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“Do you have the money to live in a hotel for who knows how long? Or enough for a deposit on an apartment?”
I press my lips tightly together, knowing she has a point. “No.”
“Listen, I don’t have a problem with your mom staying, if you don’t mind sharing the guest bed. Seriously, I want to help if I can. I had a similar situation not too long ago, and it would have meant the world to me to have someone do something like this for me.”
I waver, squeezing my eyes tight. Would I be awful if I accepted her offer? I haven’t even told her what I did to Connor. Will she take everything back once she finds out?
“Could I come over tonight? To talk about it?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll make dinner, so come hungry.”
A weak laugh escapes me. I can’t believe how generous she’s being. “Okay, thanks.”
I make my goodbyes and hang up, relief and dread warring within me. She took the news about being my sister great, but will that good feeling last when I confess the true reason why I was Connor’s assistant?
I try not to focus on that question too much as I finish packing all the necessary things in my room, then knock on Mom’s door softly.
“Come in.”
Her eyes are red-rimmed, a crumpled tissue in her hand.
“I’m guessing Dad didn’t budge?”
“No.” She leaves it at that, and I’m a little surprised she doesn’t attempt to defend him. She usually does.
I stick my hands in my back pockets, looking around the room. God, she’s got a lot of crap in here. “I might have someone we can stay with while we figure things out. I’m going to her place for dinner to talk about it.” I’ll wait to tell her it’s my sister until I actually know for sure it’s happening. “But I can help you pack whatever’s most important before I go.”
She gives me a sad smile and nods. “That’d be great, baby. Thanks.”
I pull her suitcase out of the closet, pausing as she says, “Greg told me what he wanted you to do.”
“Yeah?” I grab her most-used shirts, hangers and all, and stuff them into the bag.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sigh, still turned away from her, and go through her pants next. Four pairs should be good. “I didn’t want you to worry. It might have set you back.”
She’s quiet, watching me pack her things, then gets up, joining me. “I can finish up.”
“I don’t mind.”
She takes a pair of pajamas out of my hands. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said a few days ago, and I should be doing more.”
“What about your pain?”
“I’ll manage. The suggestions the doctor gave us have helped, just like you said they would. Go finish packing your stuff.”
I step back as she takes over. Well, that hasn’t happened in a while. Maybe she’s finally turning things around.
I wander out into the living room, taking in the couch Mom constantly reminded me not to jump on years ago. The armchair I somehow managed to fall off the top of and sprain my thumb when I was six. The television you sometimes have to hit on the side to get it to stop flickering. The bookshelves crammed full of books we haven’t picked up in ages.
I breathe in all the familiar things and say goodbye, wishing it didn’t have to be like this, but I suppose our position here was always tenuous, at the mercy of a man with little in the way of conscience. This house was never a gift. It was a way to keep us under his thumb.
Well, he has nothing to hold over us any more, at least.
And I have a new future to figure out.
Chapter Thirty-One