Walking back to his desk with confident steps, I imagine his answer as if I already know it. He turns slightly from facing the window, still curled up on the floor behind his desk, looking at me as if he doesn’t trust me. He shouldn’t. Not with how I’m feeling at this moment.
I stop on the opposite side of the desk, my mind racing as I go back years and years. Back to only a boy who lost his mother. Scared, confused … and angry.
“Mom didn’t die from an overdose.” The statement comes out accusatory and it’s meant to. He wipes the blood from his mouth with the bright white sleeve of his dress shirt. He doesn’t look me in the eye, doesn’t acknowledge what I said in the least.
I take one step toward him, a large step that gets his attention. His gaze whips up to me. “Did you have her killed too?”
“How dare you!” His nostrils flare as he pins me with his gaze. “How dare you, you fucking …” he trails off and doesn’t finish. His shoulders are hunched forward as he grips his desk chair for balance to stand.
I’m struck by the powerful way he’s affected. I’ve wondered for so long, months now. If he had Avery killed, maybe he did the same with my mother.
I flex my hand and swallow thickly, feeling the need to explain. My question was prompted by a gut feeling more than anything else. I don’t remember much from around the time she died, but I remember how I felt. How the air between them was tense. How scared my mother was that he would find out her dirty little secret. “I know she was cheating—”
“Get out!” My father shouts at me, not holding anything back as he throws his chair to the side, putting all of his weight into it. It crashes against the bookshelf, several of the books tumbling to the floor as he slams his fists against his desk.
I turn my back on him, my fist pulsing in agony from the punch and my chest hurting with a pain I can’t explain.
He pounds his fists again and again on the maple desk as I force myself to walk away from him.
Leaving my father alone in his office and promising myself never to see him again, never to speak to him, never to trust him. And never to be like him.
Never again.
Julia
I stare down at the neat piles of papers to my right in the dining room. My back is killing me and my shoulders are screaming in pain. It’s so wrong that now that these contracts and files are sorted out, my first thought is to call Mason, to see if he’s free and tell him that I miss him.
God, do I miss him.
He could ease my physical pains, but also that sick lonely feeling I have after going through three years of finances.
Three years of hard evidence of Jace cheating. Three long years compiled in black ink on white pages.
I glance at the email still open on my laptop. Mr. Walker will have more for me tomorrow. It makes my stomach lurch because I know I’ll see more credit card statements for hotel charges during the day when he was supposed to be working, along with charges for jewelry and everything else he bought the women he kept on the side. I don’t need to see it. That’s the messed-up part of it all.
Selling the apartment and being done with it is the last of all the problems and loose ends Jace left.
I’ll be fine financially; everything is going to be okay on that front. But I want to know how long it went on. I want to know at what point in my life I wasn’t good enough for him anymore.
The wine in the glass is almost gone and it’s late, but I pour myself another. We all have our vices and it turns out mine are cabernet and Mason Thatcher. My lips curl into a pathetic weak smile and then I take a sip of the sweet wine.
I stare at the open newspaper on the table. The one with a photograph of Mason and someone else. Someone new. It’s not hard to admit that it hurts to see it, to think that he’s moved on already. It hasn’t even been two weeks since I saw him last. It has their picture but the accompanying article is about me being used by the playboy bachelor and left brokenhearted. They know nothing and I couldn’t care less about what they think happened. What matters is that I am heartbroken.
Mason. I’ve stared at that photo for far too long praying it isn’t true. Mostly because I’m selfish. I’m not ready to commit to him, or to anyone, but I want him all the same.
Sue has assured me it’s all made up and the woman in the photo is someone he dated long ago.
I take another gulp of wine and only look up from the same paragraph I’ve read five times when I hear my phone go off.
It’s a text from Kat wanting my manuscript. Oh God.
It’s a good thing I have an apartment up for sale, I suppose. Maybe I should thank my cheating deceased husband for that.
It takes a small sip before I have the courage to text her back, asking for an extension and then open my laptop to write. To let the words flow. If anything, I expect it to be about anger, grief, betrayal. But all that comes are thoughts of Mason’s touch. How powerful his physical presence can be. How he can soothe my every pain. How he wants to do just that, and about how much I want it even more.
I let my head fall to the side when I remember him kissing me as he played my body right at this very spot that I’m sitting. My fingers never stop tapping on the keys as I relive the moment. I open my eyes and stare at the grain woven into the wooden table where I bent over for him. I confessed something so real, so painful and he made me feel alive and as though nothing else mattered.
I suck in a deep breath, hating that I left him the way that I did. I’m so damn broken. I don’t understand why he wants me when it’s obvious that I’m a wreck.
Biting down on my lip, I stare at the phone and think of texting him.
I miss you. I type in the words and then delete them.
I’m sorry. I stare at the two words that are so simple, yet mean so much.
I think I love you. That’s what I should send him. Scare him away for good.
I delete the text as Kat messages me back. She’s usually hard on me. Guilting me if I’m miss a deadline and reminding me about everyone else’s schedules involved. It lights a fire under my bottom.
