Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Mom recoiled, her gaze flying toward Eva.
“I said I was sorry,” Eva muttered, picking at her cuticles. “And Vasily gave it back.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care.” I cocked my head to the side at my mother. “After all, we’re interchangeable parts in her little machine, right? Who cares which one of us is up there, as long as her last name is Rousseau.”
“Allie,” Anne warned as Mom’s water bottle crunched in her grip.
“You. Are. Rousseaus,” Mom said slowly.
“She’s gotten so much worse,” Eva whispered.
“It’s happening quickly,” Anne replied.
Mom shot them a look that dripped malice, but it was the edge of confusion that made me want to scream. Why couldn’t all this have come out last year, when we could have had real answers?
“I’m starting to hate that name.” I hated that I couldn’t tell if she really understood, hated myself for being unable to stop. For the first time, I could tell her exactly how I felt without fearing the repercussions. But without the ropes binding me to her model of perfection, my emotions whipped out with a cutting, dangerous sense of freedom that I couldn’t begin to fathom, let alone regulate.
Betrayal. Shame. Pride. Hope. Loss. Grief. Anger. They all warred for supremacy, but it was the ache in my chest that overruled them all.
“Rousseau made you.”
“You didn’t make me, Mom. You ruined me.” My eyes watered and my nose burned. “And maybe I could forgive you for that, if you even cared. But you ruined Hudson. You put him in an impossible situation and decimated any chance we ever had at happiness!”
“His . . . choice.” She had the fucking nerve to shrug.
“Mom,” Anne chided.
“His choice!” she shouted, and the water bottle flew, hitting the mirror to my left.
“He had no choice!” My voice broke. “He was an eighteen-year-old kid, and you were supposed to be an adult, supposed to be my mom. You convinced him I’d never forgive him. That I’d blame him the rest of our lives for Lina’s death.” That was what had played in my mind over and over on the drive, after I’d left him standing on the beach, looking as shattered as I’d felt. “In his mind, he’d already lost me. Of course he left. He was my best friend, Mom, and I loved him! I loved him before I understood what that word really meant.”
“Orange.” She shook her head. “No.” Her fists clenched. “Crush. River boy is crush.”
“Not a crush.” That ache swelled until my ribs strained under the pressure and my vision grew blurry. I didn’t need to remember my response to his declaration on that beach to know with the utmost certainty what it had been. And now? He fiercely protected his family, protected strangers every time he jumped into the water, protected me time and again. He showed up even when I didn’t realize it, tugged me out of my comfort zone without breaking my boundaries, declared his intentions without forcing me into an ultimatum. He told me exactly what he wanted from me—from us—and never demanded the same, giving me the space to figure it out instead of forcing me into another mask, another role, to fit into his idea of perfection. His smile melted my common sense, and his touch set me on fire, but it was the way he listened that broke through every wall I’d built. “I love him.” I said the words out loud and the last rope snapped, setting me completely free and terrifyingly adrift. “I’m in love with him.”
She scoffed.
“Maybe you can’t comprehend the emotion, but it’s when you would give up everything for that person’s happiness. When their smile is essential to your heartbeat. When you know the gnarled, darkest, ugliest parts of each other, and you don’t turn away.” I glanced at my sisters and found Eva’s hand firmly ensconced by Anne’s.
My heart twinged. I hadn’t given Hudson the same grace I always gave my sisters. He’d offered me truth, and I’d shut him out. But there were some wounds that even love couldn’t heal.
“Lina!” she argued, her eyes bulging.
“What is she trying to say?” Eva whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Anne answered. “Mom, what about Lina?”
“Wrong.” Mom glanced at the ceiling, then breathed deep. “Choice.”
“Lina knew about my choice!” I held up my right hand, and her gaze darted to the ring like a magnet. “She gave the ring to Hudson for me as a message to you that I wouldn’t let you twist me like you did her, that I could make my own path, that I could follow my heart and choose love.”
“His choice.” Her eyes bulged. “Wrong. Girl.”
“Mom!” Eva surged to her feet. “Allie, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
“Sure she does,” I answered. “Her memory’s just fine, and it’s not the first time she’s made her feelings known.” Without her tethers, her words fell into the ragged space between us, harsh and ugly, but unable to touch me. I took a single step toward Mom. “I’m done trying to prove myself to you, pushing myself until I break, tearing my body to shreds, done trying to win your approval like it’s some kind of game where you keep moving the goalposts. I’m done.” My hand fell. “I have loved you, worshipped you, idolized you my entire life, but I no longer want your approval. Whatever I do from here on out is for me.”