Chapter Twenty-Four

Three months later.

You are getting up there and opening this lock, Hallie Thorne.

I gave myself a pep talk, swinging the entrance door to my Westwood building.

Perhaps an apartment was a big name for what I was renting. The property was a two-story house that had been converted into four studio apartments—two on the first floor and two on the second. Details were dicey regarding the legality of this arrangement, but it was a safe enough neighborhood, and the rent was dirt cheap.

Leaning my secondhand bike against the wall in the dank hallway, I looked to the carpeted stairway leading up to my apartment with a sigh.

“The lock is not going to give you trouble,” I repeated sternly to myself, aloud this time.

Yes, it will. It always did. It took me twenty minutes to open my apartment every day. But I wasn’t in a position to bargain with my landlord, and living with Keller was something we were both growing to hate. I did not approve of his random hookups that never called and always grabbed the last La Croix can from the fridge before they slipped out.

He, on the other hand, was tired of someone occupying his living room and using all the hot water in the shower.

Stomping my way up, I brushed my fingers over the walls. My finger pads were so calloused, so worn-out from work, feeling any pressure against them felt good. My phone danced in my pocket, signaling a text message, and for the thousandth time, I took it out, hoping I might be seeing Ransom’s name.

Keller: Hey honey, good news. Derryck from the café across the street needs his place cleaned three times a week. Should I give him your number? X

I typed a quick yup and continued my journey upstairs.

For a while, I saw Ransom everywhere. At the discount supermarket I frequented. At the bike shop. At the movie theater, whenever I went with Keller, and even at the tattoo parlor where I interned.

Since I hadn’t been able to find any part-time job—Keller’s guess was that every time people saw my name on a résumé they assumed it was a prank—I had to resort to cleaning Main Squeeze and the joint next to it, a dispensary called High Fashion, every night. It paid the bills—sort of. And maybe it was the weed fumes, but I could swear I’d seen Ransom there, too.

But in the last few days, the situation had improved. I would find myself not thinking about him for an entire hour, sometimes even two. When my head hit the pillow, exhaustion won the war against heartbreak, and I was able to sleep instead of obsess over him—what was he doing? Who was he with? Did he think about me, too?

It was true, what they said. A life of hard work kept you out of trouble…and away from sin.

After all, I’d done the right thing. Ransom had never really cared about me. That was why he found it so easy to stay away.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I was so exhausted from my shift at the tattoo shop that I collapsed onto my door with a groan. Only, my body wasn’t met with a mass of hard wood. I fell on something softer…and definitely curvier.

“Bunny, you look like hell!” my mother greeted me in her signature, Julianne Thorne way.

Pulling back, I stumbled until my back hit the opposite wall, blinking. I was immediately alert. In front of me stood Dad, Hera, and Mom. No bodyguards. No security detail. For a moment, I was tempted to bark at them to go back to Texas. But then I remembered something Ilona had told me last week.

“You can’t stay away from your family forever. Even though they’re imperfect, and your feelings are valid, they still love you and care deeply about you in their own way. Don’t give up on them before you try to turn your relationship around.”

“W—what are you doing here?” I wrestled the words out of my mouth. Barely.

“It’s time we talk,” my father said, softly but sternly. It was his no-nonsense tone, and I hadn’t heard it in so long. I’d missed it, I realized foolishly. I missed his tough love. I missed his any-kind-of-love.

“We haven’t talked since that awful day when you came to Texas for a few hours. Since…” Mom drew a shaky breath, stopping midsentence.

Since I made it clear I did not consider them family after overlooking Craig’s behavior toward me.

But I’d made some progress since. I’d realized that maybe they weren’t the ones I should be angry at for that particular offense. They had their faults—they tampered with my life, with my decisions, with my well-being, and clipped my wings, putting me in a nice, golden cage. But as Ilona pointed out in one of our many sessions, they were not maliciously abusive, even if abuse did occur. And Craig’s assaults happened discreetly enough not to provoke any suspicion from them.

I swung my gaze to Hera, popping an eyebrow. “Where’s your husband?”

I already knew the answer. For once in my life, I was the snarky sister.

Hera pursed her lips, looking down. “He’s living at his parents’ now. He posted bail shortly after he got arrested.”

“Probably the first time he had to feel any sort of discomfort in his life.”

“Are you going ahead with the trial?” my sister asked.

Smiling demurely, I said, “Contrary to popular belief, I always finish what I start.”

“We’re getting a divorce,” Hera blurted out.

“Of course.” I remained unaffected. “It’s bad publicity to stay with him after what happened. Lots of headlines.”

“Is that what you think?” Hera’s mouth hung open.

I shrugged.

“Look, Hallie, we would love to talk to you inside, in privacy.” This was Dad, looking so lost, so out of his natural habitat, a pang of sorrow actually prickled at my skin. I’d never seen him so out of sorts.