But all she’s written this time is that it’s okay and to take care of myself.
“Take care of myself,” I whisper beneath my breath and let my fingers trail down the stem of the wineglass.
I wish Mason were here, but that’s just an easy out.
This is supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be hard.
I want to crawl back to him and beg for forgiveness. Beg him to take away the pain again. It’s selfish and I won’t do that to him, but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to.
Mason
“I just got an email.” I hear Liam’s irritation as the door opens. His light gray suit is sharp and crisp, but he looks like shit himself. His dirty blond hair is a mess on top of his head and the dark circles under his eyes prove he hasn’t gotten much sleep.
“About what?” I ask. I don’t let on that I already know what the email was about as I rest my elbows on the desk. Waiting for him to speak, I make a steeple with my pointer fingers. I know what this is about. My father’s pulled the funds.
We’re fucked. And I don’t have a way out of this.
“What happened, Mason?” His question is drenched with desperation.
I swallow hard, hating that I owe Liam anything. I know I do. At the very least I owe him an explanation, but what can I tell him? My jaw clenches and I look down at my desk as I pick at my hands where a small cut mars my knuckles. I can’t turn in my father. I don’t have any hard evidence of his misdeeds but more than that, I can’t bring myself to do it to my own father. That last part causes me more shame than I’m willing to admit.
I clear my throat and lean forward to face Liam.
“We have to back down or find new investors.”
“Back down?” His wide eyes stare at me as though I’m the insane one here. Maybe I am. “We can’t fucking back down. We’ve sunk millions into this!” I can practically see his heart racing out of his chest.
“I’m sorry, but—”
“What the fuck happened?” he shouts as he stands up, throwing the papers on the desk behind him. My blood heats as I glare at Liam.
“Sit down.” The words come out harsh and as a demand. It gets his attention, like a child who’s been scolded. I’ll own up to failing him but I have my limits, and when it comes to business, I demand respect. He’s still, almost frozen for a long moment and then he places both his hands flat on the desk and leans over, getting closer to my face. He’s still a foot away, but it’s too fucking close for my liking.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Thatcher,” he says low in his throat. “This is going to ruin us. Ruin me,” he hisses.
“We’ll recover.” I don’t have the confidence my voice reflects. But I’ll do whatever I have to in order to make this work. I have no intention of going anywhere. If I have to start from the bottom again and claw my way back up to the top, so be it.
“You need to get over whatever it is that’s going on between you and your father. Whatever the fuck it is, just let it go.”
He glares at me long and hard. Waiting for me to comply, but it’s not going to happen. I may not be sending my father away to prison for life, but I’m through with him for good. I’m sure as fuck not going to take his money.
“I have a few meetings tomorrow with Marcus Jennings and Austin Hook.” I lean back in my seat, daring him to come closer. His body tenses as he turns his head in disbelief, still leaning over my desk.
He shakes his head, looking bewildered. “How could you do this to me?” He barely gets out the words. He pushes off the desk, shaking his head again and walking a few feet away before looking back at me.
I can see each emotion as they flow through him and finally he settles on anger. “Is it because of Anderson?” he asks and my heart stops in my chest.
I stand up straight out of instinct. Out of the need to figure out how much he knows.
“What the fuck does he have to do with this?” My voice is deathly low as my eyes narrow; my muscles are coiled and ready for a fight. What does he know?
He gives me a confused look in return. “‘He?’” Liam tilts his head and it’s then that I realize he was talking about Jules and using her married name. My heart sinks lower and a cold sweat breaks out over my body. Fuck!
“I’m talking about the bitch you’ve been fucking.” My body turns to stone, stuck in place by an anger I can’t control. Everything goes red as he keeps talking, oblivious to my reaction. “Everything’s changed since she’s come around.”
I crack my neck to the side, deciding to ignore it. To give him one chance. That’s all he’ll get. “It has nothing to do with her.”
“Oh yeah? She didn’t convince you not to make amends with your father? Or fuck him over or fuck me over?” With each question, his voice gets louder and louder.
“She doesn’t know shit about my father and she has no place here or in any of this.”
He flashes me a cocky grin. “Really gets you worked up, doesn’t it?” He rounds the desk as he talks. “Is it because she dumped your ass on Madison Avenue?” The question comes with a laugh and he closes the space between us. I already know this is going to end badly; I’m only waiting for the right moment to strike at this point. “What’d you do that had her running out of that car, Mason? You fuck her over too? Just like you fucked—”
I can’t stop what’s started. He shouldn’t have brought up Jules. I can’t control myself when it comes to her.
My fist comes out of nowhere, hitting him square on the jaw and sending him flying backward. Twice in one week I’ve hit a man. And for the second time, I don’t give a shit.
My knuckle flares where the cut from the last punch is still healing and my shoulder screams with pain from the impact. My vision clouds, anger making it redder by the second. Everything rages inside. The anger of her leaving me, the disappointment of my father, the regret of what I’ve done all mix into a deadly concoction. I take two steps forward with my hands up, ready to beat the piss out of him, ready for the fight he obviously wants, but he’s limp on the floor, blood leaking from his nose.
