Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Ainsley

Mason stays with me for a week. We finally find a nice apartment close to campus. It's a new development with a pool, gym, and so many amenities I won't get bored. I can't move there until next month. The timing isn't ideal. Porter's tour is almost over. I don't know if he will come home or not, but I don't want to see him.

A week ago, I decided that I won't be dealing with messy feelings.

I'm shutting down my heart.

Did I mention this plan to Mason? No, I have a feeling he'll disapprove. He wants me to go to therapy and deal with the grief.

What grief?

The Dean said that there weren't any concessions for my issue. I did something stupid, and I was lucky to solve the problem before it became an issue that'd have gotten me kicked out of the school.

I don't think anyone will understand what it is to give birth to a baby who'll never cry, crawl, hug me, or call me mom.

The sorrow during those hours was bone-chilling, and after that experience I just don't want to feel. Ever again. The only person who understands my pain is Mason. I wish he had stayed. He's the last person I have left in my life—but does he count? He's always absent.

He promised to be back to help me move to the new place. It's not like he's disappearing.

Just my luck. Porter arrives three days before the big move. I'm in the music room, packing the few things that belong to me.

"AJ?" I hear his cold voice.

I stiffen. "Porter."

"We need to talk."

I don't turn to look at him and continue packing as I speak, "There's not much to say. As you can see, I'm leaving."

"So, you chose him?"

"Him?"

"The baby."

I laugh bitterly. "You won. James is gone."

"Who the fuck is James?" he growls.

"My baby," I barely whisper. "Mine. Never yours. I left you a message a week ago—when he died."

"Good, I'm glad we don't have that problem anymore," he says. "I might forgive you for your stupidity." He turns around and leaves without giving me a second glance.

Is he kidding me?

I rush behind him. "What is wrong with you? I just told you that your kid died?—"

"He wasn't anything to me, AJ. I hope you keep this between us. If your parents learn about it, I'll lose them. You'll take the only thing I have in this world." He scoffs. "You're so fucking selfish… I hope you never have to be as lonely as I am."

I stare at the door for a long time. He's kidding, isn't he?

And maybe I've been wrong all along, and my parents do love me. I pack a bag, jump in my car, and drive to my childhood home, hoping they're there.

Mason and Arthur Bradley taught me one useful skill—organizing road trips.

I stop in New Mexico, then Idaho, and finally, I arrive home. I'm tired and ready for a long nap. When I make my way inside the house, I see Porter Kendrick chatting with my parents. Chris laughs at something he says while Gabe brings food to the table.

They're pampering him, like a child who came back home after a long absence. When have they ever done that with me? Never. I needed them two weeks ago while I cried about the loss of my child. The sadness in my heart becomes anger.

Porter is the first one to notice me. He walks toward me, gives me a hug, and whispers, "Did you come to hurt me more?"

I quiver with anger. Hurt him?I push him. "Never touch me again," I say with a low voice. He's never seen me upset. I try to make everyone happy, but I'm done.

"Ainsley," Dad greets me. "What a surprise, is everything okay?"

"Do you want something to eat?" Papa asks. "We just made Porter's favorite, mac and cheese with panko and bacon bits."

Why don't you just give me cyanide, Father? I stare at him and walk to the dining room. "Favorite food in honor of what?"

"He just came home from a long tour," Papa answers proudly.

"I guess you don't have anything for me since I'm not famous… or your child."

He turns slightly red. "AJ."

"Ainsley. My name is Ainsley Janine, Papa. I might change the last name…you know, so people don't think I'm related to you"—I side eye Gabe— "Or your husband."

"AJ!" he says those two letters with a warning tone.

I touch my lips lightly. "Oops! Did I say that out loud? I'm sorry, I meant your best friend. We wouldn't want anyone to know the truth about you two."

And then, I see it.

A magazine with Porter on the cover. He's cozying up with Sky. "Love At First Song," reads the headline. Porter Kendrick and Sky a year in pictures—and songs .

My hands become fists.

Those are my songs.

Songs I gave to Porter because I thought we loved each other.

And now… if my parents knew me, they'd know those are my lyrics, my melodies. Not his.

Push the feelings away, Ainsley. You don't belong to this family. Porter never loved you, just get out.

