Scandalous (Sinners of Saint Book 3)

“MY MOM TRIED TO KILL herself.”

The words haunted me as I sped through the streets of Todos Santos toward Saint John’s hospital. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly what I was doing by rushing to her side. Her dad was probably there—he fucking better be—I thought angrily. I was the first person she’d called, and I wasn’t going to put a time limit on my stay there. The minute I’d received the call, I dropped Luna at Camila’s—I didn’t want them in the penthouse in case Edie wanted to crash there—and told her I’d need at least a few hours to sort through some personal shit and let her know when I’d be back.

Poor Edie.

Poor, poor Edie.

While my child’s mother was avoiding responsibilities at all costs, Edie tried to take care of everyone in her world while watching her youth slip between her fingers. I loathed myself for having assumed the worst about her. That she was a spoiled-ass kid who tried to steal money for the thrill of it, or just to be a cunt. Edie wasn’t a brat. She was dealing with a very ill mother and, apparently, was being blackmailed by her father, too.

I parked in a hurry and called Edie’s cell. She picked up on the third ring, making my fucking heart almost detonate inside my chest. And it was ironic, the way I’d thrived on her weaknesses when we first met, and now how desperately I wanted for her to cling onto her strength to survive this.

“Fourth floor, I’ll be outside room 412,” she whispered, like she didn’t want to disturb anyone. The journey to her was the longest I’d ever taken. The pale blue walls and tired, reassuring eyes of the hospital staff haunted me, slamming me with memories I’d wanted to forget.

“Your leg is broken. Your college scholarship is, well, not going to materialize, Trent.”

“Congratulations. It’s a girl. The mother will sign the birth certificate shortly. Here’s hoping she’ll give the kid your last name, eh?”

“She is fine. There is nothing wrong with her voice. She is just…well, anyway, I have the name of a really good child psychologist.”

I stopped by door 412, pressing my palm onto the cool wood and closing my eyes. I was past caring about Jordan at this stage. If he was there, asking questions, like why the fuck Edie had called me, I’d be frank. I rapped on the door three times, as softly as I could, turned around and paced the hallway.

Ten seconds later, Edie walked out. She was still wearing the same flowery #SunChaser tank top and tiny burgundy shorts that had made all the men at the party salivate. Only she no longer looked like Edie. She looked like someone ten years her senior. Ironically, someone I wouldn’t feel so horrified about sleeping with.

“Hey.” My voice came out soft, and I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, my face, my fucking being, so I approached her for an awkward hug, which she—thank fuck—returned. We stood there in a loose embrace outside her mother’s hospital room. I stared at the plain door; she stared at some banal painting behind me probably donated to the hospital by some rich asshole. Her shoulders were frail and so was her mind, I was sure. Time seemed to stand still just like we did, for a while, before she disconnected from me and looked down.

“Is she okay?” I asked. Was it wrong that I didn’t truly care? The only person I was interested in at that moment was Edie, and I wasn’t entirely sure if her mother’s recovery would be a good or a bad thing for her. Edie blew a lock of hair from her face, her eyes cutting to the mostly empty corridor behind us. A nurse was leaning lazily along an oval reception desk. Phones were ringing. A doctor was scribbling something on a whiteboard.

Edie was waiting for someone. For her fucking father, most likely.

“I don’t know. She is stable now, but…” She rubbed her face wearily, shaking her head. I wanted to suck her pain away and make it my own. “But she’s in a coma, Trent. Her vital organs are working, but she’s not conscious.” Her chin was quivering, and tears glimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether I should tell him…”

“You haven’t told your father yet?” I asked, caving into the urge to touch her. I stroked her arm, putting some reassuring weight on her body and encouraging her to lean into me. She shook her head, throwing another glance at the corridor. Edie sniffed.

“Let’s talk somewhere else. I have a long night ahead and I probably need to recharge.”

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Coconut water.” She almost smiled.

We walked to the cafeteria on the same floor. I got her a coconut water and got myself some coffee. We sat in front of a window overlooking our small, sinful town. Edie stirred her drink with a straw, staring at it.

