Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177

Chapter 177

As I stand here, trapped between my mother’s vice-like grip and the dark water below, a long-buried fear claws its way up through me. Every inch of my body wants to twist away, run from this hellish, familiar grip. But it’s like being eight again, clinging to the hope that it’s different this time, that she’ll look at me with something other than contempt.

“Let me go,” I say. But her nails dig deeper into my skin.

“Not until you make that promise.”

My blood turns to ice. It’s crazy because, at the same time, I want to laugh at how absurd this is. My own mother is standing here, threatening me on a bridge like something out of a thriller. But looking into her eyes, I know she’s dead serious. Several memories can attest to that. Those cold nights when she’d shove me outside, locking the door from the inside because I’d dared to spill milk on the kitchen floor or did some other silly thing she deemed punishable. I’d stay there for hours, curled up on the floor, listening to her pace back and forth, shouting that I’d learn discipline even if it killed me.

And somehow, I survived. The trick is to always make her think she won.

“Mom,” I try again, “please, you’re hurting me. Just let me go…”

“Oh, grow up, Julie,” she spits. “All these years, you’ve whined, cried, done nothing but bring shame on this family. And now, finally, when you have a husband-one that matters, one that actually makes you worth something-you can’t even do that right.” She pulls me so close I can smell the faintest hint of her perfume. “You’re pathetic. And the craziest thing is, somehow, you’ve managed to charm Ryan into thinking he loves you. The man is obsessed with you. I don’t know what he sees. I have five children and a good number of grandchildren, and yet you don’t have any. But he’s still here, fighting to keep you. Calling me like a maniac to talk sense into you. I don’t know one man who could do that. For god’s sake, what the man wants is a child. Let him have it. Let him fuck the entire world. At the end of the day, he’s still yours. Stop pissing him

off.”

The words are like a slap. In that moment, I realize the name of the feeling I’ve had for my mother all these years. I wasn’t sure of it before, but I am now. It’s hatred. I hate her. She isn’t going to break me, not anymore.

“Do it.” I say, staring her down. “Push me off. You’d be doing me a fucking favor because then I’d never have to see your face again.”

Her eyes widen, and I feel her grip loosen.

–

I see her for what she is a sad, cruel woman with nothing left to hold over me. I’ve spent years seeing her as a monster, but right now, she looks so small.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask. “Push me off.”

She gapes at me, mouth open as if to shout, but the words seem to catch in her throat. She yanks me back toward the railing, face twisted in fury. “You ungrateful little-”

“Hey!” a voice calls from nearby.

We both turn around, and I see three figures jogging toward us, alarmed.

“What are you doing?” one of them shouts.

My mother’s grip finally breaks, and I stumble back. My heart hammers, but relief surges through me as the strangers close

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