Perfectly Damaged

“Okay.”

Di

Gregory couldn’t get reservations for the restaurant he wanted, so he hired a private chef to come to the house and make us di

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 di

“It was Brooke’s as well,” Laura mumbles.

That was random and awkward. I don’t know what to say. I look between Je

“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 a

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.

“That’s great, baby. Really great,” her father encourages.

“You can’t,” Laura states.

“Why?” Je

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, gri

“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 a

Je

“Even about Brooke?”

Je

I chime in, “Well, I know Brooke’s life was taken from her.”

“Logan,” Je

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 Je

What?

“No.” Je

“Yes, it was. You were there.” Laura continues as she stands from her chair and taunts Je

“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, Je

“I said stop it, dammit!” I stand and bring Je

“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 Je

“Jersey Girl, you’re coming home with me, okay?”

She steps away and flattens her back against the wall. Her lashes and cheeks are soaked in tears, her face filled with pain. She brings a hand to her stomach as if she’s going to be sick.

I quickly turn, searching for a suitcase or bag. Anything. I finally find her luggage by the closet and pack whatever I can find—clothes, shoes, her toothbrush. I rummage through her room, all while peeking over every few seconds to look at her. She’s still in the same position, zoned out in space.

I zip up her case. Then I march over to her, watching her as I approach. With every step, I grow angrier. I can’t believe her mother would do this. I tug at her chin and look her in the eyes, but she’s not staring back. She’s lost somewhere. “Jersey Girl,” I say. “I’m going to take care of you.” I rub my thumb over her jawline. “I’m going to make sure you never have to see her again. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Okay?”

She doesn’t say anything.

Fuck.

I pull her into me, guiding her back down the stairs and out of the house while her parents argue in the background.

Je

Brooke spins around in the middle of her dorm room. The edge of her navy blue dress twists and hugs her curves as she whirls in place. Then she stops and looks at me. “Will you cheer up, buttercup!” she says, her smile brightening as she fists both hands on her hips. I force a smile, shifting uncomfortably on top of her roommate’s bed, which is mine this weekend since her roommate is out of town “We’re going to have a blast tonight! Who knows,” she starts, lifting one shoulder into a slight shrug. “You might meet a boy.”

“Oh my God,” I cry out as I dig my fingers into the passenger seat. Logan reaches over.

“What’s wrong?” he urges.

My head slams back against the headrest over and over again as every detail of that night whirls in my head. I remember. “I was there,” I breathe out.