Page 129 of Crossed
I smirk because I know how to press her buttons so easily. I spent nineteen years of my life at her mercy. Listening to her tell me I wasn’t good enough. That my breasts were too big, my hips were too wide, and I was a distraction to all the men in her life.
And I know envy runs deep. Deep enough to leave your responsibilities at the door. Deep enough to forget about the people you’re supposed to love.
I shrug. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it,Mom?”
She places her mug down on the table and leans back in her chair. It’s a comfortable move, one that shows just how settled she is here.Here, less than an hour away from where she abandoned Quinten and me, leaving us to clean up her mess.
That knot in my gut cinches tighter. “If I asked him to kill you, he would without blinking.”
She scoffs. “He’s a priest, child. Please.”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’smine.”
“Still the same delusional little Amaya. With bigger dreams than you have tits.”
I laugh. “There she is, good ol’ Chantelle Paquette. A decent fake but a terrible mother.”
“People can change, Amaya.”
“Bullshit,” I hiss through clenched teeth, smacking my hand on the table. “You fucked up, over and over and over, and then you left, painting me as some witch and leaving me to pick up the pieces. I don’t give a fuck if you’ve changed. I donotforgive you.”
“Well,” she sniffs. “God forgives, and He’s all that matters.”A little bit tighter now.
I huff out a breath, sadness filling up my chest, that lost young girl who still aches for a mother rearing her pathetic little head. Maybe she’s here because she wanted to be close. Just in case. “Did you ever miss me at all?”
“Oh, Amaya.” Her voice is soft, and my naive heart pounds in my chest. “No.”
The last tiny strands of hope from that kid inside me break away, leaving behind a lightness that I’ve been searching for since the day she disappeared. “How’s Qui— ”Boom.
I surge up from the table and am across it before she can blink, wrapping my hands around her throat and squeezing as we both topple to the floor.
She yelps, and I’m fairly certain my rib is cracked from the way we fell, but the fury pounding in my blood silences everything else. I climb on top of her, straddling her lap until she’s pinned to the ground, and then the rage pumps into my arm and I swing before I can think, backhanding her across the face, droplets of blood spraying from her mouth.
“Don’t you dare say his name!” I yell, my hands going back
to her throat. She fights, and she fights well, nails gouging into the skin of my arm and ripping out chunks of my hair, but I don’t care.
She can’t hurt me more than she already has.
I tighten my grip, and eventually her flailing turns to jerks and then stops altogether, quiet taking over the room.
My breathing is heavy and uneven, and a clock ticks on the wall. I glance up at it, a delicious buzz racing through my system.
And I feelfree.
The door bangs open from down the hall, and I scramble to my feet, spinning around and racing out of the kitchen toward the front.
Cade stands there like a dark angel, tall and imposing with snowflakes dusting his black hair and Quinten’s hand in his.
I let out a sob, rushing to Quinten and grabbing him in my arms, hugging him so tightly he squirms. “All done! All done!” he squeals.
Releasing him, I sit back on my heels, the knot in my chest untangling as I catalog his every feature. Tears flood my eyes again, and I would give anything to stop crying. I’ve done enough of it in the past few days to fill up a fucking river.
“Everything all right?” I ask, my eyes flicking up to Cade’s.
He smiles down at me, but I can sense the worry in his gaze. “Everything is taken care of, mon trésor.”
Quinten starts to move past me, looking around this new place he’s never been to, and I suddenly remember our mother’s dead body in the kitchen.
