Hate & Chaos : The Complete Duet

10. Scarlet

10

SCARLET

I t’s almost funny. I’ve been home not even three days, and once again, there’s a ‘big talk’ hanging over my head. Except this time, I’m not dreading an unhappy response, far from it.

If anything, I’m dreading having to put on a happy face. I know what’s coming, and I know everyone will expect me to fall in line with their smiles and praise and such.

I’ve been faking happiness since I got home.

In other words, I’m exhausted. Body and soul.

Yet somehow, I manage to sound normal when I tap my knuckles on the doorframe of my father’s study. He’s at his desk, as always, deep in the process of typing furiously on his keyboard. I might think he was angry if I didn’t know that’s the way he types all the time.

“Dad? Do you have a minute?”

His head snaps up, his expression troubled. I’m used to seeing him this way, caught in the middle of a thought, his mind a million miles away. I can’t begin to understand what it takes to run the sort of organization he does. I’ve heard it referred to as an empire—and while I don’t know the ins and outs per se, both because I’ve tried to keep myself out of it and because sexism is alive and well—I know it must be enormous, considering the hours he puts in.

In our world, the line between business and the rest of life is blurred, even nonexistent. There is no separating the two.

It’s a relief when, after a beat, his expression softens a little. “Of course, I have a minute for you. Five minutes, in fact.”

He doesn’t often try to be funny, so I have to show appreciation when he does. It’s hard to remember how much I was looking forward to getting out on my own and starting a so-called normal life at MIT when I walk through the familiar room my father uses as his study. There’s something to be said for the therapeutic comforts of home. Everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be, where it’s been all this time. Even when I wasn’t here, the world kept turning without me.

He leans back in his chair, lifting an eyebrow when I take a seat with my hands folded in my lap. “Do me one favor,” he murmurs before I begin. “Tell me you’re not throwing your life away on some useless boy from Boston.”

I’m so surprised, I blurt out a laugh. No, it wasn’t a boy from Boston I was ready to throw my life away for. It was one much closer to home. “There is nothing regarding boys that you have to worry about, Dad.”

“Good. Anything but that.” He grimaces almost comically, and I giggle again. He’s in a good mood, which always bodes well. His state of mind can sway the entire family—either you steer clear of him when he’s good and pissed or you can breathe easier when he’s happy.

I’m pretty sure he’ll be damn near euphoric by the time I’m finished. He always is when he’s proven right.

“I’ve made a decision.”

He nods slowly. “You know I trust your judgment.”

He’s feeling especially generous. Maybe he’s missed having me around the way Mom clearly did. I’m pretty sure she resents having to take time to use the bathroom since it means a few minutes she can’t give me a hug or stroke my hair or ask for the hundredth time if I’m eating enough.

“I don’t want to go back to MIT.”

He sits up suddenly, now looking at me with a gaze that promises death and dismemberment. “What happened? Did someone hurt you? Who do I have to kill?”

As touching as the idea is, I hold up my hands. “No violence needed.”

“You aren’t just saying that, are you? Don’t get some foolish idea in your head that you need to protect someone from me.”

Of all the times for my stupid, traitorous heart to throb painfully. I was trying to protect someone from him, wasn’t I? Dad would never have been as hard on me as he would have on Ren if we’d ever been found out.

There I was, going against my father in favor of somebody who wasn’t worth it. That’s right. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll believe it eventually. That’s the thing. I need to believe it.

He runs a hand over his chest, smoothing his tie as he lets out a deep breath. “What brought on this change of heart?”

“It just isn’t for me. I thought it would be, but I’m not happy there. I mean, at least I know, right?”

“Know what?” He’s being gentle, gentler than usual, in fact. Probably because he knows where this is going. You don’t get as far as he has in life without possessing strong instincts. Besides, he’s my father. He’s known me my entire life. Sure, he’s been busy for most of it, but there’s never been a question of his love.

He knows he’s going to get his way, so he can afford to be gentle and patient.

“I know there isn’t something else out there for me. I would’ve always wondered, I guess, if things would have been different had I not decided for myself rather than automatically doing what is expected of me.”

“That’s a very wise and mature way of looking at it.” His eyes twinkle just the same. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Finally, he allows himself the ghost of a smile—tentative, hopeful. I guess I’m glad I can make him happy. One of us should be.

“If you think it means I want to go to Corium, then yes.”

He claps his hands together, the sound loud and sharp in the otherwise silent room. “You don’t know how relieved this makes me. As much as it pains me to know you were unhappy there, I can’t pretend having you at Corium won’t be a huge load off my mind.”

