Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,79
“Well, it looks like my visiting hour with you is over.”
I twist around in my seat and see Sinclair coming my way. My relief at seeing him is palpable. I thought he wasn’t going to come back. And if he didn’t, I couldn’t have blamed him. Even I was scared of the side that came out of me that day. It’s humiliating that Sinclair saw me at my lowest point. If I could go back and redo that moment I would.
He walks toward me. He smiles, but it’s strained, as if the incident has tortured him and drained him of energy. For a second, I fear that he’s here just to tell me that he’s giving up and never going to see me again. That can’t happen.
Before he makes it to the table, I stand up and meet him halfway. I don’t want to talk to him with multiple sets of eyes on me. I point to my right, where the magazine rack is. “Let’s go over there.”
He follows behind me closely enough that as I weave around the tables his arm brushes my back. The action sets my skin on fire. When we reach the corner, I lean against the wall. I have to stop myself from wrapping my arms around him and never letting go.
Saying “hello” or “how are you” seems lame. And pointless. The more I see of the past and the relationship I had with Sinclair, the more desperate I become for his presence.
Sinclair clears his throat. He shifts from foot to foot as though what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I think we need to talk about what happened in the rec room a few days ago.”
“I think we shouldn’t.”
“Victoria…”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“But I have to know what happened. I walk in and you had her pinned to the floor and you were choking her.”
I grab a fistful of my hair and start to tug. Sometimes the riot of emotions inside me is too much to take. Like now. I just want to sort them, put them in their proper places. Maybe then I will breathe easier.
Sinclair’s hands curl around my wrists. Very gently, he pulls my hands away from my head. I lift my head and see concern written all over his face.
“All I want to do is help you. That’s all I’ve wanted these past six months, okay?” His voice comes out in a ragged whisper. “Talk to me and tell me what you’re feeling. I love you and whatever pain you’re feeling, I feel it too.”
Hearing those words coming from him gives me relief. I want it to matter to him. To Sinclair Montgomery.
I take a deep breath. “S-she said I would be a bad mom.” My anger starts to fade as I speak, and is replaced with sadness. It’s ridiculous. Reagan and I have smoothed everything over. But this moment is just a perfect opportunity to show that you can forgive someone, but you can never forget their words.
“Victoria?” Sinclair says gently. “That’s not true. You know that, right?”
I say nothing.
“She was trying to get a rise out of you.”
I bark out a laugh and wipe the tears off my cheeks. “Yeah. Well, it worked.” Suddenly I feel so stupid.
One of Sinclair’s hands curves around my shoulder and gently pulls me to him. “You’re not a bad mom and you never will be.”
I lift my head. “Maybe she’s right though. She’s crazy, but some of the craziest people are the smartest—they say what everyone else is thinking!”
“No,” he says quietly but fiercely. “Don’t ever think that.”
I keep talking as if Sinclair never spoke. “As Reagan said all this, I glanced down at my hands, and saw that Evelyn wasn’t even with me. I gave her to the nurse.”
“All moms need a break.”
“But good moms don’t. Good moms protect their child.”
“That’s not true,” he laments.
We are silent. I don’t have to crack open a piece of my soul for him to see just how much Reagan’s words hurt. He’s already inside me. He sees it all.
I tear my eyes away from the floor and glance at Sinclair beneath my lashes. “Are you going to give up on me now?”
Sinclair frowns. He looks defeated and his shoulders sag as if the weight of the world is upon them. “I told you once that I wouldn’t leave you here alone and I meant that.”
All I can do is smile.
Sinclair looks around and lowers his voice. “Are you remembering more?”
I nod. “I