Page 54 of Conceal

Becky's standing in front of the barn when I pull into New Hope, the trailer kicking up dust behind me.

She greets me with a hug, like she always does, and I wonder if this is what it's like to have a mother. Someone warm who actually cares about me? Becky obviously pays me, though she reminds me it's not as much as she'd liked to pay me. But I don't mind. I'd rather she spend her money on the horses. But the way she treats me feels like the way a family should feel - warm and affectionate.

"This is your little stow away?" she asks cheerfully as I lower the ramp of the trailer.

"Yes, ma'am. She needs to hide for a little," I reply.

"I cleared out paddock H for her. It's the furthest from the road, and hardly anyone goes back there."

My heart stuttered. Here I was, asking the closest thing I ever had to a mother to hide something from a dangerous mafia family. And instead of asking me why I needed to hide a horse, she simply moved her farm around to make it happen.

I release Juliet into paddock H, closing the gate behind me and double checking the chain, before turning and wrapping my arms around the much smaller woman.

"Thank you," I say, my throat clogged with emotion.

Her tiny hand pats my back in return.

"Anytime, Mik. Anytime."

Chapter thirty-five

Tatiana

The silence in the town car is the heaviest thing I think I’ve ever felt. I’m only vaguely aware of it. The depression that’s swallowed me whole these past few weeks blankets me like a thick fog. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even find it in me to care about anything anymore.

I’m not even in my own body. I’m back in the cabin, replaying every moment, every word, every touch. I know the boys are worried, and I know I should feel guilty for making them worry, but I’m numb. I can’t live in a world where we can’t be together. I know I’m disassociating, and that it’s probably not healthy, but therapy isn’t exactly an option. I’d have to care enough to even ask. And I don’t.

My mother is prattling on about something about the wedding, but it’s just background noise.

The car pulls up to a curb outside of a street lined with shops. Roman opens my door for me, offering me a hand to step out, but I avoid it. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Avoiding them. Avoiding life. Avoiding the inevitable.

I’m being married off to the enemy. Gifted to the man who tried to murder me. If I’d doubted how truly little my family valued me, I don’t anymore. There’s a real possibility this man kills me before the wedding is over.

And I just don’t care.

I’m not suicidal. I don’t think. But I wouldn’t be upset if he does kill me. What else do I have to live for? Dramatic? Maybe. Do I care? No.

Roman stiffens as I pass him, but he can’t do or say anything.

He flanks us as I follow my mother into the shop. It’s a bakery.

A beautiful, curvy woman spots us and smiles wide.

“You must be the bride-to-be,” she says, stepping forward and offering a hand. I don’t shake it. Her smile falters as she picks up on the vibe. Again, I should feel bad for bringing the mood down, but I don’t. I don’t feel much of anything anymore.

She pivots. “Well, I’m excited for our tasting today. Do you already have in mind a flavor or sets of flavors you prefer?”

I don’t answer.

“She’s feeling a bit under the weather today,” my mother interrupts. I don’t understand why we’re even pretending that I’m a normal bride and that this is a normal wedding.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Did you want to reschedule?”

“We won’t have the time. The wedding’s been rushed.”

The woman nods, even though she doesn’t look convinced. “Right. Well, have a seat, and I’ll bring out the samples I’ve prepared for you,” she says, motioning toward a cute table and chairs.

When she slips through a door in the back, my mother leans forward.