The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,110
But this is everything. Brendan orchestrated the worst night of my life. Now that I think of it, it was his security app that got us into The Point party. He controlled it all … except for Vic. And because of that, a girl’s in a coma, and Vic’s hurting everyone I care about.
A warm hand wraps around my forearm. I stop. Grant motions for me to sit next to him. I lift up onto the bed and collapse against his side when he wraps an arm around me.
“What’s more important—intention or action?”
I tilt my head up, confounded. “Huh?”
“His intentions were to understand why his mother took her life. It sounds like it became his obsession, and I’m sure you can understand how it must have been for him, finding the letter and the pictures.”
I don’t say anything, knowing he’s referencing the letters and pictures I’ve received all summer and what that’s done to me.
“He set it up so you’d be sent to Blackwood. Granted, it didn’t go as he’d planned. And his plan was extremely flawed to begin with. But he wasn’t the one who had the gun, used it to rob the store or pushed a girl down the stairs. The guy who did do that is now out of control and is threatening everyone in your life, including Brendan. All for the same reason that both of you are trying to understand. It has to do with your parents and whatever happened … that summer.”
“What are you saying?”
“You don’t have to like him. Or forgive him. But if you want Vic to stop, to be held accountable, then you need Brendan.”
I shoot to my feet. “No way!”
Grant releases a long breath. “Trust me, I don’t like it either. But I don’t see a way around it. Especially when none of the adults who were there are willing to help.”
He takes my hand and gently pulls me to him. I stand between his legs and rest my head on his shoulder.
I hate that he’s making sense. “I want this to be over,” I mutter against his neck.
Grant rubs my back. “Me too, Sweets.”
When we walk back into the living room, I stop short. Brendan has the entire contents of my mother’s box spread over the coffee table and floor. He’s seated on the throw rug with his back against the leather chair, flipping through pages, discarding them haphazardly when he doesn’t find anything of interest.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I exclaim.
“Reading really pathetic love letters, apparently,” Brendan answers casually, pulling another letter from an envelope.
“And what gave you the right to do that?” I demand, getting on my knees to pick up the papers. It’s impossible to figure out what page went with which envelope, so I start shuffling them into a pile.
“I guess the same right you had when you took the box from your mother,” he answers dismissively. “Ah, here. She received the same letter.”
I plop down on my butt. “What?”
“From Julia Thorne.” Brendan hands a single page of heavy stationery to me. “Not quite the same message, but ultimately the same meaning.”
I take it from him and read it.
Dear Faye,
I hope this letter finds you and Lana well. I know life hasn’t been what you expected. Destiny took an unexpected turn and led us down a thorned path. And I’m sorry it wasn’t what was meant for you. But I hope you find some solace when you look upon your daughter’s face. She is a precious gift. I trust you feel the same.
I have recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctors give me a year, if I’m lucky. So I am laying down my sword and bowing my head in concession to this battle. I’m done fighting. There have been too many tragedies already in this life. I know this is my penance, and I will accept it with grace. But before I depart, I seek to make amends. I hope you’ll accept my gesture and grant me forgiveness.
Sincerely,
Julia Thorne
I can’t tear my eyes away from the words, written with such eloquence in beautiful penmanship. She knew. Whatever happened, she was there, or she caused it. Or didn’t stop it.
“What was different about the letter to your mother?” I ask, scanning the lines again like I might be able to find a hidden meaning if I study it enough.
“It wasn’t that different. Except …”
I look up when he goes quiet. Brendan wears an expression of consternation.