Lenny gives me an incredulous look, but I ignore it, silently imploring my mum to continue. She blows out a breath, opening her mouth to speak, but I grow impatient and cut her off again.
“How in the bloody hell did you know I was here? How did you even get inside?” I glance around, noting that none of the broken glass appears to have come from any entrance points. Another thought occurs to me, and I recall the flashlight I found on the porch. “Have you been stalking me?”
Licking her lips, she shakes her head. It’s a fraction of a movement because of the way she’s being held, but I see the denial, nonetheless. “I didn’t know.”
“So, what? You just showed up randomly after all this time, and it happened to be while I’m staying here?”
“In two decades, I’ve never seen you step foot inside, so how was I supposed to know today would be any different?”
Everything else in my world slows down, crawling to an abrupt halt. I stare at her, trying to place her presence on the island, but come up short.
“What do you mean, you’ve never seen me come inside?” Taking a step away from the couch, I toy with the bracelet on my wrist, something pinching in my chest. “How would you know what I’ve been doing?”
The room gets silent. So much so that I can hear the waves outside slapping against the sand, even through the thick glass windowpanes. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, anxiety and despair coming together like a tsunami in my veins, making it difficult to breathe or swallow or think.
Lenny shifts, discomfort evident in the tension on her face.
My mum exhales, wiggling her fingers where they’re pinned by my fake fiancée’s knees. “I never really left you, sirts.”
Sharp, irrefutable pain shoots across my middle, nearly doubling me over with its force.
“Really?” A laugh tumbles out of me, but it doesn’t sound normal, even to me. It’s low, forced, and painful on the exit. “Because I don’t recall seeing you. Or hearing from you. In fact, what I do remember is calling you over and over and over for weeks after you left, until your line was disconnected. I remember writing letters until my fingers were calloused and my knuckles were blue, only to have every single envelope returned to sender.”
Fire rages in my throat, making my words come out strained and broken. Singed, the way she left my heart and soul years ago.
“I remember attending Dad’s funeral alone, even though everyone swore you’d show up. ‘Oh, Mileena loved your father more than anything. She’ll be there.’” The memory tastes acidic on my tongue, but I spit it out anyway. “And I thought, okay. Surely if she loved Dad as much as everyone says, she’ll be there.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I laugh again, just to keep my hands idle. What I really want is to walk over and wrap them around her throat, then squeeze until my heart stops cracking.
“Sirts,” she whispers, somehow equally as broken, as if she has any right to be.
I point a finger at her. “No. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t get to show up and reinsert yourself back into my life, or even exist on the outskirts. Get the fuck out of this house.”
Taking that as her cue, Lenny scrambles to her feet and comes over to me. She stands at my side, not touching, but close enough that the warmth of her seeps into my skin, like a balm to the coarse parts of my soul.
My mum pushes into a sitting position, draping her forearms over her knees. The hoodie she has on sports a small tear at the hip, and I wonder if it was there before her altercation with Lenny.
“Unfortunately, I won’t be leaving.”
“No? That’s fine, I have no qualms against taking out the rubbish.”
Starting around the sofa with malice directing my movements, I grab her bicep and begin pulling her to her feet. She doesn’t even struggle, coming right up like the delicate little weed she is, but when I move toward the back door, she resists.
My nostrils flare. “I don’t think you want to test me, Mileena. I’m not the little boy you abandoned years ago.”
“I know,” she whispers, and I hate how disappointed she sounds. Hate that it seems to cut me open, slicing through my heart even though I don’t want it to.
Pushing my tongue against my cheek, I give a curt nod. “Great. So, leave.”
“This is my house, Jonas. I’m the owner, the title’s in my name, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’ve got to be kid—” Biting off the end of that sentence, I pinch the bridge of my nose and release her. My entire body hums with pent-up fury, begging to be released.
From behind the sofa, Lenny clears her throat. “Maybe we should give your mom a chance to settle in. You know, without anyone trying to kill her.”
“Let her settle in?” Exasperation bleeds from my tone. “She’s not a bloody houseguest, love. Just a pest.”
“If you try to remove me, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Jaw clenched, I stare at Mileena until my vision blurs, red with the rage of a son who grew up without his mum, just for her to return out of the blue and begin demanding things from him. A boy whose mum apparently stuck around enough to watch him grow but didn’t bother reaching out.
Perhaps a man better than me would be rejoicing that she’s come back at all, but all her presence does is remind me that she left in the first place. Took off in the middle of the night without even so much as a note saying goodbye.
It devastated my father. Drove him to be reckless and stupid, especially when it came to his involvement with the Primroses.
If not for the blanketed distraction that my mum’s abandonment caused, perhaps my father would still be alive now to see her return.
My stomach flips, bile pressing at the base of my throat.
He’d have been ecstatic.
“Fine.” Throwing my hands up, I shrug and step away from her. “You stay, I’ll leave.”
“Jonas—”
But I turn without waiting to hear more, bolting up the stairs and heading for the bedroom to take off my boots and jacket. Carding my hands through my hair, I tug at the ends, slivers of pain radiating on my scalp as some of the strands get yanked out.
Soft, delicate footsteps sound on the stairs, and then the scent of vanilla fills the air. I suck in a deep breath, inhaling her right to my lungs and wishing I could streamline her into my veins.
“I can’t believe you told me she was de—”
Whirling around, I lunge at Lenny, pushing the door closed as I shove her up against it. She squeaks, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist as my arms bracket her head in place.
“Dead to me still counts,” I say, pressing our foreheads together.
Her hands come to my face, fingers cupping my jaw. “Not really.”
Annoyed, and quickly growing more agitated by the second, I palm the base of her skull and crush my mouth to hers. My tongue forces its way inside, sweeping over her teeth and tangling with hers, warring for dominance. She lets out a tiny moan at the intrusion, and the vibration from it surges straight to my cock, which I grind into her.
When she breaks away, she’s breathless. “Jonas, we should probably talk about this.”