Jaden (Jaded #3)(43)

My heart paused, then lunged in my chest.

He was seeing me, the real me, and there was no polished-Bryce between us. The persona he had taken on when he became a soccer player, then became famous, all of it was gone. It was just him, and my god, I had missed him.

I wet my lips, my throat suddenly dry.

He saw my response, and his eyes darkened, but he held himself back, shaking his head in the slightest movement. Beth couldn’t see him. He was standing behind her so as she started to say something, he began walking to the pool area.

“—sorry you feel that way. I am.”

I swung back to her as Bryce slipped out the door without a noise. “What?”

She finished the sandwiches and set them aside. Washing her hands and then drying them off, she stopped in the middle of the kitchen. Lifting her head, she looked at me, and I felt like she was looking inside of me, seeing me how Bryce just had. An emotion flickered in her gaze, and it was that damn pity again.

I wanted to reach up and grab it from her. She hadn’t earned the right to look down on me.

“I’m sorry, Sheldon. I’m sorry you feel this way. I’m sorry that it may even be true. You’re right. I’m not your mother, and I may never have the privilege of being your stepmother, not that I would expect you to allow me to fulfill that role, but your insults and this brash exterior aside, don’t take the words out of my mouth. When I say it would’ve been a privilege, I mean it. A privilege. A blessing.” A lone tear slipped from her eye, and she brushed it aside with an impatient flick of her hand. “I can’t apologize for your mother or your father, but I can only tell you that when I look at you, I don’t see whatever you think I see. I see my own child.” Her voice trembled. “I lost her four years ago. She was like you, hurt and lost, but she didn’t have your fight, and the mother in me is horrified at how jealous I am. I’m horrified too because what kind of a mother am I, to wish that my own daughter had half the fight you do. She chose to end her own life, but if she had fought . . .” Pure agony rose up in her eyes and her head lowered. Her lip started jerking, and I heard the struggle as she tried to control her emotions.

Regret seeped into my pores, but I didn’t know what to say. I had never thought about giving up. Even the idea never came to me. Give up? To who? Then some other dumbass would’ve won. Marcus. The sorority bitches from last year. Even this killer, whoever the hell he was—I’m sure the end for him is me dying.

“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. Beth wasn’t my enemy. I’d been treating her like it. “I didn’t know about your daughter.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look back up.

I had broken her. That thought occurred to me, and I bit my lip, feeling guilty about it. “Look.” I shook my head. What the hell was I doing? “I can be a real bitch. I lash out and sometimes, most of the time, I don’t even need to lash out. I didn’t know you had a daughter, and I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m sure she must’ve been feeling unbearable pain for her to do what she did.”

She sniffled and her hand lifted, wiping more tears from her eyes. She still didn’t look at me. I realized that she couldn’t. Whatever struggle Beth was feeling, it had nothing to do with me. Her daughter was in the room, pressing on her, how Grace pressed on me.

“If it’s worth anything, I feel like you were a good mom.”

A laugh in disbelief came from her. Still so soft, but it was there. It was a small break from whatever punishment she was feeling at that moment.

“No, I mean it.” I tried to think of my own mother, what she would be doing if I had chosen that route. “I don’t think my mom would be crying about me in some room with a stranger. She’d be bawling her eyes out at my gravesite, with press scheduled to arrive. I’m sure she’d call them and make sure they timed it just right, catching her breaking down or something.”

Beth laughed, still crying. “Your mom’s a bitch.”

“True that,” I grunted.

“Look.” She shook her head again and lifted her gaze. Big teardrops were there, hugging the underside of her eyes and filling up to fall down, but she ignored them. “I just wanted to let you know I’m not the enemy. Regardless of what happens with your father, because you’re right, I don’t know his history with you or what appalling behavior he might choose, if he will leave at the end or not. I just wanted to let you know that I admire your fight. You’re a survivor. It’s something I wish I had more of in me.” She moved forward and grabbed my hands. Pressing them to her chest, she lifted a hand to my cheek. Her hand rested there lightly. A look passed in her eyes, one that I could only conceive as mothering and loving before her hand fell away. She stepped backward and murmured, “You’ll come out of this swinging. I have no doubt.”

Then she turned and left.

I had no idea what had just happened, but a different sensation had dug inside my chest. No, it wasn’t digging. It was filling me up.

“Yo!” Denton popped into the room. A bright pink towel was around his shoulders as he only wore board shorts and sandals. “Oh good. You found the margarita mix. I’d forgotten where that was.”

I laughed to myself, shaking my head. I felt loved, and it came from someone who I had been a bitch to. Now I really needed a margarita.