed to create a scene. As I remembered that part of the email, my eyes narrowed to slits and my jaw firmed. I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. As I walked into Jesse’s house, I didn’t expect a crowd around them. Tiffany. Cord. Some girl whose hand he was holding. Derek and Kara. And at the same table, across from my parents was Jesse. His grin couldn’t stretch wider.

He loved them. They were his idealized image of what parents should be, but they weren’t real. Ideal. That’s all they were.

I lost what every teenager should have. Parents.

There were no words to describe the burn inside of me.

My breath rattled. My heart went nuts, but I couldn’t feel it. Everything dimmed for me.

My parents were here, in Jesse’s house. They visited him while they emailed me. They missed him, but I was a concern?

Jesse noticed me first. He waved me over. “Come here. You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

Even Tiffany was grinning. I didn’t know she could. And then I looked at them. Both my parents lost their expressions of happiness. That’s all it was, because they weren’t happy. They weren’t joyous. They weren’t real. They were fake. What people saw is all they saw. That was all there was. There was nothing more in them, certainly not love.

“Alexandra.” My father started to rise.

“Don’t.”

My mother sucked in her breath, “Alex…”

I shook my head. They had gone wrong, so far wrong and they knew it. Guilt flared in both of them before they remembered their best course of action. Denial.

Pathetic.

I now looked at my parents as pathetic. I said as much, “You act like you love him.”

Jesse frowned.

My parents shared a look and I stepped forward. My hands gripped a chair in front of me. I held on so hard, for dear life, and I didn’t care if I broke the chair in two. “You don’t love him. You want to use him. You want to replace Ethan with him.”

“Alex,” Jesse murmured.

I laughed, bitterly and loudly. The louder, the better. It boiled out of me, but I held on to that chair. I couldn’t move from it. It was my anchor. “I wasn’t supposed to make a scene, right? If I ‘crossed paths’ with you, I wasn’t supposed to make a big deal out of it. This is my home, Dad.”

He paled.

I grinned. “Mom thinks of me often. Are you kidding me?” I pinned her down with my gaze. To her credit, she didn’t squirm. She raised her chin and her shoulders lifted as she took one small breath. Oh yes. She was getting ready for me. I started, “We’re supposed to reconcile? Is that what your life coaches want to happen? Did I do you wrong, Mother, at some time in my life?”

My father pounded his fist on the table. “Alexandra, you will not speak to her like that. Your mother is fragile.”