Richard Pruitt was crumbling. And for some reason it made me more terrified than ever. Was he scared of the monster he created too?
But then the smell hit me harder than it had last night. My mother’s perfume. I took a deep breath and my dad looked up.
He turned away from me, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he said and stood up. “I was just looking for a journal for you to write in like Dr. Wilson suggested.” He picked a journal up off the couch he’d been sitting on.
“What is this?” I walked into the room. It was stuff from a lifetime ago. The couch had a hole in it and was worn from use. Outdated clothes hung on a rack. There was a crochet blanket folded on an end table. I swallowed hard. My mom loved to crochet. And her smell. It was everywhere. It was like I’d walked into the past. Where my mom was still alive. I looked up at Mr. Pruitt.
He was looking down at the journal in his hands. I looked behind me at the completely empty, stark apartment. The stuff in here could have filled this place. It would have made it warm and homey.
“When we were together, your mom lived here,” Mr. Pruitt said.
“You kept all her stuff?”
“Just the things she left behind.”
The things she left when you paid her to have an abortion. Maybe I should have been mad at him. But how could I be when I thought I just lost every possession my mom ever had? My Keds and her favorite blue dress were in a disgusting abandoned parking lot. This room held so much of her. Pieces of her I never even knew about. I looked down at the squirrel pajamas. They were hers. That’s why they smelled like her. I blinked away my tears. “Does anyone else know about this apartment?”
“Just a few members of our staff.”
I reached out and touched the blanket. “So not your wife or Isabella?”
He shook his head. “No. This was your mother’s place. I couldn’t bring them here.”
My mom had lived here. Probably thinking she and my dad had a future. He’d said my mother didn’t know he was married. She was waiting for him. Starting their lives without realizing he’d never be hers. “Why didn’t you sell it when she left?”
He tapped the journal against his thigh. “I thought she might come back.”
I pressed my lips together. He still loved her. It felt comforting to know that I wasn’t the only one missing her every day. “And what about now? That she’s gone?”
“I kind of thought you might want it.”
He wanted me to live here? Tucked away? Hidden like he’d hidden my mother from his family? I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly cold. “Did you bring other women here? After my mom left?”
He lowered his eyebrows. “No. Brooklyn, I loved your mom. I never made a habit of straying from my responsibilities. She was…she was it for me.” He looked down at the journal in his hands. “But I understand if you don’t want it.”
“I want it.” Of course I wanted it. It felt like my mom was here with me.
“Yeah?” He looked up.
“Mhm.” I bit the inside of my lip. “Does that mean you don’t want me to come back to your home?”
He smiled. “Our home, princess. No, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m adding extra security measures. And hiring a few new staff members.”
My mind instantly went to Miller. Was my dad replacing people? Or just adding more members because he was worried about my safety?
“But I’ll want you to stay here for a little while until everything’s done. If that’s okay with you?”
I nodded.
“It’ll just be a few days. But I need to make sure I can keep you safe before you return.” He handed me the journal that he’d been holding. “Speaking of which, make sure you keep that journal Dr. Wilson requested. Just in case we can pinpoint something else that’s causing you to stress.”
He didn’t want it to be Isabella. But it was. I held the journal to my chest, comforted by the fact that it had belonged to my mom, even if she’d never used it. I nodded my head. “Is Kennedy awake?”
“Yes, and she’s already back with Mrs. Alcaraz. She doesn’t remember much about last night, which is probably for the best. But she’ll be okay. I’ll have Dr. Wilson check up on her again today.”
“And what about Matt?” I had kind of been expecting him to be here when I woke up.
My dad put his hands in his pockets. “I sent for Matthew like you asked, but when he arrived he was so inebriated that I wouldn’t let him up here to our apartment.”