Of course, because it means he’ll be able to keep a closer eye on me than ever. Not only will Lucas Diavolo pay special attention to me simply out of loyalty to my father, but everyone will know I’m Q’s little sister. I’m a Rossi and, therefore, royalty. I probably won’t make a move without somebody knowing about it.

Right now, I don’t care. It’s something I’ll have to deal with later. I’m sure I’ll come to resent it, but I can’t feel anything right now. I’m still numb, almost shell-shocked. I wonder if I’ll ever feel anything again.

Considering all the good my feelings have done me so far, it might be better if I don’t. I’ve racked up plenty of sleepless nights and endless headaches after crying my eyes out. Hating myself for being so stupid and trusting and needy.

Dad is unaware, too busy practically glowing with gladness. “I’m very happy to hear this, and I know your mother will be as well. I assume you haven’t told her yet.”

Of course, because otherwise, he would know by now. Mom would never keep something like this from him, at least not for long. “You’re the first one I’ve spoken to. Well, besides Tessa.”

“I’m sure she’ll be sad to lose you.” That’s not what he really has on his mind, though. As usual, he’s thinking ten steps ahead, the way a man in his position has to. It’s a habit, even more so when it comes to his kids. He’s already making a list of tasks. He’ll want to call Lucas to make sure my room will be ready for me when I get there, that kind of thing.

And the best I can do right now is sit here and be glad one of us is happy.

“I’ll announce this at dinner,” he decides, which comes as no surprise. This is my news, but he’s going to treat it like his own. I don’t care. It’s not like I feel any emotional connection to the decision. I’m not going toward Corium. I’m going away from MIT and all the disappointment I experienced there. It’s not like I’m looking forward to this. There’s no hope in my heart, no gleam in my eye. Maybe things will get better, and my life will settle down into a comfortable, fulfilling track.

Somehow, I doubt it.

I leave him to his planning and self-congratulation in favor of wandering. Puttering. It seems like that’s all I’ve done since I got home: walking aimlessly from room to room like a ghost haunting the house. Going to the library and picking up a book before putting it back, uninterested. Examining some of the framed photos here and there.

Studying my sister’s smiling face, so dearly missed. What I wouldn’t give for a little advice from her right now. Out of everybody, she would have understood. She would’ve kept my secret; I know it in my heart. Yet another loss I still haven’t quite recovered from, and I don’t know if I ever will.

What’s the alternative to wandering? Lying in my room, staring at the ceiling, which of course, makes Mom mental. She’s already hovering now that I’m back, making up for lost time. If she so much as catches a hint of the idea that I’m depressed, she’ll plan a girls day—shopping, a trip to the salon, manicures. And while I would love her for it, it would only make me more miserable.

I can’t feel anything, and pretending I can only makes things worse. Like heaping more pain on myself when I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to withstand what I’m already suffering.

Once I get to Corium, no longer under her watchful eye, I might be able to get my head on straight. Hopefully, I can push past the wall that seems to have sprung up around me, a hundred feet high and just as thick, separating me from the rest of the world. An invisible wall, of course. I can see everybody else, and they can see me. But I can’t feel them. I’m not actually present.

Tessa taps insistently at the back of my mind.

Wherever you go, there you are. Right. Here I am, telling myself things might get better when I’m at Corium, falling straight into the trap my cousin warned me about. That didn’t take long, did it?

“You finally broke down and decided to follow in your big brother’s footsteps, huh?” Quinton puffs his chest out. “I knew it was only a matter of time. You can’t help wanting to emulate me.”

“Enough.” Aspen giggles with a playful shove before getting up and rounding the dining room table to give me a tight hug. It’s just as fierce and loving as the rest of her.

“This is so exciting.” Her eyes are shining when she pulls back. “I know Lucas will keep a special eye on you. You’re going to fit in just great.”

“I’m looking forward to getting settled in,” I lie with an equally fake smile. For the briefest moment, no longer than the time it takes my heart to beat, something like concern passes across her face.

She knows. Somehow, she know s.

No, that’s nothing more than a guilty conscience driving me out of my skull. There’s no reason for her to know what’s really going on inside my head. I have to stop psyching myself out, or I’ll dissolve into paranoia.

Looking to Quinton’s left, to the empty chair where Ren would’ve sat in better, happier times, I pretend not to be bothered by it.

Mom beams at her end of the table. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t make me happy, knowing you’re someplace I can trust.”

That’s it. That’s the comment that will break me. I’ve withstood everything so far. I’m faking a smile for Mom, my brother, and his wife, the same smile I plastered across my face when Dad made his big announcement.

