The Peer and the Puppet (When Rivals Play, #1) (88)

I couldn’t believe it. Ever seemed almost shy as he spoke about his passion. He watched me closely as I gingerly moved around the table scanning every piece. He’d modeled what seemed like every inch of the grounds down to the very last bush. I wanted to touch it, but it seemed like one of those things you admired with your eyes only.

“How long did this take?”

“A few months. There was a bit of trial and error.”

“But you were determined as always.” I flashed him a smile that fell at his blank stare.

“She would have wanted me to.”

He moved over to the slanted table and ran his hand over the surface. “My mom bought me this drafting table when I told her I wanted to be an architect. We even talked about building my first model together.”

“What about your dad? Did he help you with this?”

With a sad smile, he picked up the discarded cloth and started arranging it over the model again. “My father was thrilled that I found something to call my own, but he was always too busy running the company.”

For a moment, he looked frustrated and angry, but then he blinked, and it was gone. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Ever never wore his heart on his sleeve. He kept it locked away in a box that put Pandora’s to shame.

“Do you think she’ll come back?”

He didn’t need to ask who I meant. “No.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I pondered the right words to say. Anyone else would offer false hope thinking he’d want to hear it. That it would cure his broken heart. Thanks to my history with mothers, I offered him something else instead. “Maybe it’s for the best. I bet it’s painful to be constantly reminded that you’re regretted.”

He was silent for so long that I wished I had just kept my mouth closed. I had no right sowing doubt in his mind about a woman I didn’t even know. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does your mother regret you, Four?”

Shame cast my eyes to the floor. I should have known he’d see right through me.

“Four?” he pressed when I said nothing.

“If the third time’s the charm, the fourth must mean tragedy because I didn’t just break Rosalyn’s heart—I broke her mind.”

He was silent for so long. Whatever he had been expecting me to say I was sure it wasn’t that. “You were the tragedy?”

I nodded. “She had three miscarriages before me. Rosalyn couldn’t understand that her body didn’t reject them simply because she didn’t love them enough, so when I was born, she suffered. The guilt, the pain it…it broke her.”

“Three miscarriages,” Ever echoed. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. “Four isn’t really a name, is it?” His horrified whisper ate at my soul.

“Not to her.”

“But why did it matter if she named you?”

“Without a name, I don’t really exist. She thought dehumanizing me would make them finally go away.”

“Them?”

“The three she lost…she hears them. When it’s really bad, she sees them.”

“If this is true, why keep you? She could have given you up.”

My stomach turned.

How many times had I wished she had?

“Rosalyn was seventeen when she ran away from home on the back some biker’s hog, and eight years later, she returned knocked up and broken. My father had been the fourth man to impregnate her and the fourth to break her heart. Nana and Pop mistook her depression and delusions for a broken heart and hormones. They were lying to themselves, but if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have survived.”

“Do you hate them for it?”

“How can I? They must have fought so fiercely for me. By the time I was born she was a full-blown schizophrenic, and so I lived the first few months of my life nameless. Nana and Pop figured once she was better she’d want to name me herself. They were wrong. I imagine it wasn’t an easy battle but they eventually convinced her. Or so they thought.”

“Did they know why she choose your name? Did they know what it would do to you?”

I drew in a shaky breath. “They knew…but Rosalyn was a minefield and they were more afraid of setting her off.”

Ever swore but didn’t say more. We both knew it was a shitty way to grow up

“I once read a pamphlet that said with a strong, loving support system Schizophrenics can lead normal, fulfilling lives.” I laughed but it was an empty sound. “I bet whoever wrote it didn’t count on Rosalyn looking for it in all the wrong places or how deep her grief welled when they made those promises. Still…she got better.”

Ever moved closer, but sensing it was space giving me courage, he kept only enough distance so that he could touch me if he chose. “And then?”

“And then I said my first word, and she relapsed.” I didn’t need to tell him what I could have said to break her. “It depressed her so much she stopped taking her pills.”

I hugged myself to calm my trembling body.

“Rosalyn recovered, but she was even more afraid of me than before.” Taking a deep breath, I willed myself not to fall apart. I’d been too young to remember much of the beginning, but life with Rosalyn was like a bad record stuck on repeat. It was easy to fill in the blanks.