Forgotten Promises (The Promises Series Book 2) (7 page)

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell me everything, okay? And we need to speak to Moira, too.”

I tense instantly and pull away from her embrace. “Moira knows. Well, not about the argument and the crash, I’m guessing, but she knows about the abuse.”

I’ve never seen my mom look so horrified before. She drops down onto the bed and shakes her head as if she can’t quite comprehend what I’m telling her.

“She
knows
?” she asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “A few weeks back, Moira told Ethan that she wasn’t his biological mother. He had no clue. She told him that she had no legal right to ever be able to take him away and that she was too scared of Frank to do anything. That’s why she let it happen.” I feel the prickly cold remains of the tears I didn’t know were falling bite against my cheeks as the air conditioning unit kicks in. I shiver and wipe my face. I want to curl up on the bed and pretend this isn’t happening. My stomach aches, my head throbs and my heart hurts. Mom’s sitting in stunned silence as I climb into the middle of the bed and curl up, hugging my knees into my chest. I tug at the blankets that have been made with military tight precision until they loosen and I can pull them over me. My stitches are wrenching from the awkwardness of my position and I welcome the discomfort; I’d gladly take this pain over the feeling of guilt that is consuming me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“What are you sorry for, honey?” Mom asks moving closer and stroking the hair back from my face.

“For not telling you, for not telling anyone. I’d convinced myself that I was doing the right thing. That I was protecting him, but all I was doing was protecting Frank. I pushed all the bad things I knew were happening to the back of my mind. Then I made a promise to him that ultimately I knew I could never keep. How could I have done that to him? I’m so angry with myself for staying quiet as long as did.” I sniff and move my glasses so that I can wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt. “I’m confused Mom; I’m mad that I made that promise, but at the same time I’m upset that I broke it too.”

“Oh, Blair.” She draws her legs up and spoons me as we both lie on my hospital bed sobbing, her for my pain and me for Ethan’s.

I wake to the sound of a heated conversation. My mind is hazy from sleep and my eyes feel puffy and hot from crying. I sit up stretching and assess my surroundings. I’m alone in my room, but I can hear the muffled tones of my mom’s voice. I look down at my phone charging at the side of the bed for the time. It’s 5: 27 pm—I’ve only been asleep a little over an hour. I slide ungraciously off the side of the bed like a sloth and drag my feet across the room in a true zombified saunter, following my mom’s voice. The door is cracked slightly, and I stop when I recognize who she’s speaking to—Moira. I debate whether or not to stand and eavesdrop on their conversation but then I think better of it. I don’t like the idea of people listening in on my conversations, and I imagine that they are the same.

“Mom?” I say loudly, alerting them to the fact that I’m about to interrupt whatever’s going on. I open the door to find them both in tears.

My stomach plummets to the floor dragging my heart with it as all the different possible scenarios of why they could both be crying flood my thoughts. Ethan’s the only thing that makes sense.

“What’s wrong? Is it Ethan? Oh, no…it is, isn’t it?” my voice wobbles and both women rush to speak.

“No!” The pair blurts out in unison, and I almost want to fall in relief. I lean into the door for support and let out an audible sigh.

“What’s wrong, then? Why are you both crying?” They share a look before standing and ushering me back into the room. “We were talking about Frank,” Moira answers, her voice shaky and quiet.

“Oh,” is all I can manage to respond.

She lets out a pained sob as she jiggles her head and looks up towards the ceiling, attempting to control the flow of her tears by biting down on her lip and scrunching her eyes tight. I feel bad for her; she’s in pain, but I still can’t help the underlying stir of anger and resentment towards this woman. Every time I start to feel even a slight semblance of compassion for her, the nagging voice in my head whispers that she doesn’t deserve it. I’m fighting an internal battle.

“Your mom was just telling me that Ethan had confided in you,” she says between sniffing. “Blair, you will never know how grateful I am that he has you. That he’s had somebody to talk to. We’ve never had that. He…he…” Her sentence is cut short by a new wave of tears and my mom takes the few steps to reach her, ushering her into a chair while rubbing her back. I’m still standing. Motionless. I don’t know what to do.

“We barely talk; he feels like I’ve failed him. I see it in his eyes every time I look at him. I need to make it right, and I have no clue how. I love him so, so much. You need to believe that. I’ve only ever loved him; I never wanted this life for him.”

I can hear my own pulse echoing in my ears. “How’s Frank?” I ask out of morbid curiosity. Her head snaps up, and Mom turns to look at me.

“He’s not good, Blair,” Mom answers.

“He was thrown through the windshield when you crashed,” Moira begins. “The doctors said the impact shattered his C1 and C2 vertebrae. He’s suffering from a cervical spinal injury; he’s paralyzed from the neck down.”