Crouching down, I grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling harder than I should but I can’t stop myself, panic warring against everything else. He’s motionless and unresponsive. I fist his jacket in my hands, shaking him. “Liam!” Dread courses through me. What the hell did I do? I slap him lightly across the face, but he doesn’t respond.
I hold a hand over his nose just to make sure he’s breathing. The warm air confirms that he is. Thank fuck. My body aches as I stand, running my hands through my hair and then down my face as I pace the floor.
I look up to the clock and I only have five, maybe ten minutes before everyone arrives at the office. I lean my forearm against the wall of windows, feeling defeated and like a fucking idiot. This isn’t who I am now. This isn’t the man I wanted to be. I lean all of my weight into the glass. I’m spiraling, all from the mention of her name.
The realization that I just knocked out Liam weighs heavily on my shoulders. The one man I could occasionally refer to as a friend.
I stare at my own reflection as I realize how badly I’ve fucked up.
It doesn’t take long before I decide I need to call an ambulance and I’m very much aware they’ll call the police. I clench my jaw and swallow my pride. It’ll be a fucking spectacle.
He shouldn’t have talked about Jules, though.
He had to know this was going to happen.
Julia
Why do you haunt me so?
You take control of my thoughts,
You consume my sleep.
How do you wound me still?
You need to leave me alone,
I’m not yours to keep.
“It can’t be true.” I only parted my lips, but the words tumbled out without thinking. Sitting around the same small table in the coffee shop feels surreal as I read the article. We were just here not even a month ago and it’s unreal how everything has changed.
“You broke him,” Maddie says somewhat jokingly to try to lighten the mood.
His company, his friendships, his father. I know the tabloids make up a good portion of their content, but the mug shot is something that can’t be denied.
“It’s all dropped and he’ll be fine,” Sue says airily as if it’s no big deal.
The newspaper falls to the table and the faint sound of the paper rustling is all I can hear.
“I don’t understand what happened,” I say, thinking out loud. “He never said anything to me about his father or about the business.”
Sue shrugs. “Sometimes people don’t talk about the things that bother them. He’ll be fine.” How can I not know, though? I shared so much of myself with Mason. I was raw and open and giving of so much of me. I know he did the same. I could feel it between us. It wasn’t one sided. I hid the darkest secrets from him … and he did the same with me. A new form of regret wraps itself around my throat. I should make sure he’s all right like he did for me. That’s an excuse I can use to run back to him.
“Coffee?” Kat asks as she sits down and places a hot ceramic mug in front of me. It’s been mixed with an almost offensive amount of creamer and the color matches my cream accent pillows at home … just the way I l.
With a grateful smile, I accept it and blow over the top, inhaling the smell and trying to feel normal. Or as normal as I can, all things considered. Kat’s busy reading over the manuscript on her phone, but whether or not it will do is nowhere on my mind. All I can think about is the fact that Mason was there for me, so many times. He needs someone right now. The only question is whether or not he’d let me in.
She murmurs the lines as she opens the book.
Sweet lies you told me, beautiful forever.
A dream or a terror, I craved it, whichever.
A taste so sweet, too much to say no,
I couldn’t resist and you couldn’t let go.
Your healing touch a
nd comforting kiss—
But I never thought it would end like this.
Kat tilts her head, her lips stopping midpoem and she gives me a questioning look as she says, “Is this one about Jace?”
The book was supposed to be about mourning and loss. It is, but it’s a deceptive cocktail of the two men. I loved and lost both of them.
All I can do is take a sip of coffee and try not to choke on the lie as I say, “I don’t remember.”
“So have you heard from him?” Maddie asks me, thankfully saving me from Kat’s interrogation.
My ponytail swishes along the crook of my neck as I shake my head no. He got the message that we were over after I repeatedly refused his calls. I don’t think he’ll ever reach out to me again.
“Have you called him?” Maddie asks.
“Not yet,” I tell her. “Or, no. No, I haven’t.” Thump, thump, thump, my poor little heart won’t stay where it’s supposed to and I hide in my coffee cup again.
Her voice is hopeful as she scoots forward, the sound of the stool scratching against the floor making an annoying screech. “You should.”
“I don’t know ... I want to. He was …” I trail off as I run my fingers up and down the cup and stare at a lone muffin in front of me. I haven’t eaten since I heard about Mason this morning.
“I think you should,” Maddie says softly.
“I think you should shut your mouth and let things happen as they should,” Sue bites out and Maddie merely gives her a look of defiance.
“She breaks up with him and he falls apart—” Maddie looks like she’s about to go off on Sue, but she doesn’t get much out.
“Stop it,” Sue says. “That’s not her fault.” Sue points at the paper and adds, “This has nothing to do with Jules.”
“You don’t know that.” Maddie’s response is soft as she looks down to her own blueberry muffin and picks at the top of it. “Everyone’s saying he’s heartbroken.”
You Are My Reason (You Are Mine Book 1) Page 15