I didn’t think my apartment had enough space for all of us, but I shoved my key into the lock anyway. I started messing with it when it got stuck. With a huff, I explained, “It’s a tricky one.”

Dad stepped into my personal space, taking over, holding the handle and the key. “The secret is you have to pull the handle toward you as you shove the key as deep as you can before turning.” He pushed the door open effortlessly.

With a skeptical frown, I asked, “How did you know that?”

“I worked for a locksmith all summer, every summer when I was a teenager.”

“I had no idea.”

“That’s because I hardly ever spoke to you girls about anything of importance. I’d like to change that. Now, come.”

We all filed into my living room. I didn’t make any apologies for the size of my apartment or the state of it. Or the fact the couch looked like it had seen better days—in the nineties.

Mom and Hera sat on my tiny couch, while Dad took the only stool by the breakfast nook. I landed on my twin-sized bed.

Dad looked between Hera and Mom. I always felt like they were a team, independent from me in every way, shape, and form. It seemed that way now, too. Like they spoke a secret language through their eyes alone.

“I’ll start,” Dad said decisively, when both Mom and Hera looked away, embarrassed. “The entire family owes you an apology, Hallie. And I think the right time to give you that apology was the day you came to Texas to tell us about Craig. We were so shell-shocked, so angry—at him, at ourselves—that the tragedy was clouded by rage. By the time we got our heads straight, digested everything that was said, that was done, you refused to take any of our calls. Ransom advised us to stay away—”

At the mention of his name, my heart gave a leap. But my face did not twitch. “And, well, we gave you some space. We kept calling, but we didn’t barge in. Until it became apparent that you wanted nothing to do with us—probably for good. Am I right here, Sugar Pie? Do you not want anything to do with us?”

Yes. No. Maybe?

“It’s complicated,” I said finally. “Your presence here doesn’t only remind me of what happened with Craig and went undetected. For me, you symbolize my loss of independence. Or my never really gaining it in the first place. All the lies, the cover-ups about my dyslexia…the way you substitute your love and affection for me with mansions and designer bags…I’m mad at you. I’m angry at myself for letting it happen. And I’m not finished being angry.”

“Fair.” Dad rubbed his jaw. “We’re not going to push you to do anything you’re not ready for. But we have some things to say before we leave here. First of all, I’d like to apologize. This is a blanket statement, Hallie, so listen carefully. I apologize for not being present when I should have. For making the wrong decisions when you were too young to make them for yourself. For hurting you in my bid to protect you. For drowning you in material things instead of attention. For being absent, and focused on myself, on my career, when life began to unravel for you. For letting it spin out of control the way it did. Most of all,” he sucked in a breath, his lower lip quivering slightly, “I apologize for not being the father you deserved.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop. The place was so small our knees touched together. It was ridiculous to see all these powerful people sitting in a nine hundred dollar a month studio.

“My turn.” Mom wiped the corner of her eye, an embarrassed chuckle on her lips. “I would like to apologize, too. I suspect my role has played a big part in how you’re feeling right now. I’d been…so obsessed with my place in this world, with my title, with what I wanted to achieve, that I completely neglected you. Both of you.” She looked at Hera, too.

“Only with Hera, it was…different. She stayed close. She didn’t want to live far away. She sought my attention and advice actively, so it was easier to form a closer relationship with her. I foolishly believed if I gave you your space, you’d come to me eventually. That we would have a relationship. A part of me even resented you—my own daughter—for your lack of interest in me and my accomplishments. Instead of trying to figure out a way to you, I was waiting for you to find a way to me. I am so sorry. I never meant to cause you harm. I genuinely believed putting you through some tests that would label you a certain way would harm your self-esteem, not elevate it. I trusted in my way with such conviction, I couldn’t imagine, for a moment, a scenario where I could be wrong. I am so sorry, Hallie. If you just give me the chance, I know I can make the situation better. For both of us. Start over fresh.”

Again, I said nothing. It was a lot to process. My gaze was pinned on Hera. She was the only one who hadn’t said anything. A part of me didn’t think she would. Hallmark movies aside, people didn’t usually have epiphanies. Light bulb moments or defining points where they suddenly knew what to say and what to do. And recognizing your own errors was especially hard.

Cautiously, Hera opened her mouth. But instead of an apology, something else entirely came out.

“I hate my life.”

The words rang around the room, seeping into the walls.

“I’ve always hated my life,” she said, sitting a little straighter. “I’ve taken the opposite path from you, Hallie. You were always about making your own mark in the world, living your life as you saw fit, exploring who you are. I only wanted to be a part of the Thorne legacy. I wanted to become someone Mom and Dad would be proud of. But on my way to it, I forgot to figure out who I really was.”

She didn’t look at any of us but continued talking as if in some sort of a trance.

