Page 29 of Fragile Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #3)

I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of looking into the house I share with Owen and seeing it destroyed. This was the first place I ever called home, and now that security, that sanctuary has been stolen from me. This was an intentional violation, full of hate and wanting only one thing.

Money.

Owen can call it a random break-in all he wants, but we both know that’s not true. The timing is way too coincidental to be anything but my mother. That meet-up with her was to ask for money, and if she wasn’t going to come right out and ask for it, she was going to get it anyway she could.

Everyone on the island knows the Sinclair name.

It’s not a secret that Owen’s family is one of the richest here, so seeing my name in the media attached to his, she saw her opportunity.

But I never thought she’d take it this far.

Breaking into my house, and just as I think it, I realize it wasn’t just about breaking in. She’s stolen from us too.

It was always about the money, money I don’t have, but she knows there are things in this house she could steal, pawn and collect cash. All untraceable because those are the types of people she keeps around. Ones who know how to break the law and not get caught.

I step into the house, Mochi still in my arms, not wanting to be put down. The poor thing must have been terrified, and I’m so glad he wasn’t hurt. I would have never forgiven myself for leaving him here.

Carefully moving through the house, Owen following behind me, I look at the dining room table where Owen and I study, our books thrown around, and I know what’s missing.

“She took our laptops,” I whisper, not trying to shy away from the fact that I know this was my mother.

“And your Xbox.” I point to the small console shelf where it used to sit.

She took everything she could carry out of here without it being obvious, leaving the TV, the sound system, anything too large to take quickly.

“And my headphones,” Owen adds, and the second I hear his voice, I break down.

The tears are falling hard and fast, the silent sob escaping my lips when I pull in a ragged breath. This is my fault. All of this is my fault.

If I didn’t move in with Owen, none of this would have happened.

He was unknowingly dragged into this mess when I finally took a chance on him, but this is exactly the reason I didn’t want to.

I never wanted him to see what my life was like before I moved in with Alana and Daisy because there’s no way he would have wanted anything to do with me.

“I’m sorry,” I stutter, the words coming out slow and choppy as Mochi licks at the tears that run down my cheeks. “This is my fault.”

As soon as I admit it out loud, I hope to feel lighter, but I don’t. The guilt just pulls tighter in my stomach, nausea churning at how awful this all is.

All I’ve ever wanted in my life was a place of my own, something safe and quiet, a place to retreat to when life got to be too much, and I found it here with Owen. But that’s all about to change, and I knew this was all too good to be true.

“Babe,” Owen croons, coming up beside me, his arms wrapping me in a comforting embrace. “None of this is your fault. You have no control over what anyone else does.”

Again, he doesn’t admit it was my mom. He’s too good of a person to place blame without having facts, and that makes him an amazing person. Even on his worst day, he will always be better than me on my best day.

It’s what made me fall in love with him. It’s what makes me want to stay. It’s what makes me want to run to him when shit gets too real. He is my everything.

“I can’t be here when the police come,” I tell him, and he holds me closer, his lips pressing softly to my hair.

My eyes close, and I try to picture what our house looked like before she trashed it, before she did the one thing she knew would destroy me.

I let my mind remind me of the unease I felt moving in here and the day I laid Owen out when he came home unexpectedly.

It floats through all the moments that happened slowly but effortlessly, and how one day, Owen’s house became my home.

It was something I dreamed about since I was a kid, something I made happen without anyone’s help but Owen’s.

She doesn’t get to take this from me. She’s taken enough already. But even as I say this, it’s hard to recover from all this trauma. It creeps back in when I let my guard down. My life will never just be settled knowing my mother is around, knowing she can do something like this.

“Go to Alana and Flynn’s,” Owen says. He’s still wrapped around me, his hold never loosening, never making me feel like he isn’t here for me. “Pack some things and take Mochi. I’ll meet you there after the police leave.”

He’s calm and composed, each word is said with thought and precision, and I don’t have to explain to him why I can’t be here. He would never push for me to share anything I’m not comfortable sharing, but in this situation, I owe him.

“I’m sorry,” I start, but Owen shakes his head, turning so he’s facing me, taking my face in his hands. His thumbs brush along my cheeks, swiping away the tears. All of this is so overwhelming, and my go-to is to apologize, to try to smooth things over.

As a kid, it was always my go-to in the hopes that things wouldn’t fall apart, but they always did. It didn’t matter how many times I apologized, how quiet I was or how much I tried to do everything right, it never worked.

“Sloane, you never have to apologize. None of this is your fault. None of it,” he says, his words firm.

“I’ve told you this before, and I’m going to say it again until you believe me.

I will spend the rest of my life showing you that none of this is your fault, that you’re worth the risk.

You’re worth all of this.” He tosses a hand around, signaling to the mess around us.

With his fingers under my chin, he lifts my eyes to his, and when I look at him, his gaze is intense and filled with so much affection I can feel it radiate through me.

“This is why I have insurance. All of this is just stuff, and it can be replaced. What can’t be replaced is you and Mochi, and you’re safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

And just when I think the tears are stopping, they pick back up again, flooding my eyes and streaming down my cheeks.

