Page 176 of Chasing Hope

Evie’s hand, still linked in mine, squeezes, urging me to go on despite her ragged breathing.

Blowing out all the air in my lungs, I force the next words out. “My parents for once saw their wrongdoing. To either satisfy their guilt or make me feel better, they took me to the local fair that was in town for the holidays.”

Evie stiffens at my side.

“I was on the merry-go-round, sitting on one of the horses. One moment, my parents were there with grim expressions and lackluster waves as I called out for their attention. On the next loop, they were on their phones with that look in their eyes they got when they were talking about something medical. By the next loop, they were gone.”

The swell of panic and sadness that I felt back then again emerges at the memory. I try to tame it, try to swallow it down, but no matter how much I force it down, my voice cracks when I speak again, sounding like gravel. “I got off the ride and couldn’t find them. I sat on the bench where they were standing until closing time. It wasn’t until a security guard came over and asked where they were that I knew it was different this time. He tried to call them after I gave him their numbers but of course their phones were off.”

Evie turns to me, silver glistening in her eyes as she lifts a shaky hand to my cheek. For once in my life, I find it impossible to look at her directly. “Turns out there was a train collision. Hundreds dead and dozens in need of emergency surgery. They saved a lot of lives that night,” I say remotely, spewing the words they told me once they finally showed up. “The security guard called the police because of how late it was. I sat in the station for twelve hours with officers giving me pitying looks the entire time.”

“Did they not call child protective services?” Evie asks, the anger in her voice barely restrained.

“They did.”

My voice is cold, utterly flat. It sounds nothing like the storm raging in my heart right now. I’ve been pulled under and I can’t swim out of the rip, no matter which way I go.

“And they did nothing?” she asks, stunned.

“Nothing. My parents said the sitter left me and gave me a look that said I should go along with their story. I’ll never forget it. No guilt in their expressions, just concern for themselves and how it would affect their precious reputations.”

Evie slowly rises. I’m stunned as she moves to straddle me, her hands coming up to clutch my cheeks and tip my head back to gaze at her.

“What they did was horrendous. They didn’t deserve to have you and they should have never been parents in the first place, but all of that is on them, Matteo. It wasneveryou.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Tears sting my eyes, throat working overtime to try and quelch the emotion, but as Evie keeps her gaze on me, waiting, her touch so gentle, they can’t be held back.

My brows furrow, my voice rough as a raw vulnerability I’ve never shown before rises. “Do you know what it feels like to not be wanted by your own parents? How fucking isolating it is? How much it hurts? I tried everything, Evie. I even tried to say that I wanted to be a doctor, and my father scoffed at me. Theyhatedme. Despised my existence. Do you know what that did to me?”

Tears cascade down my cheeks, but Evie catches every single one with her thumbs.

“My entire life I felt unwanted, unloved, and never good enough. Even now as successful as I am, they couldn’t care less. They didn’t even notice I wasn’t speaking to them. It took them months to notice. Months, Evie.”

A choked sob breaks free from my chest, the sound stunning me.

“They never loved me,” I confess brokenly.

Evie pulls me to her chest, wrapping her arms around me, soothing me with comforting words and gentle touches.

I’ve never lost it like this with anyone, have never sobbed like I am now. I’ve never felt safe enough, not even with Caleb, but here in Evie’s arms, I let the sadness that has been drowning me out.

I cough it up like water as she resuscitates me.

“I have always wanted you, Matteo,” she whispers in my ear. “I have always cherished you, have always cared for you. You have always been enough in my eyes.”

Her words ever so slowly begin to stitch the wound shut. Not permanently, as it’s still bleeding, but it’s holding me together. It always will, I think, because the most isolating feeling in the world is knowing that the people who created you believe you to be a nuisance rather than a blessing.

Some women pray for children, beg whoever they believe in for a child. Then there’s my parents, handed one and hating every second of it.

I’ll never understand why my mother didn’t get an abortion, why she’d choose to make an innocent child suffer through the pain of knowing they aren’t wanted or loved. If it weren’t for the Ellington’s, I genuinely don’t know if I would have survived my parents’ cruelty.

Silence can be just as cruel as words.

Sometimes I’d fantasized about them yelling at me because then at least they were acknowledging me. At least then they were using energy to talk to me.

I walked around that house like a ghost, never acknowledged, never spoken to. They only gave me any time of day when it benefited them, and that was rare. They were in surgeries constantly saving lives all the while killing mine.