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I needed him, but not for strength. I just wanted him here, and I didn’t want my mom.
Alarm bells hit me that he wasn’t here but Mom was. Mom wouldn’t be happy that he was around. She had a vendetta against him and his family after what had happened when we were kids since he’d gotten off so easily after taking me. It was a vendetta I had as well, but things had changed.
While my mom huffed around the room scolding me about how I managed to do what I had to myself, I eased my phone out from beneath me.
Me: Hey, my mom is here, and you should probably make yourself scarce. I still don’t think she’s your biggest fan, so I’d be on standby wherever you’re at until you hear from me.
He was probably in the hospital somewhere, but he shouldn’t be here in this room right now. I didn’t know what my mother would do honestly, but freaking out was a given. She was already on one hundred right now.
“God, this is the day from hell. Between your flare and finding that crazy boy poking around the hospital…”
My head jerked up. “What?”
Eugena Davis swiveled around. She’d obviously lost her composure, but she’d gotten it back when she settled her hands. “I don’t know if you remember Thatcher Reed. Of course you do since he terrorized you.”
It was like my lungs went tight, locked in my fucking chest. “Thatcher?” It came out more in a gasp than a voice, and my mom glided over again.
“Yes, and I don’t want you to be scared, honey, but…” She placed her hand on mine. “I caught him coming out of your room this morning. I didn’t recognize him at first. He’s obviously gotten older, but with your threats and us not knowing who did them still, I instinctually called the authorities. I mean, a strange man coming out of my daughter’s room…”
My lungs squeezed harder. “You had him arrested?”
“I did, and with the previous history between you two, that was easy. I recognized who he was after I followed him, and they caught him in the cafeteria. He was getting food or something.”
Probably for me. In fact, I knew what he was doing was for me. It was just something he would do. Something he had done. He used to bring me breakfast every day.
Short breaths left my lips. “Mom…”
“But he’s gone now. So you shouldn’t?—”
“Mom, it was bullshit!”
She twitched after what I said, and I was frantic, spiraling. Thatcher had been arrested? What the fuck? Mom frowned. “Honey?—”
“Thatcher did not threaten me. He did nothing wrong, and you’re going to fix this.”
“What are you talking about, baby?”
She wasn’t listening to me, and I wasn’t in a place where I could properly explain. I threw my bedding off, a big mistake since I was still stiff. The pain lassoed the entirety of my tender joints, but I didn’t care.
Thatcher…
I had to get to him, but my body was betraying me. On top of that, my mom started to fight me, and I screamed.
Mom’s hand shot off my arm. “Sweetheart…”
“Thatcher didn’t stalk me. I never had a stalker.” My head hit the pillow, tears of frustration falling from my eyes. My body had betrayed me, yes, but I’d also betrayed myself.
“I think your best, snowflake, isn’t having a quarter-life crisis at twenty-one… You hate what you’re doing, and it’ll eventually make you hate everyone who’s making you do it.”
Thatcher’s words played in my head, but I didn’t hate my mom. I hated me for what I’d done to both of us. I’d become complacent and let her think what she was doing was okay. I’d allowed her to hurt me, and though that didn’t justify her treatment at all, I’d made it easy for her.
Mom put her hand on my arm. “Baby girl, what do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re making me hate everything that I used to love. The things that gave me life…”
“Aspen—”
“You’re making me hate cello, Mom!” I yelled, and she distanced. I swallowed. “I hate the schedules. I hate the diet. I hate the fucking hustle, and I do want to be the best. I do, but you’re making what I love work for me, and that’s making me hate it.”
