Page 112 of The Devil and His Ghost

I couldn’t find a good way to breach the horrible tale. I wasn’t sure what to say or how much. I’d never talked about this with anyone other than the doctors who’d waved me off as crazy. Maybe that was why it was so hard to open back up now. I didn’t—I couldn’t—be dismissed by Xander. I wouldn’t survive that.

I searched the opulent onyx eyes fixed on mine. Patience, care, concern, and want. That’s how he looked at me now. It was a reminder that Xander was the last person I ever had to worry about writing me off, and if I was ever going to try to unlock my box of secrets, he was the only one with whom I’d do so.

“I was adopted,” I revealed. “I don’t remember that process. I was a little over one when I got adopted by the Cartwrights. I hate that I even share that name. I pretend I don’t have a last name.”

The name, my name, was acid on my tongue.

“You can have mine,” Xander announced, completely serious. “Ruan. That’s your last name now.”

I stared at him with wide eyes and laughed softly. “You do realize how that sounds, right? Me taking your last name?”

“Sounds like you mean a lot to me.” He grinned behind our joined hands. “I’m ready to go file legal papers for the name change right now. Want to do a marriage license while we’re there?”

My laughter only grew, and that tension in my body eased. How he managed to smooth out my hard edges so easily was beyond me. But I was grateful for it. I was grateful for him.

“I don’t think the clerk’s office would be open at midnight, Xander.”

“Tomorrow then.” His smile remained, but a hint of seriousness creeped in. “So you were adopted and got a name you hate.”

I nodded and focused on our hands. “Yeah. They’d already had Terrance together, but adopting me made them look good in their community. That was all they cared about. Public perception of them. How ‘amazing’ they were to everyone else. Mom hosted a book club for stay at home moms in the neighborhood and would throw parties at our house for them. She’d bring snacks and dinner to Terrance’s soccer games and practices for all the other boys and their families. She gave talks at the community center about motherhood and how to balance that with sense of self.”

I snorted a malicious laugh. “But of course, none of that was real. She hated reading. She paid Terrance’s tutor extra to read the books for her and give her the highlights. She didn’t make any of the food she claimed to and instead hired chefs to do something as simple as sandwiches. She didn’t know the first thing about motherhood, because all she knew was self. If she wasn’t playing tennis at the country club, shopping for the newest expensive purse, or playing put-together role model at charity events, she was home and practically bathing in wine while watching reality TV. I remember her complaining once about how she’d look better on TV as the perfect example of a housewife with her two kids and rich husband.”

At the mention of her husband, goosebumps broke out along my skin. Tears born from lies and twisted games nearly strangled me. I wasn’t sure if I could keep talking, but Xander’s gentle squeeze of our combined hands along with the soft kiss he dropped to my knuckles gave me the strength to keep going.

“Can you guess who the president of Mountview Psychiatric Hospital was?”

Xander’s dark brows rose. “Your dad?”

“Don’t call him that,” I snapped. An angry, violent disgust warped my insides. I closed my eyes and shook my head feebly against the chair cushion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Xander whispered, reaching out to smooth a thumb between my furrowed brows. “You’re okay.”

I swallowed the bile climbing my throat and focused on Xander’s thumb, which traced a soothing pattern along my forehead while his other hand remained woven with mine beneath his chin.

“Mr. Cartwright was a doctor and the president of Mountview,” I confirmed. “So it only made sense to send me there when everything fell apart.”

Xander had been doing well to listen to me talk without giving away too much of what he was thinking or feeling. But now, he frowned slightly as though beginning to see the bigger painting through my hurried brushstrokes.

“You weren’t admitted to Mountview for seeing ghosts, were you?”

I let out a sardonic laugh, which was good. Rage felt better than terror. Hatred felt better than anguish. I clung to those feelings in order to plow on.

“Seeing and speaking to ghosts was just an excuse for them to get me there. They needed me certified as a lunatic, someone who couldn’t be believed or trusted. I needed to be ‘crazy,’ and he had plenty of people on his payroll to ensure that happened. Having their daughter sent to a place for mentally ill patients may look bad, but they’d rather receive the pity from people for taking in a broken child than the alternative.”

Xander’s eyes never wavered from mine, even as his expression grew grimmer. “What did they not want people to believe you about?”

I could see his own conclusions forming behind his dark eyes, each probably more terrible than the last. He was most likely correct in his assumption, yet experiencing the real thing was so much worse than any guess he could’ve made.

I’d already said more than I ever had before. Exhaustion smothered the rage and disgust, so I let out a tired breath, unable to speak on this anymore.

“I don’t want to see him,” I said wearily. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him, but I want to be there for Terrance. I don’t want to miss out on even more of life because of him.”

I closed my eyes and focused on the summer breeze atop the tall building. I listened to the sounds of the city below us and counted each of my own exhales to keep my mind steady.

“What if I went with you?”

Slowly, I opened my eyes to meet his. He’d sealed off whatever he was feeling so that all I found was a steadfast and determined set to his jaw and brow.