But I can't get out before telling them how I feel.

"She's pretty. Your girlfriend?"

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Gabe asks proudly.

Of course, they approve of her. She's gorgeous and talented, unlike me. There's so much poison inside me, that I use it to hurt them. "It's always the pretty ones who get to be on the cover of a magazine. Then there's the truth that you hide. You would know, wouldn't you, Gabriel?"

"Ainse, are you okay?" Chris stares at me.

The man is a therapist. He has a PhD in psychology. Is he going to use his knowledge on me?

"Does it matter? It's not like you give a fuck about me. I could throw myself in front of a train, and you wouldn't care."

And after I say those words, I realize they're the truth. I want to throw myself in front of a train. That'll get rid of the pain. I could be free.

"Ainsley?" Chris's eyes narrow. "What does lying have to do with Porter's girlfriend?"

"Everyone lies. You two are experts. You bury the ugly truth. You erase the people who clash with your brand—and those you don't love."

"Stop," Gabe warns me.

I scoff. "Please… you're gross, Gabriel. I mean the girl you're dating is a twenty-five-year-old. You have a daughter… well, it's not like I'm yours, but your sons are twenty-one."

"I'm your father, and you know why we do that."

I laugh. "Are you my father? That's yet another lie. We look nothing alike. You don't give a flying fuck about me. When was the last time you spoke to me?" I shrug as if to say you-know-I'm-right . "We're not related. If they do a paternity test, it'll be negative. As for your husband… I don't know why you continue hiding the man who adores you and the father of your children while waltzing around with the pretty arm-candy."

"My career matters. That's what pays your school and your expenses," Gabriel's voice can be heard through the entire house.

"You can keep it. These past two weeks, I realized that I don't need either one of you. You two are a couple of fucking liars who only care about themselves." My voice rises. "Be proud of who you are."

"Ainsley Janine, stop whatever you're doing right now." Chris bangs the table hard. "This isn't you."

I smile. "You don't know who I am. You're too busy praising Porter and being proud of your twins . I pity you."

"Stop!"

I point at Gabe. "He's ashamed of you, Chris. That isn't love, is it? If you cared about me, you wouldn't offer me food that'd make me sick. You'd be concerned I just spent the past forty-eight hours on the road. It's not like it matters. It's just me, the runt of the trio."

Papa's eyes open wide. He just realizes what he did.

"Stop and apologize right now," Gabriel orders. "You're being a heartless, selfish brat."

"Telling you to be truthful is selfish? That only happens in your world. I'm done with the farce and the two of you. And to think that I drove here expecting… I have no idea what awaited me, but I'm glad that at least I can say I tried to fix the bridge between us. I just realized that there's nothing to save. You two are dead to me."

As I walk away, Gabriel yells, "Don't come back until you can act like an adult and ask for forgiveness."

I show him the middle finger. "Even if I grow up, I'll never come back."

Everything I was disappears with every step I take toward my car. The happy memories of my loving parents. I was their little girl, but I never mattered.

Weren't parents supposed to be there for their children? Love them, cuddle them, and make the boo-boos go away?

"I can be on my own , " I say, clearing the few tears rolling down my cheeks.

Pins and needles poke at my arms as I drive away. I don't stop until I make it close to Seattle. That's when I can't continue anymore, and I get out of the car crying nonstop. I wait for the wave of sadness to succumb, with fear that it won't happen.

They really didn't want me. I pick up my phone. "I…" The tears and sobs don't allow me to speak clearly. "I had a fight with my parents. They didn't want me."

"Stay where you are, Nine. I got you."

He's gone, and I've no idea if he's going to be able to find me. I don't know how much time passes, but a truck stops in front of mine. Mason jumps out and wraps my body with his strong arms.

I start crying, but then he releases me, and I'm passed to another set of arms—two. A peace I haven't felt in a long time covers me like a warm blanket. I'm in a sandwich between Matt and Jacob. My favorite kind of sandwich, and then I cry even harder.

"Why the fuck didn't you call us?" Jacob, who's the oldest of the three, grumbles. "I'm so fucking mad at you… but so fucking sorry that we let you down."

And I don't feel alone anymore.