Mochi lets out a whimper, and Owen laughs, reaching over to rub his fluffy head. “He doesn’t like it when you cry,” Owen says, kissing my forehead.

“Then you gotta stop saying shit like that,” I tease between sniffles, trying to push this awfulness aside.

“I won’t ever stop saying it,” he says with sincerity. “It doesn’t matter to me if this happens again or if your mom shows up, it won’t ever make me stop loving you. You are not your mom. You aren’t that girl you were when you were little. You are strong and resilient. You’re my little fighter.”

Fuck, he’s so good. So damn good to me.

I won’t let this define me, and I’m not going to run, even though that was my first thought. But I can’t live that way anymore, and I’m not leaving when the police come.

I need to confront this head-on instead of trying to hide from it.

“I’m not going to Alana’s. She doesn’t get to run me out of my house,” I start, refusing to call her my mother.

She’s dead to me after this. It’s something I should have done years ago, but I wasn’t strong enough to see how it was affecting me.

Carrying around all that trauma from my past, blaming myself, but she’s the only one who is to blame.

“Call the police. I’m staying here, and I’m telling them I know it was her,” I demand, pulling myself together, wiping away the tears.

Ten minutes later, the police are knocking on the door. Owen and I haven’t touched a thing in the house, but we discovered the back door had been pried open, breaking the lock along with the doorframe. It needs to be fixed, but it’s something Owen says he can do.

We introduce ourselves to the two officers who have arrived, and they take in the house, then ask if they can look around.

One of them begins to walk through the house, taking notes about what he sees, while the other one asks us a few questions.

“Anything missing from the home?” he asks, and Owen tells him what we’ve noticed is missing, but neither of us have ventured too far from the living room area.

The officer notes this and then asks, “Any cash or credit cards kept in the home?”

“No,” Owen says, shaking his head, looking over at me, and I respond with the same. I don’t even have any disposable income to my name, which I’m grateful for in this instance.

He asks a few more basic questions, just as the other officer is returning. It’s been pretty simple, and while I’m still upset, still stressed, they’ve made the process easy.

But then one of the officers says, “Generally, we don’t find the people who do these petty break-ins. It sucks, and I’m sorry to tell you that, but it’s the nature of the situation.”

“It was my mother,” I blurt out, and while I can’t be one hundred percent certain with no real evidence, it would be way too coincidental.

She shows up out of nowhere, when I’m shown in the media with my wealthy boyfriend, and then our house gets broken into.

I guess it’s possible she sent one of her friends to do her dirty work, but after the conversation I had with her the other day, this is her way of getting revenge. She doesn’t want me to have a good life because she’s done her best to ruin it, to make me just like her.

But I will never be like her. She’s made sure it’s the last thing I want, especially after seeing her and now this.

The officers both look at me, almost shocked expressions on their faces at my admission. “What makes you think it’s your mother?” one of them asks, pulling his notebook out again, poised and ready for me to share.

“I have a very contentious relationship with my mother. She’s a drug addict and recently got back in touch with me after years of basically nothing.

After abandoning me as a kid. Last week, I told her I didn’t want anything to do with her.

” I pause, taking in the mess, reminding me of what she’s capable of. “This is her revenge.”

“We can try to locate her and interview her, but without any concrete evidence, there isn’t much else we can do,” the officer says, and this is why she does shit like this. She gets away with it.

“Can’t you dust for prints?” Owen interjects.

“We don’t tend to because the areas touched by the suspect tend to be the same areas that you would touch, making it nearly impossible to get clean prints,” the officer explains.

“But you’ll check in with her?” Owen asks, and the officers nod, taking down her name, although I don’t have an address to give them.

“We’ll try our best, but without her just admitting to it, there’s not much else we can do.

We suggest you don’t stay here tonight,” the officer says, motioning to the back door that no longer locks.

“We’ll get it boarded up for you, and we’ll follow up with you if we’re able to get any other information.

We’re sorry this occurred, and sorry that these types of people generally don’t get caught. ”

“Thanks, but I can take care of it,” Owen says about the door as he extends a hand. But he doesn’t sound too happy with their answer, and to be honest, I’m not either.

What kind of person does this to their own daughter? But to her, I’m nothing more than an opportunity for money, which will allow her to get her next fix.

Just as Owen is walking the officers to the door, his phone chimes with an incoming text. He stops in the doorway as the officers make their way to their cruiser, and I come up behind him.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he looks over the text before showing me the screen as he mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I don’t recognize the name, but it’s obviously someone Owen knows because their contact information is in his phone.

Drew Townsend: Dude, someone just came in and tried to pawn your laptop. Didn’t even bother taking the stickers off.

“It’s a buddy I know from school,” Owen tells me. “His family owns a pawn shop, and he works there sometimes. We study together, so I’m guessing he recognized my laptop from that.”

Without giving it a second thought, Owen jogs out the door and catches up to the officers before they can back out of the driveway.

I don’t hear what happens, but there’s a huge possibility this could lead to the police catching her, and I feel this sudden sense of relief.