Page 58 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
Fern smiled a not-so nice smile. "You can keep that. I had that copy printed out in colour. It's quite detailed for a four-year-old, isn’t it? You know what to do. With or without your help, these allegations are going to be dropped. It's only a matter of what you are going to jail for. And whether Jacob will ever acknowledge you as his mother."
Connor stayed seated a heartbeat longer, pinned by the look on Matilda's face. There was confusion there now, beneath the anger. A flicker of fear she clearly didn't like feeling. She no longer held all the aces.
"Connor," she said again, softer this time. Her eyes shone with tears, the way they did when she'd shown up drunk on his doorstep at two in the morning. "Connor, please. You know I didn't mean to hurt her. I wasn't myself. You know that. We… we can fix this. If you just tell them—"
"Don't," he said.
"Don't ever talk to me again," he went on, standing. The legs of his chair scraped loudly. "Don't contact me. Don't try to find me. And don't ever come near my family again. Because if you do, I swear to god, you will not like what happens next."
Her gaze darkened, the tears vanishing as quickly as they'd appeared. Venom slid over her expression like oil. "Fine," she spat. "Fern doesn't want you either. Who would? You're stupid. A useless nobody who can barely read. You followed me around like a stray. You deserved all of this."
He absorbed the hit, felt the blow land, then let it pass through. Because Matilda had lost her hold over him.
"I have been weak and blind," he said quietly. "I have been terrified that I would lose my family. But I will never be with you. I never wanted you, Matilda. Fern is everything you're not. You are poison; she’s my light."
Matilda stared back at him, as if unable to believe what she was hearing. It was like the dog she had abused all her life finally bit her hand.
Fern smoothly pushed back her chair. "Our time's almost up. We've said what we came to say."
She walked to the door and waited for the nurse to let them out, her back straight.
"Fern," Matilda said sharply.
The door opened with abeepand aclick, and Fern stepped out without a backward glance.
Connor leaned forward just enough so she couldn't mistake the resolve on his face. "Do not contact me again. If you have anything to say, you can talk to my lawyer."
He turned and walked out before she could answer.
Fern was waiting at the nurses' station. She'd heard every word; he could see it in the set of her mouth, the way her eyes had lost some of the hardness.
He had no idea what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Contempt? Indifference?
"We should give that drawing to the police," he said as they walked back toward the lockers. "It's important evidence. They need to see it."
Fern's lips curved, just slightly. "And what makes you think they don't already have it?"
He blinked.
She took her handbag from the locker, slinging it over her shoulder in one smooth motion.
"I'm not as slow, Connor," she added, a hint of something he couldn't quite pinpoint in her voice. "Come on. Let's go rescue Papa from Coral's clutches. I believe their plan was to visit the toy section in Tesco after the park."
He fell into step beside her, still shaken but unspeakably relieved. Somewhere behind them, a woman who had once controlled his every step sat alone with a child's drawing and a choice, which really, was no choice at all.
For the first time since this nightmare started four years ago, he could sense freedom in the horizon.
Chapter 28
Connor had been quiet all week. He moved through the house like he was trying not to disturb a sleeping bear. After that first day, Connor had moved his things into Coral's room, though Fern suspected he barely slept at all. Every morning he was up before sunrise, helping them pack boxes, fold clothes, and slowly dismantle their life together. He had the estate agent come in to take pictures, and already, there was a 'For Sale' sign outside.
Fern ignored him as best she could. After that first night, she had told him that she needed space, and she had watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed with glassy eyes before he nodded. She was not going to leave him to the tender mercies of the local coven of witches, but that didn't mean all was forgiven. He'd forfeited the right to touch her.
But that night—after she'd verbally bitch-slapped Matilda, the sea crone into next week—Connor had pulled her into a sudden, bruising embrace and whispered, "Thank you," into her hair. His breath had shuddered like he'd been holding it for months.
She wasn't unaffected. Connor was a painfully handsome man who ticked every one of her boxes. But she had a father who'd taught her exactly what became of a partner who trusted too easily. And Connor? Connor had been lying to her from day one.
Lying by omission was still lying.