But Mom’s assumption of my safety is the straw about to break the camel’s back. Because didn’t Q almost die there? Aspen, too? Is there such a thing as safety anywhere?

My gaze drifts over the empty chair once again, making my heart clench. Three days. He’s had three days to find me here, to sneak in like he did on my birthday. The sight of his customary chair drives home the disappointing fact that no matter what I try to tell myself, I’m nowhere near letting him go. Not if, in my heart of hearts, I hoped he’d sneak in to be with me again.

He doesn’t care. Why should you care about him?

I pick at my food, nodding at Mom’s suggestion of going shopping for new clothes. Why I need new clothes when I have plenty, I don’t know. Just because I’m going to a different school doesn’t mean I need a new wardrobe.

My awareness is miles away, pondering, picking at half-healed scabs. What if he’s dead? He could be, for all any of us knows. There’s no way of knowing who he got himself involved with or where he ended up. How he could’ve survived on his own.

Isn’t it funny how when I think that, when I test the idea, it doesn’t hurt as much as the alternative? What if he moved on? What if he forgot me? Yes, I would rather he be dead than know he forgot me. If that doesn’t confirm how completely mental this entire thing has made me, I don’t know what does.

Movement from the other side of the table catches my eye, and I have the displeasure of witnessing my brother tuck a strand of blond hair behind his wife’s ear before he caresses her cheek.

It’s nice that they’re happy. I want them to be happy because I love them.

But do they have to be so happy around me? I hate myself for even thinking that—it’s so childish, petty. It’s not like I would ever say that out loud to them, but I’m still embarrassed that I’d even think it. I know all too well how they struggled before they could finally be together. They deserve all the good things they have now.

Something passes between them. A special sort of look, a tiny nod. I’m the only one who notices it, with my parents talking over us, discussing plans to get me ready for my new school.

Q clears his throat. When that doesn’t work, he taps a fork on the side of his wineglass. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a grin when our parents look at him with similar expressions of surprise. “But there’s something we wanted to talk about tonight. Scar sort of stole our thunder.”

And I know. All at once, it hits me before he even has to say it.

There’s no wine in Aspen’s glass.

He turns to her, and the love that radiates from him almost makes me embarrassed to witness it. Like they should be alone. Like nobody should break in on their special moment. Aspen glows as she meets his gaze, wearing a loving smile.

I’m going to be sick. It’s like the universe is throwing everything but the kitchen sink at my head, doing the most to make sure my spirit crumbles.

“Do you want to be the one to say it?” he murmurs with a gentle smile.

She nods before casting a furtive, mischievous look around the table.

“We’re having a baby.”

Mom was merely happy before. Now, she lets out a shriek that I’m pretty sure will have every dog in a five-mile radius lifting its head, ears perked.

Dad, meanwhile, is half out of his chair, wearing a shocked expression. “You’re sure? Everything’s?—”

“Everything is perfect,” Q confirms.

Though the doctor assured Aspen she’d be able to have children after her brutal attack and subsequent miscarriage, there was always an unspoken worry about whether things would really turn out okay. At least, I always worried.

But now, here they are. Radiantly overjoyed, surrounded by love and congratulations, and a very eager pair of soon-to-be grandparents just dying to spoil the baby rotten. I guess my back-to-school shopping will take a back seat to searching for nursery furniture.

I’m okay with that. Just as I’m thrilled for them—really, I am. They deserve this, something they’ve both wanted so much. Any child of theirs is lucky to be born into so much love.

But dammit. Why can’t it be me?

“Congratulations,” I murmur, and I’ll pretend the tears in my eyes are the result of happiness as I give my sister-in-law a hug just as fierce and loving as the one she gave me. “You’ll make an amazing mom.”

I’m merely saying what I know people normally say in situations like this. Like a robot. I don’t feel any of it.

But I’m not numb anymore. Oh no. I wish I was.

Because now? There’s no sadness.

There’s no room for it now that anger has taken its place, stirring to life inside me, threatening to show itself in my voice or on my face. I can’t wait until dinner is over, so I have an excuse to hide in my room where no one will see.

This will never be me. I’ll never be the one to announce I’m having a very wanted, very loved baby. I won’t gaze adoringly into the eyes of a man who cherishes me just as much.

My heart thumps painfully, loudly, the sound echoing in my head. It hurts. It all hurts so badly. How could he do this to me?

How could I do it to myself?

Wherever Ren is—alive or dead—I only hope he’s suffering the way I am now. Faking a smile when all he wants is to cry. Faced with a living, breathing reminder of what he once imagined might be possible.

Knowing it can never be. Not ever.