“I went to med school because it looked great on paper. I dated Craig because the story was amazing—childhood sweethearts, ski vacations together from age nine. I stuck around Mom and Dad, even though I missed the East Coast every day. I wanted to be the perfect one. The good one. And I paid a terrible price for it. But I think, out of all the damage I’ve done…” She licked her lips, her eyes glittering unshed tears. “The most awful was that somewhere along the way, I became a horrible person. A person who didn’t care about anything but her image. A monster that fed on its own misery. I’m really sorry, Hallie. You didn’t deserve this. Not the bad treatment, or my doubt, or my attitude. I’d been horrible to you in the past, for no other reason than wanting to be the best and hating the competition. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let my insecurities ruin everything.”

This was the time to say something important and profound. But I couldn’t find the words. So…I said nothing.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes. I used the time to get used to their presence.

Hera spoke first, wiping at her wet eyes.

“Gosh, this is awkward. Let’s grab something to eat. I didn’t eat any of the private plane food. It looked like it had sat in the fridge for years.”

It put a smile on my face, despite my best efforts.

“Bunny, do you know a place?” Mom asked.

“Well, yes, but it’s vegetarian.”

“All the better.” Dad stood up. “Getting tired of all that red meat.”

I took them to an Indian restaurant, where I ate my weight in Chole, rice, and baked samosas. I enjoyed the food so much I wanted to weep. I hadn’t eaten out in weeks. Maybe months. Fine dining had become a luxury I couldn’t afford.

My family must’ve picked up on the rabid animal vibes, because my dad patted the corners of his mouth clean, pretending like it wasn’t a huge deal that he was here, in this little neighborhood restaurant with no less than three secret service agents watching us.

“You know, you can always get an allowance from us. It doesn’t have to be an extravagant one.”

“No, thank you.” I set my fork down onto the table, too full to breathe. “I won’t take your money, but…” I glanced between the three members of my truly screwed-up family. “I’ll share your company. Maybe. Baby steps and all.”

Hera smiled. “Baby steps.”

“So…” Dad cleared his throat. “Are we going to talk about the kidnapping scare?”

Eh. I hadn’t discussed it with anyone, other than the police for a statement and some follow-up questions. Weirdly—or maybe not so weirdly—I wasn’t even worried about being a target. Traumatized—yes. It was pretty horrible to go through all that. But not scared. I knew the incident had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Ransom. And besides, everyone who took part in the kidnapping operation was locked up and awaiting trial on hefty charges. I heard the DA was stitching up an airtight case against Kozlov.

“It was barely two hours,” I minimized.

“Still,” Dad said. “I cannot imagine what you went through in those hours.”

“It wasn’t the highlight of my life. No.” I became cagey and uncooperative. I knew where the conversation was going.

“Ransom saved the day,” Mom stated. I didn’t reply. “Yet…you decided it was best you part ways with him. How come?”

“It was more of a mutual decision,” I lied, searching desperately for the waiter so I could signal for the check. “He wanted to go back to Chicago, and this happened on the heels of everything with you guys, and I just…I wanted to be alone. Completely alone. And the only reason I’d ever agreed to have him babysit me in the first place was because I depended on your money. Which is not the case anymore.”

It was also one of the reasons why I would never take a dime from them again. The feeling attached to it made my skin crawl.

Mom nodded. “You seemed to have gotten along fine.”

Hera tried to catch my gaze. I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about him. His name alone did awful, delicious things to my stomach, even now. I hated how I missed him. Missed him despite everything.

“I rolled with the punches,” I said finally.

“I met with him the other day,” Dad said conversationally. I felt his gaze on my face, and I couldn’t help it. I broke down and peered at him, every cell in my body thirsty to hear more.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded. “He is opening a cybersecurity department. I promised I’d help him.”

“I hope he’s doing well,” I said cautiously. I meant every word of it. I did hope he was well. Even if it was without me.

“He’s a hard guy to read.”

“Hmm.”

“He asked about you.” Dad picked up his glass. Swirled the imported beer inside it. My heart raced dangerously.

“Yeah?” My voice was high-pitched. Different.

“I told him I had no idea. That you cut us all off.”

“And how did he respond?” I no longer tried to feign indifference.

Dad stared ahead, pinning me with a look. “He looked proud.”

“You had something special with this man, didn’t you?” Mom sniffed.

“Oh, Mom, shut up. This is so over the line!” I cupped my face, channeling the bratty teenager I never had the chance to be.

“I’m not saying it was romantic!” Mom screeched. “Just that you seemed to deeply care for each other. I remember him being very protective of you.”

“Uh, duh! He was my bodyguard. Can we talk about something else?”

“Yes!” Hera announced with a flourish. “Let’s talk about how I want a divorce party! One with a funny cake and empowering movies and cocktails! Cocktails with sugar in them! I want to go wild.”

I laughed.

For the first time, I felt like I had a family.

A dysfunctional, weird family.

But a family, nonetheless.