Page 33 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Hollyn

S omehow, Nate and I managed to get on the plane and back to the apartment on Sunday without Indy or Kinsley being any the wiser about the shift in our relationship.

It helped that the two girls were still absorbed in their concert experience and all the merch they needed to dole out to friends today.

“I’ll see you after school,” Kin says, dropping her breakfast plate in the sink. She breezes out the door, her stuffed backpack over her shoulder. Other than a bit of attitude on Saturday over her coffee shop visit with friends, we had a good weekend.

As much as it pains me to admit it, being in Bellerive has been good for her and for me, and it’s definitely healed our relationship, at least a little bit.

I polish off my second piece of toast and then head back to my bedroom.

I tug on a loose cotton dress and run a brush through my hair before gathering it into a ponytail.

Even though Nate and I agreed to keep us a secret, I don’t know if I can get my head out of the clouds to sell professionalism.

Between going to his apartment and finding him climaxing while obviously thinking about me to receiving two orgasms to having him inside me bare for the first time, the last few days are a lot to process.

I never let myself consider I could have any part of Nate again.

Because no matter how great this moment is, these last few days have been, the dark clouds of my past are just beyond the horizon.

They’re there, waiting to cause a life-altering storm.

The only way to keep the storm from ruining everything is to keep Nate and me quiet and, god help me, less serious than last time. Somehow.

We might have unearthed emotions in New York, but so many other things need to stay buried, for both our sakes.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I take a deep breath. We’re filming today, and I was told that hair and makeup would be done once I got there. “Fresh-faced and ready to be primped and pampered” was my directive from Twyla before I left the office on Friday.

The door to the apartment opens. “Kin? Did you forget something?” I ask, coming out of my bedroom. My steps stutter to a stop.

“I think you forgot something,” my mother says, a key dangling from her fingers. “I kept expecting you to change the locks.”

My father wanders into the apartment behind her, and my pulse skyrockets.

I’m a grown adult. They can’t hurt me the way they once did. Keep calm and levelheaded.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, and I cast a furtive glance toward the kitchen. If I was closer, I’d grab a knife.

“We have a key,” my father says with a chuckle. “We’ve got as much right as you. You don’t own this apartment.”

Reasoning with him about rental agreements and my aunt’s will won’t help.

“Where’s my stuff?” my mom asks as she gazes around the space.

“Aunt Verna didn’t leave you anything,” I say. “There’s nothing here for you.”

“We came looking for it a few times—money, papers—she was keeping it safe for me. Where the fuck is it, Hollyn? What’d you do with it?”

“I never found any money, and if you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops.”

“Ah, right,” my father says with a tsk. “She’s got the cops in her back pocket now that she’s hanging out with a Tucker. Just like last time.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say.

My mother has been scouring the room, and now she’s getting closer than I’m comfortable with. They’re like circling lions, ready to pounce.

“TV shows, VIP concert tickets—those things don’t come cheap. What kind of vagina hooks have you got that you managed to reel him back in a second time?”

“That’s not…” The denial dies on my lips. “How do you…” Then I remember a few times I came home and things in the apartment felt different, like stuff had been moved, but I could never place what. Her words from when she entered register. “You’ve been here, trespassing.”

“That’s a big word,” my father says. “One I’m not sure you understand the meaning of. We’ve paid money toward this apartment. We’ve got a legal claim here.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” I say.

“Kinsley seemed overjoyed about the concert,” my mother says, sly as she weaves her way closer.

“How would you know that?” I ask.

“We follow each other,” she says with a little shrug. “Besties.”

Kinsley can’t know it’s Mickie on the other side of whatever profile our mother is using. I refuse to believe Kin would have gone behind my back to befriend Mickie. Curiosity, I can understand, but Mickie is implying an actual relationship.

“It makes her really angry that you work so much, you know. I always tell her she’s right to be angry. Justified. After all, her sister stole her from her rightful parents—the ones who should be raising her. The ones who would have raised her here, given her everything.”

The courts took my sister. I just swooped in and removed her from government care.

But I know that tone in my mother’s voice.

She’s a viper, waiting to strike, and I’m not handing her any provocation.

I can deal with whatever has been happening between her and Kinsley with my sister—who is, funnily enough, the rational one in this situation.

“I want my shit,” my mother says, “and I’m not leaving until you hand it over.”

“I don’t have anything,” I say, flinging out my hands. “Whatever you’re after isn’t here.”

“Nah, it’s here somewhere. Verna would have wanted me to have it all back. So either you’re looking for it right now, or I am,” she says.

“Neither of us are. I have to get to set.” And when I see the time on the clock, a little bit of panic sets in.

If I don’t take some brave steps here, I’m going to be very late on my first day of shooting, and Nate already explained to everyone that being late is money and time lost. “You need to leave.”

“Fuck that,” my father says. “You get your mother’s things, and then we’ll leave.”

“I’ll call the police,” I say, taking my phone out of my pocket.

My mother lunges and tries to grab my phone, but I cling on, instinct taking over.

“No!” I shout, trying to hold it away from her.

With the hand that’s not trying to grab my phone, Mickie swings at my face with a closed fist.

The blow lands, and I stumble back, letting go of my phone.

Younger me might have cried or been shocked that she hit me so hard, even after all the episodes of violence before.

No matter how many times it happened when I was a kid, it always felt like a new betrayal, a wound I’d never forget.

My cheek throbs from the blow, which used to cause me to close in, fold in on myself, want to be small enough she wouldn’t strike again.

But I realize I don’t have to be the kid who backs down anymore.

Being small never stopped her. Fear isn’t what’s surging through me; it’s indignation and rage.

She’s got my phone in her hand, a smug smile on her lips, and I dig my hand into her hair, and I twist, just the way she used to do to me.

It’s the movement that always buckled my knees, caused my eyes to water, made me pliable.

“You’re going to get out of my fucking apartment,” I say, practically dragging her to the door, adrenaline surging through me.

“Let your mother go,” my father says, hands up. He’s always let her do the dirty work, perfectly content to watch with glee as she ruined me.

“Get the fuck out,” I rage, pointing at the door with my free hand.

He backs out, and I practically throw my mother out the door behind him. She spins and hurls my phone at me, aiming for my head, but I duck, and it skitters across the apartment floor.

“Don’t come back,” I say, slamming the door.

Fists pound on the other side, the same rage I just felt mirrored in her. I hate that I’ve inherited the ability to go there, to be that person, even if it’s in response to her.

“You think I’ll just take that? I’m not you, Hollyn. I don’t take shit like that from anyone. If you don’t give me my stuff back, I will kill you.” There’s venom in her voice.

Bluster, probably, but her threat still causes my heart to kick.

“And if I can’t get to you,” she says, her voice pitched low against the door, “I’ll pay you back through Kinsley instead.”

My eyes widen, and my stomach drops out.

One last boom of a fist resounds on the door, and then their step retreat, my mother cursing loudly and yelling more threats as she leaves.

Instead of going to the set like I’m supposed to, I grab my keys and head for Kinsley’s school. Looks like she’s getting a day off until I figure out how to fix the mess I created.