Page 155 of Possessive Sinner
Deep down, her words from yesterday keep echoing. The way she accused me of never being there for her. That's when Irealize it wasn't just Pete weighing me down. She is part of that weight, too. I just never let myself name it before.
If you move in with Gabe, he'll find a nice place for Mom, a treacherous little voice whispers.A real home. Proper care. Security. I shove the thought away hard. I can't base my life on getting rid of her. That's not fair to either of us.
"I'm telling you," Mom starts again, like she's been waiting for an opening, "you need to come back."
I close my eyes briefly. "Mom?—"
"No, listen." Her tone turns serious. "Men like Gabriel D'Amato? They don't come around twice. He likes you. That's obvious. And men like that—powerful men—they protect what they like."
Protect.Is that what he's doing? Or am I just… convenient? A piece on the board I don't fully understand yet.
"I don't know what he wants from me," I admit quietly.
That's the truth of it. The part that won't settle. Mom waves it off, I can practically see her doing it through the phone. "Does it matter? He kept us safe. While your dead husband nearly got you killed, Audra. And then where would I have been? Did you ever think about that?"
"Yeah, yeah. Pete, Pete, Pete," she says it like his name is an inconvenience. "Pete was… nice. He wasn't right for you. That man is."
I stop myself from rolling my eyes. Because… translation: Gabe is the kind of man who can offerhera better life. Better than Pete ever could. Anger sparks hot and sharp inside me. Has she always been this much of a user? Using me. Using Pete?
"Mom, I can't just jump in with Gabe. Pete is barely?—"
She interrupts, "You're scared."
"No shit."
"Not of him."
That makes me pause. In my mind, I see her head tilt, watching me too closely. "You're scared of wanting him."
My breath catches.Is that true?
"Mom—"
"Don't," she cuts me off. "Don't lie to me. I heard you, remember? And I've seen the way you look at him."
Heat crawls up my neck, a messy tangle of annoyance, embarrassment, and guilt.
"I just watched my husband die," I snap.
"And?" she shoots back. "Does that mean you stop feeling? Stop wanting? Stop being alive?"
"Yes," I bite out. "That's exactly what it means."
But even as I say it, I know it's a lie. At least for me. Because my body didn't get the memo. My mind didn't. And definitely whatever twisted, hungry part of me that keeps pulling me back toward Gabe like gravity didn't.
Mom sighs dramatically. "I'm just saying… if you come back now, we can fix this."
Fix this.Like I didn't threaten his men. Like I didn't burn part of his kitchen and walk out. Like he'd just forgive me.
A strange, unsettling thought slips in anyway.Would he?
He was nice enough in our texts. He even joked about it.
The doorbell rings. "Mom, I've got to go."
Just like yesterday, there is nobody there, but there's a large basket with an even larger bow on top.
"Let me help you." From out of nowhere, Brick emerges, carrying a box bearing the picture of the coffee maker I loved so much in Gabe's kitchen.
