“I should have protected you.”
I force myself to sit more upright, biting the inside of my cheek to resist crying out as pain slams into me. “You saved me, Jackson. You’re my hero.”
A look of sheer disgust washes over his face. “I’m the anti-hero, Nessa. Please don’t paint me as anything but that.”
“Why would you say that?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
His features even out as he pulls into the assigned parking space, cutting the engine. He smiles as he turns to me. “Ignore me. I’m in a weird mood. Worrying about you and lack of sleep has messed with my wiring.” He flashes me one of his trademark grins.
Jackson carries me in the elevator, cradling me close as we travel to the penthouse. As soon as we are inside, he carries me straight to his bedroom.
He is the most attentive caregiver ever, and I fall a little more in love with him. After helping me to shower, he dresses me in clean pajamas before administering my pain meds and falling into bed beside me. We sleep the afternoon away before staying in bed watching TV and talking.
Hunt returns from my apartment confirming the police have finished their forensic analysis. I have a momentary bout of panic that the asshole left prints until I remember he wore gloves.
Jackson cooks dinner, serving it to me in bed. He props me up on pillows and puts The English Patient on when he leaves to go for a run. Hunt keeps me company for a while, reminding me I need to take more pain pills. It doesn’t take long until I nod off again.
I wake suddenly, sometime in the middle of night. Jackson is out cold beside me, his fingers entwined in mine. My heart surges to life, and I swallow over the messy ball of emotion clogging my throat. I came so close to losing him, and I hated how it made me feel. I never want to experience pain like that again, so I vow to do everything in my power to make our relationship work.
My thoughts return to last night, and fear for Kayleigh is at the forefront of my mind. I don’t trust Aaron not to take this out on her because he didn’t get to punish me. Terror consumes me again, and I mull over my options as I lie awake, unable to sleep. My choices are limited, because I’m under a time constraint, and I’ve got to take action now.
As daylight filters into the room, I know what I must do.
I have to fess up to Jackson and Sawyer.
About the attack and the sexual, physical, and emotional abuse I suffered at Aaron’s hands as a kid. I’m terrified it will color how Jackson sees me, but I must put my own selfish needs aside for my sister.
I cannot protect her alone.
I need money and a team of kickass attorneys.
I don’t have those kinds of resources, but the guys do.
I need their help, and that means telling them everything.
However, fate intervenes, making that unnecessary.
Mom calls at three p.m., and this time, I pick up. My hands are shaking as I answer her call, wondering what she has to say.
“He’s dead,” she blurts without even saying hello. “Aaron is dead.”
I don’t respond for a couple seconds, totally shocked. “What?” I splutter.
“The police were just here. He didn’t come home last night, but I assumed he was with one of his whores.” She doesn’t sound surprised or annoyed. I guess I’m not the only one who knew their marriage was a sham. “He wrapped his car around a tree sometime in the early hours of the morning. He was drunk, and there was evidence of narcotics in his system. He died upon impact.”
“He’s really dead?” This feels surreal.
“He is. I have to go to the morgue to formally identify him, but his ID was in his wallet, and the police said it’s definitely him.”
I burst out crying. Words filter down the line, but I can’t hear them, and she eventually hangs up. Wave after wave of relief floods my system as I purge some deep-seated pain.
Thank you, dark fairy godmother, or karma, or whoever the fuck up there is finally looking out for me.
However this happened, I am so grateful.
I’m so fucking happy he’s dead.
Good riddance.
I don’t care how that makes me sound. That man was a monster who abused me and my mother for years. I still don’t know what he has done to my little sister, but I’m confident it hadn’t been going on long, and I’m hopeful this won’t destroy her in the same way it destroyed me.
“Babe?” Jackson crashes into the room, his eyes wide with terror. “What’s wrong?”
He sits on the edge of the bed, and I collapse against him, sobbing into his shirt. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is okay. It’s going to be okay.”
_______________
I stay at the penthouse for the next week, and Jackson and Sawyer prove they meant every word when they said they were here for me now. They attend the stepmonster’s funeral with me, escorting me to the house afterward where Mom and I play our roles to perfection. I stay the night with Jackson by my side, and the following morning, I have a brief talk with Mom.
There is a lot we need to say, but now isn’t the right time. I need to let the dust settle a little before I broach the subject of therapy for Kayleigh. However, I get her agreement that I can see Kayleigh and Hunter whenever I like, and we make tentative plans for next week.
I am hoping to develop a stronger relationship with Hunter now Aaron is out of the picture. He always kept us apart, and his close relationship with his son meant I couldn’t arrange sneaky weekly visits with him like I did with Kayleigh. It’s not Hunter’s fault, but I know I couldn’t have trusted him to keep the visits secret in the way Kayleigh did.
