Chapter Thirty-Five

The Sting Ray makes a worrying soundwhen I slam the door shut. That's enough to make me realize I need to calm the fuck down before I drive away. With my hands on the steering wheel, I force myself to take long and deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. It doesn't help that Gen's fancy perfume still lingers in the confined space.

What the fuck just happened? Did Gen really expect me to stay and sit like a well-trained dog? The only way that was happening was if her bitch of a mother left, which wasn't something I could demand.

Sitting through dinner and watching Gen's fucked up dynamic with her parents had been hard enough, but seeing the way she allowed them to treat her… Her father didn't care for what she had to say, something I'd easily noticed because any time she spoke, he either cut her off or began another conversation with his son. But while his indifference was insulting, it was her mother's behavior that I despised the most. Vivienne never missed an opportunity to bring Gen down, often under the pretense of being a caring mother. But there's nothing motherly or caring about that woman.

My hands tighten around the leather, my knuckles turning white. Gen is an intelligent woman, probably the smartest I've ever met, so how can she be so clueless about this? About them? How can she not see that this fucked up relationship is beyond toxic?

I suppose she does see it, but she accepts it, thinking she deserves to be guilt-tripped for the rest of her life.

I'm still angry as my eyes travel to the building's entrance. This was supposed to be a simple, easy dinner with her brother and his family. Maybe I should have bitten my tongue and stayed like she wanted. Maybe I shouldn't have left her alone with them, without anyone to support and defend her. But she made her choice, didn't she? She chose them.

Something moves in the lit-up entry hall of the building, and my heart jumps in my chest. Could it be her? Is she coming after me?

A couple comes through the large glass door, dressed up for whatever party they are attending. My hopes turn into bitter disappointment. She's still up there with them, sticking to her decision.

Five minutes. I'll give her five minutes and then leave. She deserves at least that.

I count to three hundred, using that time to calm down. And then I count for another three hundred seconds. When I finish this time, I accept that she's not coming down. She's choosing her mother. Not me.

The drive back to Brooklyn is a blur. I replay the evening in my head, feeling hollow inside. How the fuck can Gen descend from those people? It makes no sense that she became the incredible person she is despite growing up under their thumb. But then, she was an entirely different person when I first met her, wasn't she?

She was a haughty snob, so shocked by my appearance that she tried to weasel out of it. It was through time and dedication that I unearthed the woman I've come to know and love. So, maybe I should have guessed the kind of people her parents would be.

When I reach the floor of my loft, I can hear the commotion on the roof. The guys left the staircase door open, and music as well as voices reach me. Fuck, I forgot about this.

I don't feel like joining Eli and Kill up there, so I pull out my keys and unlock my door. I need some time alone with my dog, gathering my thoughts and figuring out what the fuck I'll do now.

"Mull?" I call out as I enter the dark flat. The glow of the streetlights through the large windows is enough for me to notice the stillness of the space. Mulligrubs isn't here, meaning Eli probably took her up there.

I kick the door closed behind me, not flicking the lights on. Once my jacket is thrown on a chair by the entrance, I walk up to the liquor cabinet. I pick up the first bottle and wince when I discern the label. It's the whiskey Gen and I enjoyed when we sampled a few bottles for The Devil's Court.

I don't bother grabbing a glass and go to the couch, where I slump down. Once the cap's off, I drink up a few mouthfuls, the amber liquor burning my throat. It'll soon do its magic, and the pain that won't leave my chest, right under my left ribs, will eventually be numbed by it. And those reruns of our fight will stop playing in my mind over and over again.

The dark stillness that surrounds me is punctuated by the noises that come through the ceiling. It sounds like they're having fun up there, but I don't feel like joining them. Pretending all is fine around friends and colleagues is above my strength.

There's no one I can talk to about this. The guys wouldn't understand, and I'm pretty sure whatever advice they'd come up with would be shit. It's rare for me to miss my mum, but at that moment, I wish she were still around. She'd know exactly what to say, how to make me feel better, and what I should do with this mess. Mum was always patient and soft, and she used to give the best advice.

A question I've been asking myself a few times resurfaces. Would she have liked Gen? The two are very different, and while Mum would have been happy that I found my one person in this world, I can't decide if she would have genuinely liked her. In return, I know that Gen would have loved Mum. She would have seen what a true mother should be like, and she would have understood that Vivienne Kensington isn't worth all the ache she puts herself through.

It's like my whole body jump-starts when my phone vibrates, about twenty minutes and fifteen gulps of whiskey later. Is it her?