My mom had told me he was paralyzed when she first found out, but we didn’t have any details. I thought maybe he wouldn’t walk again. I had no idea his paralysis was from the neck down. I’m still standing in the middle of the room staring at Moira like she’s speaking a foreign language. My first thought was to say how sorry I am to hear that. But I’m not sorry. I’m not anything; I don’t know how I should be feeling. I think maybe I’m in shock.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mom asks, looking concerned. “You’ve gone white as a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “When are you going to tell Ethan about this?” I ask Moira.

“I’ll tell him this evening, I guess. I just don’t know what to say. The doctors have mentioned not to divulge too much about the accident. They don’t want any excess stress; apparently it would be better for him to remember by himself. I’m worried that when I tell him about Frank, I’ll be setting him back.”

I take a seat on the edge of the bed and contemplate what she’s saying. “You need to tell him, though; it’s not right to leave him in the dark about this.” Keeping things from him is what got us all into this mess in the first place. I don’t say that out loud but she must know it’s the truth.

“I will. Blair, I need to ask you something,” she sighs. I immediately know I’m not going to like this particular ‘something’ from the look marring her face. I raise my eyebrows waiting for her to continue as she looks from me to my mom and then takes a deep breath before beginning.

“I know that Ethan told you about the conversation we’d had about me not being his natural mother.” My heart sinks in my chest in anticipation of what I think I know is coming next. “He doesn’t remember that conversation ever happening, and with his injuries and his dad, and everything else he has to deal with at the moment I just don’t think he’d handle being told again. I’m hoping you can promise me that you won't tell him.”

And there it is…that word, again.
I hate it.

“I can’t promise that, Moira. It’s not fair,” I say shaking my head. I can feel my mom’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face. “I just…I can’t lie to him.”

“It’s not lying,” she interjects.

“It’s not telling him the truth, either, though, is it? What happens if he starts to remember things, or asks me what he and Frank were arguing about in the car?”

“Blair’s right, Moira. You can’t ask that of her,” Mom voices as she switches places and sits beside me so that we’re both facing Moira now.

Her eyes are still brimming with tears, and she looks so worn down.

“I don’t want you to lie to him, Blair. I just want you to not say anything to him about me not being his mom. If he asks you straight out, then by all means tell him the truth. All I’m asking is that if you do think he’s remembering give me a heads up. I will tell him eventually, I just can't bear to put any added stress on him. In all honesty, I’m not sure if I’m even strong enough to tell him right now.”

We sit in a weighty silence for what feels like hours, but I’m sure is only seconds in reality. I can’t believe I’m in this situation again already. I want to tell her no, but then I know how broken he looked earlier today, and I think she may be right. I don’t think he could handle this right now, and especially not if she’s about to tell him that his dad’s a quadriplegic.

“Fine,” I mutter in a strangled whisper.

“What?” the pair of them reply at once, only Moira’s voice sounds hopeful, and my mom’s sounds almost stifled and disbelieving.

“I said, fine…I promise I won't say anything, unless he asks me flat out.”

Mom shakes her head and gives Moira a look that quite clearly tells her she’s not happy. Moira, on the other hand, looks like I just took the weight of the world from her shoulders.

We stay in my room for a little while longer, talking about Frank and what’s going to happen next before Moira says she needs to get back to Ethan. I did plan on visiting with him again this evening but now I don’t dare face him. Mom waits for Moira to leave before fixing me with the disappointed glower again.

“Don’t say it,” I put my hands up and look away from her as I climb into the bed. She sighs picks up a magazine and begins leafing through the pages. She’s accepting my decision, for now at least, and although I’m not even sure it’s the right one myself, I love her for it.

From: Jackson

Hey man, how you feeling today? Your mom says you’ll be home soon. The guys and I wanted to come visit you, but your mom’s asked us to wait till you get back. Brie’s filled me in on everything that’s been happening. She texts Blair every 30 seconds for an update! Call me when you get a chance, bro.

I read the message and wonder why Jackson and Brie are even talking before I realize that I’ve obviously forgotten more than just my girlfriend. I begin to scroll through the fifty or so texts I’ve received from the rest of the guys over the last couple of days. They’re all much the same, sending well wishes and asking about Blair and my dad. I don’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment; I’m not sure my brain could handle it. I decide to send a text out instead. Besides, I doubt I could answer anyone’s questions given that I still don’t remember shit about the crash.

To: Jackson, TJ and 1 more…

Hey guys,

Doing good, should be outta here soon. Don’t slack on band practice. I’ve screwed my wrist up pretty bad, I’m counting on you guys to pick up the slack and make me sound good at our next gig.

I hit send, and before I can even toss my phone back onto the bed, it starts going nuts with replies.

From: Drew

Good to hear you will be home soon. Not the same without you here, TJ’s already trying to take your place as front man ;)

From: Jackson