My Almost Ex (The Greene Family #2) - Piper Rayne Page 0,4

a room for the night and we’re inside, I sit on the bed. “Mom.”

She’s busy taking off her coat and getting out of her shoes, checking her phone as if I didn’t say her name. I’m just realizing that she never told me about Adam or even the fact that I was married. How could she keep that from me?

“Mom,” I say again.

“What, sweetie? I never saw any journals.” She’s talking to her phone.

“Will you please look at me?”

She glances up.

“Can we talk about what a huge thing this is? I just remembered being at Adam’s thirteenth birthday party. I mean, until twenty minutes ago, I didn’t even know he existed.”

She puts her phone down and sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hands. “This is what I was afraid of. I’m not going to lie, I’d hoped maybe you wouldn’t remember being married. When you came to us in Idaho, you were so distraught. You didn’t get out of bed for an entire month.”

“Why did we break up?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. You wouldn’t say.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t I have told you?” My forehead creases.

She sighs, her telltale sign she’s holding back information and would rather not tell me. “I think you were afraid I would say I told you so.”

“Why would you have done that?”

“Because we forbade your marriage.” She pats my hand. “I never saw you get married, Luce. Your father and I didn’t agree with it and there was a fight and…”

I slide my hands out from hers and stand, looking out the window that has views of the bay. “Why didn’t you support us?”

She sighs again. It’s grating on my nerves. “It’s a long story.”

“Good thing we have nowhere to be then.”

She stands and grabs her overnight bag, ready to go to the bathroom.

“Mom,” I plead, “you can’t keep me in the dark. Dr. Lipstein said when I have questions, you should answer them and maybe they’ll help me remember.”

At times in the past three months, I’ve felt my mom keeping information from me. My brother, Zane, would say something that didn’t quite make sense to me and then my parents would shift conversation in another direction.

“Some things are meant to stay in the past. You came back to us. Can’t we just let that be?”

I raise my hands in frustration. What did she expect to happen when we returned here? Did she hope I would remember nothing and this entire part of my life would be erased forever? I think I’m starting to understand why she was so hesitant for me to return.

“Either you tell me or I hear it from Adam, because I’m not leaving Sunrise Bay without an answer.” I cross my arms.

“Okay, okay. Just let me get ready for bed and process everything, then we’ll hash out what happened.” She opens the door and disappears down the hall.

I wait for the bathroom door to shut down the hall, then I grab my coat and slide out of the room. If she has to think about it, she won’t tell me the full truth. And I’m starting to figure out that it’s up to me to remember for myself.

Going downstairs, I tiptoe past the front desk and out the door, but I freeze in place when I see Mandi’s finger poking Adam in the chest.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Both of them look over. Adam steps forward only for Mandi to wrap her hand around his wrist and tug him back.

Looks like it’s not only my family who wants to keep us apart.

Mandi’s hand is so tight around my wrist, she’s going to pop open a vein with her nails.

Lucy stops outside the doors to the inn.

My stepsister Mandi owns this place and I’m assuming she was appointed the designated Greene to watch out for me showing up here because as soon as my truck pulled into the parking lot, she was out the door, telling me to go home.

How can I go home? I drove Alicia home and she tried to lure me into her house by palming my dick through my pants. Sadly, nothing happened, not even a chub—the consequences of having your estranged wife show back up in town is limp dick apparently. So I walked her to the door and said good night.

I told myself to drive home. I really did. To just go to bed. But I couldn’t convince myself I’d get any sleep. Still, waiting until tomorrow, like my dad said, is good advice.