“I told my father, but I hardly needed to. It’s all his fault. When we were at the barbecue, he arrived home without any notice and decided to break it to her that he wants a divorce. Mom…it’s not the first time she’s tried to kill herself…Anyway, so, my father. I texted him. He still hasn’t answered, but I’m not holding my breath. I was the only person to sit there beside her eight years ago when she first tried to slit her wrists, and I’m definitely not expecting anything to change now that he‘s left her.”

Fucking Van Der Zee. It was so fucking like him to pull shit like this. Leave a woman, who was so obviously ill, and his own daughter, who was in need of help, to pick up the pieces. I swallowed, my Adam’s apple bobbing, and tapped my fingers over my knee. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She scrunched her nose. “Really. I’m not even disappointed at this point. Not at him, anyway. But it would have been nice if she at least gave me a call before trying to do this. My mom is not a bad person. She is just troubled. But I still need her. Everybody needs a mom.”

My face must’ve contorted in agony, because she sucked on her lower lip and slapped the base of her palm to her forehead. “God, what a stupid thing to say. Sorry.”

“No need. You’re right. Everybody does need a mom. Even my daughter. Maybe especially her.” But it wasn’t Luna I wanted to talk about. A sudden urge to touch Edie coursed through me, and I slid my hand from my thigh to her knee, squeezing it softly. Not to seduce, but to comfort.

“When you said you didn’t know whether or not to tell him…you didn’t mean Jordan, Edie.”

She cautiously turned my palm upward, lacing our fingers together. We both watched our hands like they were magic. My big mocha fingers wrapped around her tiny snowy ones. The light outside was dying and so was my will to keep this thing between us casual.

It wasn’t casual.

It had never been casual.

It was a fucking disaster, and I needed to end it before it ended me, but how could I, when her mother was in a coma and she was holding my hand like I was her friend, like I was her boyfriend, like I was her lover.

I looked up and she was no longer crying. Her face was jeweled by hatred, her jaw cut.

“Theo,” she said.

“Theo?” I echoed. I had a feeling I’d heard that name before, but I wasn’t sure when or where. Obviously, there were a shit-ton of Theos. But there was a nagging itch inside me insisting that the Theo she was talking about, I knew. Or at least knew of.

“Yeah. My brother. He was born when I was six. He is twelve now. But…there were some complications at his birth. Mom was induced twice. The umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, but she was already deep into labor and they couldn’t perform a C-section. He was deprived of oxygen for…a long time.” She cleared her throat, looking up and furrowing her brows, reminiscing.

“I remember asking my mother why he was so funny looking, even before we found out about all his problems. My father freaked out. He was a senior executive in this fancy-ass company and was working hard on his image. He didn’t want this to taint his precious career and his perfect family. He got an offer to open a branch in Holland and took it, but it was mostly to hide Theo. He has autism, epilepsy, and cerebral palsy. He is…different. Very different.” She chuckled, but her eyes were softening. As if talking about him soothed her. “But he is also smart. And kind. And so, so brave. He is patient, and accepting, and always smiles at me when I visit him like I’m the best thing in the world. He doesn’t complain about my parents never visiting. He doesn’t cry about being dealt this hand of cards, this kind of life. So I’m rooting for him. I root for him all the time.”

My hand felt sweaty in hers, but I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted to know more.

“So where is Theo now?”

“A special group home in San Diego. It’s actually an amazing facility, but it costs a ton. My father wanted him sent away, somewhere on the East Coast, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with his proximity. The staff really encourage families to visit consistently and participate, and Jordan doesn’t like it. I don’t think he’s visited him in years. My mom goes every Christmas to say hi and bring a gift. But, in order to keep him there, my father and I agreed I’d pay half of the monthly fee. Otherwise he’d take him away from me.”

I scoffed. “That’s got to be a ton.”

“Twelve thousand dollars.” She nodded.

“Why? He’s got enough money to start a war with Canada. And win, probably.”

