Page 51 of Weston’s Treasure

“Just get it over with so we can move on.”

Annoying.

“Fine,” I snapped. “He wants me to take over because my mother would hate it.”

“Thought they didn’t talk.”

“They don’t. But it doesn’t mean she isn’t up in his business and that he doesn’t keep tabs on hers.”

“What does that even mean, babe?”

“It means my mother’s remarried. And I heard that from my dad, not from her. Apparently, he’s some wealthy yacht broker who also dips into headhunting for crew and captains. That means he knows the business and knows what my dad’s doing. My dad has a lot of friends, again all in the business. He knew the second my mom got engaged and to whom. So if I took over my dad’s charter business my mother would know and it would crawl under her skin. He’d win. It’s ridiculous, but there you have it.”

“Win?”

“Yes, win in the battle of who was right and who was wrong when it came to all things Silver. Though my dad’s forgetting something. If I take over, my mom will be right.”

“How’s that?”

“Because she always said I’d turn into him, a loser with nothing to my name but a pocket full adventures that didn’t amount to shit.”

“She said that?”

This time when I felt Weston’s body shaking, it definitely wasn’t from humor.

“My dad is at the top of the list of what she hates most. I think I’m number two but only because there is a lot she hates about my dad. When they divorced, she told him he could keep me because he’d already ruined me and there was no hope of turning me into anything more than what I already was.”

“Silver, that is so fucked-up I’m at a loss. Actually, that’s a lie. However, since beating the hell out of a woman isn’t an option, all I can say is—she shows up, I will not go as gentle on her as I did your father.”

“That’s just her.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not just her. Everything she ever said to you was the ramblings of a vile, jealous bitch. There is no excuse for her behavior. None. But the problem is, all her nasty poison is still inside of you. It’s simmering below the surface, smoldering, just waiting to detonate. That’s what she gave you—toxic waste.”

“I agree. It is inside of me. It is toxic and I don’t want it to spill over onto you. I told you that. I told you I wasn’t good for you, I told you I didn’t know how to do this without my poison leaking into your life. And it has.”

“And I told you, Silver, now I see I need to remind you of something. It is not lost on me, that viper who carried you in her body, only to give life to a stunning, strong woman, then did her best to feed you shit, left you with scars. I’m now seeing your father did his own damage. But I told you, I’m gonna unravel that. And I wasn’t lying then and I’m not lying now—you give me your time and your trust and I’ll dig it out. All of it.”

And that was when it hit me—everything. It all came crumbling down, the shaky hold I had on my sanity. The tears started, and once they did, I didn’t know how to turn them off. I hadn’t cried over my mother since the day she took off for good. She didn’t say she wouldn’t be back, but I knew. It was the way she’d said goodbye. I’d gone down to my stateroom, hid from my dad, and cried.

But after that, no more. I’d set out to prove I was not what she said I was. But Weston was right, her poison was simmering. It came out a hundred times a day in a hundred different ways. Every decision I’d made my whole life was with her in mind.

Suddenly Weston’s arms were no longer around me. He bent, his arm went under my legs, he scooped me up, and carried me to the bed. I was still trying to process how he’d pulled off the fireman’s hold when he settled himself on the mattress, his back to the headboard, and me in his lap. Through all of this, he said nothing. But he didn’t need to—his actions, the way he was holding me, the kiss he’d placed on the top of my head—told me more than any words ever could.

“Why does she hate me so much?” I whispered.

“She doesn’t.”

“Did you not hear what I just told you?”

“Every. Single. Fucked-up. Word. But she doesn’t hate you. She hates herself. She hates her life. She hates the woman she sees in the mirror. She hates the choices she made. She hates that something so precious and beautiful came out of those choices. Instead of setting aside her self-loathing and learning to be a good mom, she set out to destroy that beauty. But she failed, Silver.”

I sat quietly, my head against Weston’s shoulder, and thought about what he said. I’d never considered my mother’s issues were her own. When I was younger, my dad had told me stories, he would smile and laugh and tell me how much fun he and my mom used to have. He’d say, “Scout, you wouldn’t believe it, your mom, so beautiful. Always smiling and having a good time.” That was not the woman I remembered. She was always hyper-critical. Always scowling. Always complaining.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

“Why does your dad call you Scout?”

I smiled hearing Weston say my dad’s silly nickname for me. He used to say it with a smile, pride and happiness, not like he had downstairs.