I quickly take my phone out of my back pocket to look at the caller ID. Disappointment strikes yet again when I see the words "Aunt Maggie" instead of "My Favorite Redhead." With a sigh, I throw the phone to the side and take another couple of sips.

Gen will come around. She's too clever to let her mother break us up.

The call goes to voicemail, but it starts ringing again moments later. A look to the side informs me it's still my aunt. She rarely insists like this, so I pick up the phone with a frown. I do some quick math as I take the call. It's around noon in Brisbane, so it's not a middle-of-the-night kind of emergency.

"Hey, Mags," I greet her, bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hi, Jakey! I hope I'm not interrupting your celebrations."

"No, it's good. I just got home."

"Isn't it a little early for you?"

The hint of judgment in her tone makes me chuckle. "Things didn't go as planned, so I cut my evening short."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, love. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. What about you? Everything fine down under?"

"Yeah, all good. I just wanted to let you know that the first check will be a little delayed. We had some water damage, so we spent more than we intended in June."

Well, at least I know that stubbornness runs in my genes. I hold back a groan, sitting up straight. "Mags, I already told you there was no need to pay me back."

"We want to."

"And I don't want you to. That money was a gift, my way of repaying you and Uncle Keith. You welcomed me into your home when I had nobody else, and you stuck by me even when I was being a little shithead."

"We said we would reimburse you," she insists.

"Seriously, Maggie. You've got enough going on with the new house and all the repairs. Don't make me call my bank to ask them to bounce your checks."

There's nothing for a moment, and then I vaguely hear her talk to someone in the room with her. But it's muffled by her hand on the phone, so I can't tell who answers. This continues for a few seconds, and then she returns her attention to me. "Keith suggested we finish the remodeling, and once we're financially stable, we'll start the payments."

I roll my eyes, holding back another sigh. "Fine, let's do that," I concede. This will be a problem for future me, who hopefully won't have had as much whiskey.

"In the meantime, do you want us to make you another care box?" she offers.

That brings an unexpected smile to my lips. We've done this a handful of times in the past thirteen years since I left Australia. She fills a box with all sorts of lollies and snacks from my motherland, the kind of stuff I grew up with, and sends it to me all the way in New York. The last one was a couple of years ago, and I have since found a specialized grocery store that sells all those things right here in the States.

But I know how much she enjoys sending me those boxes, so I say, "I'd love that, Mags. Can you put some extra Strawberry Clouds in there? And strawberry-flavored Dairy Milk Snacks, too. I know someone who'd love them."

"Really? Is it your friend who ate all the Sour Ears last time? Killian, was it?"

"No, it's—" I hesitate, wondering if now's the right time to let her know about Gen. I haven't done it yet, and tonight doesn't feel appropriate. "Her name's Genevieve," I end up saying, anyway. Margaret is the closest thing I have to a mother, and I need maternal advice.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. We met about three months ago."

"Jakey, that's incredible! Keith and I were wondering if you'd ever settle down."

"Well, I didn't plan on it until she came along."

"Sometimes it just hits you in the face. You can't help it. But that means she's a great one," Maggie confidently says.

I nod. "She is. She's fucking phenomenal. But she's also extremely complicated."

"How so?"

"She's got this fucked up relationship with her parents. Drives me nuts that she can't see it."

Maggie says nothing, so silent that I check my phone to see if we were cut off. "You know, your mum and I were in that kind of situation growing up," she carefully reminds me. "Our dad would beat us for the damndest things, and Mum… Well, let's just say we had the imprint of her hands on us more than a few times. When you're in that situation, you rationalize, thinking you deserve the slap for burning Dad's toast or to be locked in a closet for spilling Mum's expensive perfume. But it was easy for us to recognize the abuse because we were the only ones in school with bruises. So, as soon as I turned eighteen, I decided to move out and take my baby sister with me. There was no way I'd leave her alone with them."

"I know she was thankful for that," I tell Maggie. "She used to tell me how she would forever owe you."

"Leaving her behind was never even an option. But she didn't want to go at first. She was only twelve, and she thought our parents loved us in their own twisted way, so she refused to leave. I stuck around for a little longer because that was all I could do for her—be there for her, support her, protect her. Then, one day, Dad went too far and broke your mum's arm in two places. I called the Department of Child Safety that afternoon and got custody of her. After that, we left Sydney for Brisbane and never looked back."

