“I’m going to tel the Spencers the truth,” Hannah said. “I’l take that DNA test and prove that you lied to them. They’l come after you with their expensive lawyers.”
Laura’s expression didn’t change. “If they come after me, they’l come after your precious father too. He’s the one who betrayed their trust. Don’t you think he’s suffered enough?”
Hannah ground her teeth and kept packing.
“Where wil you go?” Laura asked.
“None of your business.”
Laura smiled. “I wouldn’t be quite so confident, if I were you. You forget that I control the money. You walk out of that door and I cut you off.”
Hannah closed the suitcase. There was an empty backpack at the bottom of her closet. She took her col ege folders from her desk, put them in the backpack, and fil ed up the rest of the space with pajamas and underwear. That would have to do. She put the backpack on her back.
“I did terrible things, Mom, but I can’t blame you for that. That’s on me. I’m not a child. I have to take responsibility for my own decisions, for my mistakes. I’m not going to be like you, see?
Blaming everyone else, hating everyone else. But I’m done. I’m done with you.” As she spoke Hannah felt the last connection between them, a tight cord of pain, snap. She took a breath, and the air felt cleaner.
“Dandridge has nothing,” Laura said, her voice shril . “You get that? His family’s broke and he’s a bum. You think I set the sheriff on him for no reason? He tried to get more money out of me. We made a deal and he went back on it. He would have taken food from his own daughter’s mouth. I did it for you, Hannah. I did it al for you.”
Hannah settled the backpack on her back. She tightened the straps and, pul ing her suitcase behind her, pushed past her mother and out into the hal . She went to the door and then outside to her car. Sean was there, waiting. Camila too. They had proved to be far better, more forgiving friends than she deserved. Sean helped her to lift her bags into the trunk.
“Okay?” he asked quietly.
“Okay.”
Laura stood at the door of the house. Hannah half-expected her to scream something as they left, but she stayed silent, watching with hooded eyes. Hannah felt a wrench of emotion, a pul of regret.
Maybe some part of her stil wanted the fight. If they were fighting, then it wasn’t over. Sean was waiting for her to get into the car.
Hannah hesitated, then turned and walked back to the house.
Laura’s face brightened in anticipation. Hannah stared at her, trying, by sheer force of wil , to look past the shiny exterior and see, clearly and final y, what her mother was.
“You can have the money,” Hannah said. “But you can’t have me.”
Laura’s face fel . Hannah turned and walked back to the car. She climbed in and Sean started the engine. They drove. Hannah cried quietly for a while. They didn’t talk. Every now and then Sean would take his hand from the steering wheel and squeeze hers. Eventual y Hannah stopped crying. She looked out of the window and watched the countryside go by. She wiped away the last of her tears. She was smiling.
Acknowledgements
I owe enormous thanks to many people who helped me to write the book I wanted to write.
First, to Shane Salerno, my agent, who pushes me exactly how I needed to be pushed, makes space for me when I need to take a breath, and advocates for me in a way I haven’t been able to advocate for myself. Shane, I hope you know how grateful I am.
Thank you.
To my editors, Anna Valdinger, Emily Krump, Phoebe Morgan, and Julia El iott, thank you for your support and encouragement, your confidence, and your always excel ent taste and guidance.
Thank you so much to booksel ers al over the world, who have worked so hard in such difficult circumstances over the past two years. Thank you for giving so much to preserve our industry.
Thank you to everyone on the sales and marketing teams at the publishing houses I’ve been lucky enough to work with, who somehow make a space in a loud and busy world for my books.
Thank you in particular to Alice Wood, marketing genius and travel buddy extraordinaire. Thank you to Sara Foster, who read an early draft and, as always, provided a friendly ear.
Thank you to the readers, in particular those who read one and come back for more and then tel me about it. You make my dreams come true.
Last, but never least, thank you to my family: to Kenny, Freya, and Oisin. Thank you for the title suggestions, the log lines, the jokes, and the love. I’l never know how I got this lucky.
About the Author
DERVLA MCTIERNAN is the international y bestsel ing author of The Rúin, The Scholar, and The Good Turn. After twelve years working as a lawyer, she moved from Ireland to Australia and turned her hand to writing. Dervla is a member of the Sisters in Crime and Crime Writers Association, and lives in Perth, Australia, with her husband and two children.