“To see me squirm. To watch me fail. You name it. Ever since Jordan realized I wasn’t going to give up on my brother and actually continued seeing him every week and made him a part of our family, he’s been bitter toward me. He fails to see why I insist on staying here and not going to a good college.”

“And your mom?”

“Too weak to handle Jordan, too fragile to deal with Theo and his needs. The first time she tried to take her own life…” Edie hesitated, placing her elbows on her knees and burying her head between her hands. “It was right after my father put him in this institution. She wanted him close. She wanted to take care of him. But doing so was taking a toll on her. She wanted to be a good mother, but couldn’t.”

I wondered, briefly, if that was the case with Val, too. If she wanted to be better for Luna, but couldn’t, so she’d decided to fuck off instead. I brought our hands to my lips, pressing a kiss against her soft skin. She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment.

I was broken, but she was breaking, and that hurt more.

“So that’s why you’re after me? Your dad threatens you with sending Theo away?”

Edie nodded again and retrieved her hand. The tears made a comeback. Again, she didn’t let them fall. I admired that.

“He said if I don’t get my hands on your flash drive, Theo will be sent to New York.”

“I can give you my flash drive sans the information he is looking for,” I offered without thinking it through. Why the fuck would I care if Jordan had his hands on a bunch of contracts and contact lists he already had access to? It made zero difference to me. And most of my flash drive had just that. A bunch of shit you could find in the company’s records if you did a general search in our database. There was just the one file, leading to a few other files, with information he actually wanted…

“He knows, Trent. Whatever you’re planning, he is not stupid. He’s already figured out whatever you have on him is on your flash drive, and he expects it to be there.”

Good point. Especially as I knew how and why he’d found out about it. I stood up and paced in front of her.

“The thing is…they only let me see Theo on Saturdays. Which is why Saturdays are sacred to me. If I try to go tomorrow, they won’t let me in. I think my father is bribing someone there or something.”

“That’s why you hate rich people so much.” I rubbed the back of my head, staring at the floor as I paced. It was simple, when you thought about it. Her father chose his career and money over his family, and so she hated money and her father—the two things that ruined her life.

“Yeah.” Her hands dropped to her thighs, her head hanging down. “Money makes people do stupid things. It eats at your morals and makes you lose sight of what’s really important.”

“Not always,” I argued. I didn’t feel that way. Maybe because I didn’t come from money, I knew you could, and should, survive without it. But I loved my life as a rich man. I just didn’t love it enough to give up the things that kept me alive. My daughter, parents, and friends. I’d spend every dollar I had, give it up in a heartbeat if I could get Luna’s voice back.

She looked up, shooting me a tired smile. “You’re a good man, Trent.”

I didn’t know about that, but the notion I should be good, even if just for her, gripped me hard.

We hung out there for another half hour, then I went out to grab us some sandwiches from a nearby joint. We sat on the damp, dewed benches outside the hospital before returning to the reception area of the fourth floor. Edie was chewing on the collar of her top like a kid, looking out the window. She’d tried to call her father twice since I’d arrived. He never picked up the phone.

“You should probably leave. It’s getting really late and Luna will be worried. Plus, it doesn’t look like I’ll get out of here anytime soon, so…”

“I’m staying.” I brushed off her nervousness. Not because it was the humane thing to do—because fuck humane—but because she was there alone, and I selfishly wanted her with me. No matter how. Even like this.

“You really shouldn’t.” She let go of the damp collar of her shirt, biting her lip now.

Our eyes met. “I know.”

Edie rested her head against my shoulder and wept, and I let her.

Even when she fell asleep on me, and I couldn’t move, I waited until her soft snores drifted into my ears.

Then I carried her quietly to her mother’s room, tucking her on a sofa next to the hospital bed. The light was still on. They were both too exhausted to care. My gaze traveled between them, and they looked so similar, and yet so different.

That night, I watched Edie for far too long.

That night, I’d changed.

That night, I didn’t take anything from Edie Van Der Zee. For the first time in years—I gave something of myself. Worst part? I’d never be able to retrieve it.

It was hers.

Forever.