Page 119 of How to Break My Heart
A pain smacks the back of my throat as I croak, “Who is he?”
Mom exhales, drinking the bourbon in one go, something I’ve never seen her do. Usually, she’s all about wine or champagne. As I observe her briefly, even her appearance has changed. Normally, she is poised and well put together. I’ve never seen her with her hair in a messy bun, and wearing sweats, of all things. Granted, they’re massive and belong to me, but still.
“Sawyer King,” she states simply, with a yearning gaze. “He owned the ranch where I would ride horses to get away from it all.”
A heaviness rests on my shoulders, forcing my body to slump. “Where is he now?”
She shrugs. “We lost contact a long time ago. Your father—sorry, I mean Harvey—made sure of that.”
There are so many questions, but my mind is still reeling from the fact Harvey isnotmy father. All along, he treated me as if he had something to prove, and I was nothing but a pawn in his game. As I look back, there were signs. Every so often, he’d make a dig, but I brushed it off as his sick and twisted humor.
“I don’t understand why Harvey pretended to be my father,” I say out loud, my tone raspy from the strong liquor.
“He didn’t want his reputation ruined. It was easier for him to pretend than for everyone to learn his wife had an affair.”
It’s all so fucked-up.
I rub my face in my hands, unsure what to do from here. Everything has changed, and my entire existence is one giant blur.
“But all these years, you paid the price, Mom.”
“For you, Aston.” She reaches to touch my cheek. “Always for you.”
I place my hand on hers, then squeeze it tight. “So, now what?”
“There’s a lot I need to sort out, Aston,” she mentions softly. “But I’m here for you. I’m sorry it felt like I took his side all those years. I thought I was protecting you by saying nothing and following his instructions. I was facing my own demons, tryingto escape, only to find myself addicted to pills. These wellness retreats weren’t retreats, they’re rehab centers.”
My chest caves, knowing that all along, my mother was in so much pain she jeopardized her own life.
“You’ve sacrificed enough,” I tell her, then state firmly, “You need to be happy.”
Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a much-needed embrace. I’ve heard there is no greater love for a son than from a mother, and at this moment, I know she gave up everything for me. That is unconditional love.
“And what about Everleigh? You love her?”
I ache at the mention of her name. For the last day, I’ve buried my emotions and hated myself for the cowardly act of not fighting for what we had.
The wound is wide open and exposed to severe pain. Instead of screaming, telling the whole world just how miserable I am, the pain cripples me. Forcing me into a cone of silence where my tortured thoughts imprison me.
And for now, I can’t fix us, not when I am drowning without a life jacket.
But then, a raw emotion consumes me when I realize…
“I think I always have.”
My eyes divert toward the glass table beside me, where a large pile of papers sits with a note on top. Contracts. Everything that still ties me to the Beaumont Group. I reach for the yellow note, bringing it closer to read as my eyes are blurry and unfocused from the bottle of whiskey I drank earlier this evening.
Three nights in a row of drowning myself in my sorrows.
Avoiding everything to figure out who the hell I am.
Madelina checked in briefly. She opted to stay in a secluded Airbnb farther upstate until Billie’s mom’s funeral later in the week.
It feels like a world away, but my sister deserves this break. I’m aware her failed wedding made news headlines in Cinnamon Springs, only adding fuel to an already burning fire. A bunch of bored reporters looking to bank on people’s misfortunes.
As for me, I’ve barely managed to pick up the broken pieces of my existence, staring outside the shell of my body like a stranger. This vicious cycle I find myself in spiraled out of control. It’s been days since I slept, days since I showered, and the beard is a reminder of how unbothered I’ve become.
The only ray of hope is when Everleigh sends me a text.
