Perfectly Damaged
Page 77Dinner isn’t as bad as Jersey Girl had expected. Her mother is quiet for the most part. I’ve even caught her peeking over at Jenna from time to time. But mostly her father, Gregory—he asked me to call him that—keeps the conversation alive. We talk about the contracting business, his work, and even politics, which I don’t care for, but he makes it an interesting topic.
Gregory couldn’t get reservations for the restaurant he wanted, so he hired a private chef to come to the house and make us dinner instead.
I lean back in the chair, patting my stomach as the chef comes out with dessert. “I can’t. I’m going to burst at the seams if I have anything else,” I say.
Laura smiles. “I’m sure you can find some room for chocolate cake.”
I don’t want to seem rude, so I just nod. “I’m sure I can find room.”
“You don’t have to, Logan,” Jersey Girl says. Her hand reaches over and clasps my shoulder. “We can take some for later.”
Gregory nods. “Yes. Don’t worry about it. Dessert is my wife’s favorite part of dinner, so she always makes room for it.”
“It was Brooke’s as well,” Laura mumbles.
That was random and awkward. I don’t know what to say. I look between Jenna and her father. Gregory’s jaw tightens as he focuses straight ahead, keeping his eyes away from Laura. Jersey Girl bows her head, looking at her lap.
“Very well,” Laura spits out. “I guess I’ll enjoy dessert on my own.” She slides a plate closer to her, lifts her shoulders graciously, and then stabs her fork into the cake, bringing a crumb-sized bite to her lips. “Delicious.”
Another awkward moment goes by before Jersey Girl announces, “I’m thinking of going back to school.”
I smile. I know how hard it was for her to say that. We talked about it at the lake house and on the drive back from there, and she was nervous to even mention the idea of going back to her parents.
I’m fuckin’ proud of her right now.
“You can’t,” Laura states.
“Why?” Jenna asks, her brows creasing.
Her mother raises a brow. “Because of your…” She glances over at me, then looks back to Jersey Girl. “Your condition.”
Jersey Girl straightens her shoulders. A tiny smile pulls at her lips. “Logan knows.”
Both Gregory and Laura shift their eyes my way. Her father’s amused, maybe even impressed, but her mother… Well, her expression looks like a mix of disgust and shock. “Of your mental illness?” Laura hisses the words mental illness.
I nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’m aware of Jersey Girl’s disorder, and it doesn’t change how I feel about her.”
“Jersey Girl?” her mother scoffs.
Gregory shifts in his seat, grinning at me. He nods in approval. “I think that deserves a drink. What do you say, son?” He stands. “Are you a whiskey man?”
“Sure.” I move to stand, but he gestures for me to sit back down.
“I’ll bring it to the table.” He turns and walks in the direction of his office by the front entrance.
The table falls silent in his wake. Laura is staring between Jersey Girl and me, her expression seriously annoyed, maybe even angry. “You told him everything?” She locks eyes with Jenna.
Jenna nods.
Jenna meets her mother’s glare but doesn’t answer.
I chime in, “Well, I know Brooke’s life was taken from her.”
“Logan,” Jenna begins with a whisper.
Laura’s eyes widen, a malicious smirk spreading across her face. “Ah, he doesn’t know,” she says.
“That’s enough, Mother,” Jersey Girl warns.
I’m very confused. “Doesn’t know what?” I ask.
Laura tilts her head, gazing at me. Then she looks Jenna straight in the eye. She leans into the table, her stare hardening as she hisses, “It was all Jenna’s fault.”
What?
“No.” Jenna shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t.” She continues moving her head side-to-side. Then she begins to rock in her chair.
“Yes, it was. You were there.” Laura continues as she stands from her chair and taunts Jenna, “You watched them rape her and repeatedly beat her.”
“Stop it,” I say. This is fuckin’ ridiculous. I pull away from the table and kneel beside Jersey Girl. “Look what you’re doing to her.” My tone sizzles. I grab both of Jersey Girl’s hands. They’re shaking; her entire body is fucking trembling.
“No,” her mother continues, “I will not stop. She walks around as if she doesn’t remember. Doctors said she blocked that memory out, but I know the truth. She remembers clearly. Don’t you, Jenna?”
“You remember, don’t you?” Laura accuses. “You’re just as much a murderer as they were.”
Jersey Girl’s fingers clench at my chest, digging through my shirt as she tightens her grip. “Don’t listen to her,” I say. Jersey Girl shakes her head. “Don’t listen to her,” I repeat.
I pull her into my chest and guide her, storming out of the dining room and down the hall, past Gregory. His eyes widen as we pass, two whiskey-filled glasses in his hands. “What happened?” he asks.
“Ask your wife. She’s a bitch,” I bark out.
“Excuse me!” Laura shouts from behind. I stop, turn around, and glare at her.
“You heard me. You’re despicable. You’re scum. You’re an evil bitch. I can’t believe you have the audacity to call yourself a mother.”
“What did you do, Laura?” Gregory demands.
Laura’s eyes widen. “You’re going to allow him to speak to me that way?”
“What did you do?” he booms.
Instead of sticking around for their back and forth, I turn with Jenna in my hold and guide us up the stairs and into her room.
“Jersey Girl, you’re coming home with me, okay?”