Page 86 of Threads That Bind Us

“Mother, enough.” I demand, but Ana’s looking at me with her brow furrowed, and I can feel my heart breaking in my chest. She’s going to hate me.

“February. After my surgery.” I close my eyes, trying to collect myself.

“And how long did she say they had been together?” If that’s fucking glee I can detect in Isabelle’s voice, Charlie’s going to have to do a stellar job of convincing me not to kill her.

“Ana, you don’t have to listen to this,” Charlie offers, and when she turns to him, I can already see the pain replacingtrust.

“Six months.” Her voice is small, timid, nothing like the Ana I know.

“Strange, then, that your father called to tell me that Guinevere offered to crawl into his bed over dinner in February. An odd thing to do, for a woman in love.”

Isabelle’s words hit their mark, even if they’re half a lie. I don’t know who’s embellishing—Ben or Isabelle—but there will be consequences. I have no reservations about ripping Ben limb from limb.

“I don’t understand,” Ana says, waiting for me to meet her gaze before she continues. “Why were you at dinner with Ben?”

“It’s not what she’s say—” I start, but my mother speaks right over me, and I can see Charlie restraining himself from lashing out at her.

“For money, of course,” she laughs, like it’s something funny. Like destroying her daughters in front of her is a game. “She’s told you how awful I am for dating men with money, and she goes to your own father, offering herself up for some cash.”

Ana and I can only stare at each other. I watch her put together the pieces, retrace the timeline in her mind.

“You promised me.” But she’s not talking to me. She turns to Charlie, shaking his hand off her shoulder. “You promised me you weren’t here because you pitied the cancer kid.”

“Ana…” I start, but tears start flowing as Ana whips around.

“You promised me, too, that you weren’t changing your life for me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her glare so familiar I know it’s a twin to mine. “You lied to me. We don’t lie to each other.”

“It’s complicated, Ana,” I start again, my own tears welling in my eyes. But she just shakes her head, unwilling to accept that.

“I’m done being fucking lied to.” She turns to Charlie, and Iknow he won’t be able to keep the truth from her. “Did you give my sister money for my treatment?”

He looks at me, and I can see him asking for forgiveness. But it’s not needed. Ana’s right, she deserves the truth, or as much of it as we can give her.

“Yes,” he admits, and pain flashes through her eyes. She twists back to face me.

“Did he force you to sleep with him in exchange for the money?”

My eyes pop open, panic taking over and constricting my chest. I try to reach out for her, but she pulls away.

“No.” I leave no room for second guessing. “Charlie and I came to an arrangement. He helped with the cost of treatment, and I agreed to eventually marry him. But I promise,” I emphasize, my voice cracking, “I promise you I really do love him. This started out as something else, and I’m sorry I lied to you, but I’m telling you the truth now.”

Ana shakes her head, and I don’t know if it’s in disbelief or because she’s overwhelmed.

“Oh, please,” Isabelle cuts in. “You can’t exactly trust her.”

Charlie glares at Isabelle, the promise of a long, painful death obvious in his eyes. But it’s Ana who speaks up.

“And I can trust you?” she demands, and Isabelle looks shocked. “I haven’t seen you in years, and the first thing you tell me is that my sister is a liar and a hypocrite. You don’t ask about me, or my treatment. You don’t know anything about me. I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’twantyou here.” She points to me, still sobbing, and I feel like my heart’s been ripped to shreds and shoved back in my chest. “She raised me. This is totally fucked, and I’m going to be mad about it for a long time, but I know she loves me.”

Ana steps back from all of us, grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and wiping her eyes.

“I need some space, and I need her gone,” Ana declares, waving off Isabelle.

Would be my fucking pleasure.

“Do you want me to call the McCallums?” I ask, my voice tight and wobbling with the effort not to cry.

“I can take the damn bus. Or I’m sure you can just call the lady who follows me around at school all the time?” She huffs at our bewildered looks, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “I’m not an idiot, guys. I assumed she was there because of Charlie’s work with the Foundation, but that’s probably a lie, too.”