Page 86 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

Swallowing my discomfort, I focus on my family. “I had the same reaction when Dad gave me the bank details, but…” I look at my brothers and Mom, these amazing people who have suffered too much and deserve the world. I’ve suffered enough and deserve to follow my dreams.

“The money isn’t drug money,” I say. “Not directly, at least. The account is for the book—the advance, foreign rights earnings, and any eventual royalties. It all goes in there, and it’s for us. And before you all scream and punch walls, I think we should accept it. It’s the least he owes us, and I’m tired of letting his actions overshadow my life. Not taking it would linger more negatively than using it. A lot of good can come from that cash.”

A house for me. Financial burdens eased. Releasing some of our anger to let in hope.

“I won’t.” Desmond isn’t as snarly, not with Sadie by his side, but his jaw looks ready to snap. “This is different from government money. I want nothing from him.”

“Fine,” I say, understanding exactly how he feels. “Then I’ll take your portion and start an account for Max. Taking the money doesn’t mean we forgive Dad.”

“But that’s exactly what he’ll think,” Des says. “If we accept that money, he’ll think he’s absolved.”

I look at E, think about his rational thoughts on the matter. “Every time he gets a royalty check and knows he can’t use the cash, it’ll remind him of what he did. Of how much he hurt us. That’s not forgiveness. That’s a life sentence of guilt.”

“Lennon’s right.” Jake cracks his knuckles, a popping sound that never fails to give me the shivers. “If the money is from the book, it’s aboveboard, and nothing he gives us changes the past. He knows it. We know it. There’s no getting back our ten years or forgiving him, but I won’t let my bitterness undermine our future. If it’ll help us rebuild our lives with our old names, I don’t give a shit what he thinks. I vote yes.” He looks to Mom. “What do you think?”

She has one arm wrapped around her stomach, her other tucked against her side with her hand covering her mouth. It’s a familiar pose, one I haven’t seen in a while, like she’s trying to make herself small. “I think it’s not my choice, but I’d love to see your financial burdens eased.”

“I’m in,” Cal says. “Jake and I could use it for our construction business. Better that than Dad getting the cash.”

“Agreed,” E says. “I’ll use it to build my porn empire.”

Delilah rolls her eyes.

I’m not sure when E usurped my role as Bower Jokester, but I actually laugh. “What about you, Des? Do I need to set yours aside for Max, or will you take it?”

He and Sadie lock eyes.

“It’s your choice,” she says quietly, “but I agree with them. Your father shouldn’t have that money. It belongs to all of you.”

His posture softens, and he rubs his hand up and down her arm. “Okay,” he says, barely audibly.

That was easier than I expected. No walls were punched. The furniture in the room is still intact, and I actually feel relieved. Excited to contact Mrs. Jackson and take this huge step forward in my life. Maybe Mom’s news will be easier to handle too. I’ve probably been a nervous wreck for nothing, worrying myself over imagined drama.

I step back, giving Mom the floor.

Maggie touches my arm briefly. “You were great. I’m so glad you decided to use the money.”

“It feels like the right choice.” I want to lean down and kiss her cheek, but something in her angled posture stops me. “I’m also considering ditching the adventure programs and becoming a bad-news teller. People can hire me to share their horrible tidings. I obviously excel at dropping emotional bombs.”

She doesn’t laugh at my joke or roll her eyes. Her attention is back on the floor, like I’m not even here, and I’m done walking on these eggshells. We need to talk. I need this family meeting over stat. My “I love you” clearly freaked Maggie out, and I need to explain that we can slow down, hit pause on bigger emotions, as long as she continues showing me how much she cares.

“About your father’s book,” Mom says, moving things along. But she doesn’t continue. She’s still shrinking herself, both arms wrapped around her middle now, her shoulders hunched forward.

My worry over this impending drama claws back to life. I circle my arm around Maggie to pull her closer—my safe place, even when she’s acting weird—but her phone rings.

“Shoot. Sorry.” She digs her phone from her pocket and frowns at the screen. “I need to take this. Work,” she says as she hurries away.

I watch her retreat to the kitchen, feeling more unmoored.

“About your father’s book,” Mom says again, stronger this time. “I finished it a while ago, but I needed some time to let it settle before—”

“Oh my God.” Maggie’s panicked voice cuts through my tension.

I move right away, jogging to her in the other room, latching on to any excuse to delay Mom’s reveal. And Maggie’s oh my God is not good. Not when she’s dealing with work.

“What happened?” I ask before I reach her.

Her face is pale, her hand clutching her chest. “Are they sure? Did they double count?” She squeezes her eyes shut and mouths Fuck. “I’ll be right there. We’ll find him. He must have wandered away.”