We rarely talk about Mum because the topic is a sour one. I vaguely knew about her and my aunt's rough childhood, but I never knew all that. It's painful to know that my mum, that sweet angel, went through so much. And when she was finally out, she got pregnant young from a cunt who didn't want the responsibility of raising me. And then it all stopped because of a pulmonary embolism in the back of a bus on her way home from a long shift at the hospital.

Not being able to give her the life she deserved will forever be my biggest regret.

"I don't know what the situation is with Genevieve and her parents," Maggie continues, her voice laced with care, "but I know how hard it can be to rip yourself out of an abusive situation. Don't judge her too harshly, and be there for her. She needs you, just like your mum needed me back then. I don't know what they would have done to her if I'd left her with them. But I will never regret staying until she was ready to take that leap with me."

"I'm thankful you did, Mags."

"Of course you are. You wouldn't exist otherwise," she says with humor.

I chuckle. "I guess I wouldn't, no."

I hear Keith calling her in the background, and after a brief conversation between them, Maggie refocuses on me. "I'm sorry, Jakey, I have to go help your uncle. We're having a barbie with the kids and a few mates who've been helping us out."

"Yeah, of course. Let me know how much the parcel costs for the lollies. And do not send me a check. I'll send it back. But let me know if you need more money for the repairs. I'd be happy to help."

"Thank you, my boy. I think we'll be good. Feel free to come and visit us to see what your money bought, yeah?"

She always tries to get me to fly down there, and I'm surprised it took her this long to bring it up. "Sure thing, Mags. Say hi to Keith for me. And to the cousins."

"Will do. Bye, Jakey."

We hang up, and I throw my phone to the side again. When I look around, the dark loft seems desperately empty. I'm feeling slightly better, but not enough to join all the ruckus up there. My head falls back onto the couch's backrest as I slouch on it, and I stare at the beams on the ceiling. My aunt's words run through my head, over and over again.

Be there for her. Support her. Protect her.

That's what I need to do, isn't it? Be there for Gen, no matter how much I hate her relationship with her parents. She needs me, because if I'm not there to love her unconditionally, who will?

I'm slowly coming to terms with what it means—that I'll have to bite my tongue every time we meet with her parents or bear seeing her be put down by her mother—when the door opens. The music from the staircase fills the room, and a masculine silhouette comes in.

From where I sit, I don't have to move to recognize Eli. He navigates the darkness with ease and follows the same path I did when I arrived, all the way to the liquor cabinet. He opens both doors and crouches down to take out some random bottles. For some, he takes a vague look at the label, either putting it with the others or returning it to the cabinet.

When he gets up and starts stacking the bottles between his arm and chest, I decide that's enough.

"Are you fuckers already out of booze?" I ask from my armchair.

He jumps with surprise but doesn't drop the bottles. "Jake, you asshole… You scared me half to death," he says, turning around to find me in the dark. "What are you doing here? Where's Gen?"

"I left her at her brother's."

"Is everything alright?" he wonders, stepping closer.

"Yeah," I lie.

"Then why are you sitting in the dark like some James Bond villain? Is Gen joining us later?"

"I don't know. What are you doing with my liquor?"

"Well, there might be a couple hundred people up there instead of twenty."

"What?"

"Yeah, someone posted a story on Instagram, and things got out of hand."

"Was that someone you?" I caustically ask, raising a brow at him.

"Might have been, yeah. Anyhow, I already used all my booze, and I thought I'd come get yours."

"You do know we have a bar filled with liquor two blocks away, right?"

"That is way too far for me, my brother."

"Lazy twat. Put my shit back, and I'll go get a couple of crates at the Court."

He smiles, looking way too victorious for my liking. "Great. Can you buy snacks as well? Chips, pretzels, Doritos, crackers, pizza rolls… Anything, really. I'm fucking starving."

"I literally prepared everything for tonight, and you two wankers still managed to botch it?" I ask, a little more irritated than I should be.

"Like I said, it blew out of proportion. Plus, someone came with edibles, and Kill and I are completely out of it."

"You're high?"

"Like fucking kites. We hid a few gummy bears in his pocket for you. Which I guess was inspired, because you look like you need to relax."

That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. With a grunt, I push myself out of the armchair and take a few bottles from Eli to help him put them back in the cabinet. Then, I send him back to the party and go change into something more comfortable than this fucking suit.

Even though I don't like it, I know what I need to do about Gen. I'll stick around, like Maggie did with Mum. I'll be there for her for as long as I can. It might drive me to an early grave, but she's worth it. Given her growth since we met, I'm confident she will soon open her eyes and do something about the situation. My sexy redhead isn't the type to take shit from anyone.

And I fucking love her for it.