Chapter 172 Wore It Raw?
Wentworth turned to look at Juliana.
His vision had sharpened considerably, and with it came a penetrating gaze that made Juliana's heart skip uncomfortably. But she'd always had excellent composure, iron-clad self-control. Even feeling exposed, her expression remained smooth.
She smiled. "You're like a brother to me. Taking care of you was the right thing to do."
Zoey cut in. "But you're not Matilda. This should have been her responsibility."
Juliana turned that same calm smile toward Zoey. "I call Amelia 'Mom.' When she asks me to do something, I do it."
Amelia backed her up immediately. "Exactly. I asked Juliana to help care for Wentworth."
Zoey tried a different approach, her tone sweetening. "Mom, why didn't you tell me? I could've come to help too."
Amelia had her excuse ready. "When Brian first contacted me, he said Wentworth's injury was classified information. We couldn't let it leak. That's why I didn't tell you."
"Don't blame me for only bringing Juliana. She may not be my biological daughter, but she's the most considerate, the most obedient. Can any of you say you listen to me the way she does?"
The implication was clear—her children were disobedient, so she favored Juliana instead.
No one argued back. What was the point? They'd never win against her, and she was the elder anyway.
Matilda returned carrying a bowl of porridge. She lowered the tray table in front of Wentworth's wheelchair and smiled at him. "Wentworth, have some porridge."
Wentworth's answering smile was gentle. He picked up the spoon and started eating.
The tender domestic scene stabbed at Juliana's heart. She turned to Amelia. "Mom, I want to go back."
"Sure, I'll take you to the hotel."
"Not the hotel. Home. I haven't seen my parents in a while."
"But I already told them you were here. They said they'd come visit in the next day or two. They want to see you and check on Wentworth."
Juliana hesitated. "All right. I'll wait for them at the hotel then."
---
After Amelia and Juliana left, Zoey decided to retreat to her room as well. But when she caught sight of the porridge in front of Wentworth—the faint sheen of oil on its surface—her stomach lurched. She barely suppressed a gag.
The nausea hit every time she smelled cooking oil.
Matilda understood exactly why. "Zoey, why don't you and Charles go out for a bit? Maybe take a walk?"
Zoey jumped at the suggestion, linking her arm through Charles's. "Charles, want to sit by the ocean?"
But Charles was in full big-brother mode, completely oblivious. "I'd rather stay with Wentworth a while longer. It was so hard to find him."
Matilda laughed. "I'm here. I'm his wife and his caregiver. You think I can't handle it? Go with Zoey. She might have something exciting to tell you."
Charles glanced at Zoey, his expression asking: Really?
Zoey smiled. "I'll tell you when we get to the garden."
They made their way to the courtyard, where Zoey sank onto a stone bench. Charles sat beside her, but his mind was clearly still on his brother.
"Matty said you had something to tell me. What is it?"
Wrong opening. Wrong atmosphere entirely. Zoey needed to set the mood better.
"These gardens are gorgeous," she tried, gesturing at the flower beds. "How did they get all these different colored tulips to bloom together like this?"
Charles wasn't interested in flowers. He'd been nursing a frustration with Zoey that finally broke through.
"Are you disgusted by Wentworth now that he's injured?"
Zoey's eyes went wide. "What? How could you even think that? He's your brother, which makes him my brother too."
A brother nearly a decade older than her, but still.
"Then why did you look like you were going to throw up in front of him just now? And lately you're always..." He stopped himself. "Never mind."
"Always hiding in my room, right?" Zoey finished for him.
Especially when Matilda was cooking.
Charles's disappointment showed clearly. "I thought you'd treat Wentworth like family. But it seems like you only care about Matilda."
Zoey's eyes stung with hurt. She was pregnant. Morning sickness meant she couldn't handle the smell of cooking oil, couldn't do anything but lie in bed. But Charles didn't understand.
And she wasn't about to explain it to him now.
She stood abruptly. "I'm going to bed. You can sit here by yourself."
Charles fell silent. How had this become his fault?
Though, thinking about it... it kind of was his fault. Wentworth was his blood brother, not Zoey's. She had no obligation to fuss over him. That comment about treating Wentworth like family had been pure emotional manipulation.
But Zoey seemed genuinely angry.
Fine. He'd make it up to her.
The rehabilitation center might be short on amenities, but it had flowers in abundance. When no one was looking, he plucked a bouquet of tulips from one of the beds.
He wasn't actually stealing them—there just weren't any flower shops nearby. Or convenience stores. He'd donate money to the center later to make up for it.
On his way back with the pilfered bouquet, he passed the front balcony and spotted Wentworth sitting alone, quietly eating his porridge.
Charles paused. "Where's Matty? Wasn't she just with you?"
Wentworth gave a helpless smile.
"Did you two have a fight?"
"Not a fight. She's upset. Because of what Mom said—about me holding Juliana's hand so much it turned red. She's hurt." Wentworth looked at his brother hopefully. "How do I fix this?"
Charles sighed. "I can barely save myself right now. You're on your own, little brother."
---
Charles returned to find Zoey propped up in bed with her tablet, watching some drama. She was laughing hard enough to shake the mattress, showing zero signs of their earlier argument.
When she noticed him in the doorway, she didn't even glance his way.
Knowing he was in the wrong, Charles approached and held out the stolen tulips.
"For you."
Zoey blinked, finally pulling her attention from the screen.
"Did you steal these?" she asked.
"...Don't make it sound so criminal."
"What if security saw you? They have cameras here."
"Are you going to accept them or not?"
Zoey couldn't help smiling. "Well, since you went through all that effort, I guess I'll take them."
Charles ventured another question. "What were you going to tell me in the garden?"
The mood still wasn't right. She'd just forgiven him—she couldn't drop that bombshell now.
"Oh, nothing major. Just that one of my singing videos hit over three million likes."
Charles's expression flickered, something dimming in his eyes.
Singing.
Zoey had been watching him carefully. The moment she mentioned singing, he went still.
He still hasn't let her go, has he?
He hadn't contacted his ex-girlfriend since their honeymoon ended, but the mention of singing still brought her to mind.
Zoey made a decision then. She couldn't keep avoiding the topic of singing just because of his past. She loved singing too. That was part of who she was.