What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(90)

Sarah



“Oh yes, you have to take that one. It’s my favorite,” Mom said from where she sat crosslegged on my bed. She was watching me pull clothes from one of the boxes she’d brought with her from Atlanta as I tried to figure out what to take with me to New York.

New York.

I was going to New York.

It was everything I’d wanted, everything I’d worked for, and I couldn’t even find it in me to be twenty-percent happy.

“Keep in mind that I’m going to live in a shoe box,” I reminded her, folding up the floral kamino dress she’d said couldn’t stay behind. “You can’t keep saying yes to every piece of clothing I’ve ever owned.”

Mom twirled the straw in the smoothie she was drinking. “But you need that one. And all your winter clothes, it’ll be cold there soon. And what if you want to go out with friends? You need nice clothes to go out in. And casual clothes to relax in. And if you perform at Carnegie, then—”

“I’ll go shopping,” I finished for her, chuckling. “No wonder you need a walk-in closet.”

“Hey, I wore the same t-shirt and ratty pair of shorts most of my childhood,” she reminded me. “So I like to indulge now. Sue me.”

I smiled, pulling out the next shirt and holding it up for Mom to inspect. She nixed it, waving it off as she took another drink of her smoothie. She’d driven all the way from Atlanta just so she could haul about eight boxes of my clothes, wall décor, and random knick-knacks from my bedroom back home. Most of it would be shipped back to Georgia, but I loved that she brought it all, anyway.

Her baby girl was moving to the big city, and I could see it in her eyes that she was half proud, half terrified.

Having her in Uncle Randall’s house was the comfort I needed — though nothing could take all the pain away. The last two weeks had dragged by like the longest decade of my life, especially the days when I had to work at The Kinky Starfish. I hadn’t been to Reese’s house since the night we fought, cancelling all our lessons since then, but I couldn’t escape him at work.

Tomorrow would be my last night there… and therefore, my last night with Reese.

Somehow, that fact tore me up more than seeing him did.

I’d completely shut down after our fight, the same way I did after what happened to me at Bramlock. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, my brain and body doing whatever they needed to do to protect me and help me survive. It didn’t matter, anyway — there was nothing more to say to Reese and nothing more he could say to me.

Because Jennifer had been right.

I swore to myself when she got in my head that it was wrong, that there was no way any of it could be true. But he’d proven me wrong not even ten minutes after we got to his place that night.

Just like Wolfgang said I would, I slept my way to the next stepping stone on the way to everything I wanted.

I wondered if there was any way not to do the same in New York.

It felt like the cruelest joke, to finally start trusting again, feeling again, wanting again — and then have the person at the center of all that betray me worse than the one who’d put up the walls in the first place. I was sick when I thought of it, hence my lack of appetite since that night. I trusted Reese. I thought he was different.

And yes, maybe he was right.

Maybe I loved him.

But it was a lie, a fake love, one that couldn’t possibly be real — not when he loved Charlie still, and not when he would even consider that getting me a connection in New York was what I was after the night I undressed for him.

I clutched the next dress from the box between my hands, remembering the power I felt when I stood in his dark bedroom, peeling my jacket off first before I slipped my dress overhead. I’d felt so wanted, so desired, so respected — and now, I only felt na?ve.

I was only good for one thing.

That’s what Wolfgang had said, over and over again as he raped me. He’d wanted me to know it. He’d wanted me to remember it forever.

You’re only good for one thing.

I thought I’d proved him wrong before. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

“Sweetie,” Mom said from the bed. I glanced at her through blurred eyes, and when two tears snuck loose, slipping over my cheeks, my mom frowned more.

I shook my head, swiping the wetness away. “Sorry. I guess I’m just emotional.”

“Come here,” Mom said, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

I dropped the dress in my hand, crawling on top of the puffy comforter with a sigh as I sat next to her. We both leaned our backs against the wall, and as soon as I kicked my feet out, Mom grabbed the crystal around her neck.

It was the same as mine.

She squeezed it, eyeing the one around my neck until I did the same, and as soon as my fingers folded around it, I felt the relief. It was like an instant release of anxiety, a flood of peace, and I inhaled a deep breath, trying to seal the feeling in.

“You’re not sad about leaving for New York,” she mused.

I shook my head.

“But, you’re not happy about it, either, are you?”

At that, my bottom lip trembled so hard I had to bite down on it to keep from crying. I shook my head again, still holding the crystal around my neck.

“Talk to your mother,” she pleaded, shifting until her shoulder was against the wall, the frame of her body facing me. She reached one hand out, resting it on my knee before giving it a light squeeze. “Even if it doesn’t make sense, just start talking.”