Page 85 of Forbidden Eyes
The moment suspends in time, all the pain and confusion drifting into insignificance as I stare at him. His eyes search mine as if looking for an explanation. My body inches towards him, suddenly screaming for contact as his fingers tangle in my hair at the nape of my neck. I’m weak in his hold. My breathing quickens, and the drop in my stomach has me struggling to breathe. I'll sign everything over to him right now if he just moves in to me. One kiss and I'll stay, fight my father when he comes. Tell my mom I'm never going home and…
“Fuck!” Carter curses and drops our connection. He turns his back, releasing me in the same move, and digs into his pocket for his phone. “Yes!” he snaps at whoever called him. Without a single word, he hangs up and throws the phone on the countertop to stare out the window again, his hands messing up his own hair this time. The profile of his body calls to me, regardless of the distance he's created again.
“Your mom is up at the house. She’d like to see you. You should go. Now."
“Right.” I nod even though he can’t see me. “I’ll just… leave then.”
Every step I take towards the door, I hope with everything in me that he'll stop me from leaving but he doesn’t. Not one word or action to tell me we're still something. I refuse to pause and give him any more of myself than I already have and make short work of the path back up to the main house. Knowing my mom is waiting for me is the only thing keeping me standing.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Aunt Gabby?” She’s unloading a bag from the shiny sports car parked on the drive. As usual, a beautiful diamond adorns her throat.
“You okay? You don’t look so good.”
“Have you seen my mom? I heard she’s just arrived.”
“Sure, she got in at the same time as us. She’s talking with Quinn.”
I nod, a little lost as to whether I should interrupt her, and stare at the mansion in front of me. It's all a mess—my head, the family, the situation.
“Want me to come and fetch her for you?”
“Thanks.” I dash the tears from my eyes, annoyed with them but so confused about everything.
“Hey, it’s all going to work out. I promise.” She puts her arm around my shoulder and steers me into the house.
“I wish I had your optimism.”
“Experience. I know what my husband and brother-in-law are like. Protective is an understatement. I believe your mother inherited that particular trait as well.”
We walk through into Quinn’s office. The child in me wants to wait at the door and try to hear what they are saying, but Gabby strides right in as if expected.
“Fia!” The relief in my mom’s voice as she sees me sets me off, and the tears that were seeping through my lashes, now flood my eyes. She engulfs me in a hug, full of comfort, warmth and familiarity. I cling to her as if I haven’t seen her in months, and I’m immediately back to being the little girl I once was.
My arms squeeze her into me, hoping to absorb some of her strength.
“Let’s get you upstairs, sweetheart,” she whispers. I nod, rubbing my head against her, not ready to let her go and uncaring that we’re in a room with Uncle Quinn and Aunt Gabby.
She manoeuvres me into the guest bedroom and sits us on the edge of the bed, all without losing contact. Although the tears have been trailing down my face like a slow thaw in spring, I’ve yet to unleash the buildup that I know will storm through me if I give it a chance.
Mom peels me back from her to take a look at my face. The sadness in her eyes—the pain and hurt that I feel reflect in hers. She’s always been incredibly strong. She’s the calming influence to my father’s sometimes irrational behaviour, but I see her now. Her eyes shimmer with tears, and that’s enough to pull the emotion from me.
“Mom, I don’t know what to do and Dad was so frightening. He completely lost it. I can’t believe this happened. I don’t know what to do.” I start to sob, my words starting to run into one another, and the ball of emotion gets lodged in my throat.
She doesn’t answer, but clutches me to her again, letting me cry out until I’m ready. Minutes pass, and I get lost in focusing on the beating of Mom’s heart. She can’t hide the fact that she’s crying as well, and I let her. Perhaps we both need this time. God knows I've never seen her cry before, even in the middle of arguments with Dad.
“Does he know we’re both here?” I whisper.
“Your father? Probably. Although, I didn’t speak to him before I left.”
“What have you told him?” We lie back on the bed and turn in towards each other.
“Nothing. He wasn’t at home when I left and right now, I don’t think I can cope with that conversation.”
“Why did he do it?”
“Do what, honey?”