Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3)(97)
The streetlights were buzzing, flickering as they reacted to the dim light. Stars were beginning to poke through the twilight sky, and I still had a long way to go. The cars whizzed by, a few full of kids, blaring music and honking as they passed, and I walked alone with the reality of what Alyssa’s pregnancy meant sinking in with every step.
Summer was in full swing, and it hadn’t rained in weeks. The world was still green but dry. The intermittent wildfires had brought Taylor’s crew to the area.
The walk to downtown took longer than I’d thought, and I was out of shape. A dark Mercedes G-Wagon slowed next to me, and the tinted passenger window rolled down, revealing Blaire behind the wheel and no one else in the car. I began to walk again, but she honked.
“Falyn?” she called. “Where are you headed, dear?”
I sighed. “No one can hear you.”
“Are you going home?”
“Yes.”
“Please let me drive you. We don’t have to talk.”
I looked down the road and then back at Blaire. “Not a word?”
She shook her head.
As much as I didn’t want to get in that SUV, my feet were already hurting, and all I wanted was to crawl into my bed and cry. I opened the door and got in.
A victorious smile lit Blaire’s face, and she pulled away from the curb.
After just a quarter of a mile, Blaire sighed. “Your father hasn’t been well. I don’t think this campaign is good for him.”
I didn’t respond.
She pressed her lips together. “The car is still parked in the garage at the house. Your father drives it sometimes to keep everything in order. Still changes the oil. We would like you to have it back.”
“No.”
“It’s dangerous to walk around alone in the dark.”
“I rarely venture out,” I said simply.
“But on the off chance that you do …”
“You said we didn’t have to talk.”
Blaire parked in one of the many empty spots in front of the Bucksaw. “You have to come home, Falyn—or at least let us move you into an apartment and your father can get you a decent job.”
“Why?”
“You know why,” she snapped.
“It’s always about appearances, isn’t it? You couldn’t care less about me.”
“That’s not true. I’m appalled that you live up there in that filth,” she said, looking up at the café’s second floor.
“Don’t you see where keeping up appearances has gotten our family? Your husband is sick. Your daughter wants nothing to do with you. And for what?”
“Because it’s important!” she hissed, her hair swaying when she moved her head.
“To you. It’s only important to you. I’m not obligated to live a life I hate so that you can feel important.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is wrong with our way of life? Because I want you to go to school? Because I want you to live somewhere that doesn’t need to be condemned?”
“When you say it that way, it sounds wonderful. But you can’t keep omitting the ugly parts. You can’t just erase a pregnancy. You can’t hide a baby. You can’t pretend your daughter isn’t a waitress who doesn’t want to be a doctor. Our life is not a highlight reel. It’s time you stopped pretending it was.”
She inhaled through her nose. “You have always been supremely selfish. I don’t know why I expected tonight to be any different.”
“Don’t come back,” I said before getting out of the car.
“Falyn,” she called.
I leaned down as the passenger window lowered.
“This is the last slap in the face. If your father loses this campaign because of you, we won’t offer to help you again.”
“I didn’t expect that you would.”
I thanked her for the ride and then left her alone, ignoring the sound of my name.
By the time I pushed open the glass door, it was night, and I was exhausted—physically, emotionally, and mentally.
The headlights of the G-Wagon poured through the glass wall as Blaire backed out and then disappeared as she pulled away.
The dining area was dark, and I was alone. I sat on the orange-and-white tiles, lay on my side, and then curled up into a ball before crying myself to sleep.
Someone stabbed a finger into my shoulder, and I winced. The person did it again, and I opened my eyes, raising my hand to protect me from another jab.