Aaron dying fixes a lot of things, but nothing can fix the damage done to my relationship with my mother. She failed to protect me. She knew what kind of hell I was enduring, and she sought solace in a pill bottle instead of saving me. I know she was a victim too. I know he hit her, and I’m sure that’s not the extent of it, but she’s an adult. She had the power to stop it, and she did nothing. I will never forgive her for that, but I want to have an amicable relationship with her for the sake of the twins.
They need me now more than ever.
Unlike Mom and me, they are genuinely grieving the loss of their father. Kayleigh is every bit as upset as Hunter, but I don’t know if she’s confused and struggling to understand her emotions or if it’s all genuine grief. Until I get to the bottom of what he did to her, it’s too hard to guess what she’s feeling.
I hope for her sake that it hadn’t really begun. That she can forget it and remember her dad how he was before, because that means she won’t live with the knowledge about who he really was. It’s better for the twins if they can mourn the man they thought he was and grow up without the type of pain I will continue to hide deep inside.
I hope Mom seizes this opportunity to turn her life around. That she can be a parent to the twins and give them the mother I was denied.
I guess time will tell.
_______________
I return to my apartment the day before Jackson and Sawyer are due to leave for Rydeville. Physically, I’m feeling a lot better. The bruises are fading, and I don’t ache as much. Emotionally, I’m not doing so hot. I’m going to miss Jackson so much when he leaves.
I got excited a few days ago when Mom deposited a large sum of money in my account. I have enough cash to pay for RU now, but enrollment is closed for the semester. I was so disappointed when I got off the phone with the administration department of the private university. However, they have emailed me the relevant forms for January, and I’m hopeful I’ll be accepted then.
The silver lining is I’m no longer stuck in the city. I have money now, which gives me options. So, I’m reverting to Plan B: I’m going to move to Rydeville and find temporary work there until the new year. That way, I’ll be around to see Jackson every day, giving our relationship every chance to flourish. It’s the next best compromise and a hell of a lot better than the long-distance relationship we had planned.
I handed
in my notice to Paul, but it will be a couple of weeks before I can move. I need to find a place to live and pack up my stuff, and I don’t want to leave until Paul has found a replacement.
I’m sitting on my couch, listening to music as I rifle through the mountain of piled-up mail when I come across an interesting, large, shiny silver envelope. I flip it over, but it has no return address on it. Opening it, I remove a few bundles of paper with mounting curiosity.
I’m blown away by the contents, and I have to reread it several times before it’s sunk in.
Holy shit.
I turn on my laptop, copying the link from the letter, flipping through the photos with a disbelieving smile on my face. I flop down on my bed, laughing hysterically, excitement bubbling in my veins. I scream into my pillow, beyond exhilarated.
I cannot believe this.
I don’t know how Jackson has done this, but I’m giddy he went to so much trouble. This proves his feelings are real, and if I was harboring any doubts, this has eliminated all of them.
I don’t get why he wants to remain anonymous. Probably because he knows I wouldn’t accept it from him otherwise.
I’m going to pay him back as soon as he comes clean about what he’s done.
But, for now, I’ll play along.
_______________
“You didn’t have to go to this much trouble,” Jackson says the following afternoon as we are enjoying a final meal together. Sawyer is supervising the removal of the last few boxes while Jackson and I are enjoying the warm sunshine up on the roof.
“I got everything from the diner,” I explain. “It wasn’t too much trouble, and with my staff discount, it didn’t even cost much.” I scoop up another serving of lasagna. “I brought containers for the leftovers so you can take them with you to reheat later. I also baked more of those brownies you like,” I add, removing the box from my bag. I slide it across to him, smiling. “Oh, and I picked up some of that aromatherapy sports massage oil I mentioned. It works great on tight calf muscles.” I hand him the silver bottle.
“You’re spoiling me.” Jackson winks.
“Consider it a thank-you gift for taking such good care of me last week.” I put my silverware down, trying to contain my grin, but it’s been permanent on my face since I opened that envelope yesterday.
“You seem … happy.” He looks and sounds perplexed. “Can’t wait to see the back of me, huh?”
I giggle, and he stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head or ten. He leans his elbows on the table, shooting me an inquisitive look.
Fine. He wants to maintain the charade. I’ll play along.
“That’s not why I’m so happy I could burst,” I exclaim.
“Put a man out of his misery.” He gives me a goofy smile.
“I was going through my mail last night, and I made a very important discovery.” Butterflies are going crazy in the pit of my stomach, like they have been since yesterday, and I’m smiling so hard my face is actually paining me.
“What kind of discovery?” he asks, and I have to hand it to him. He’s got the unsuspecting, dumb role down pat. I’m practically bouncing in my seat, and he chuckles. “What did you take because I’m thinking I want me some of that,” he teases.
“Oh my God, Jackson.” I jump up, rounding the table and throwing myself on his lap. “I’m so high on life right now,” I squeal.
He makes an “oomph” sound when I land in his lap, laughing as his arms securely wrap around my back. “Okay, crazy girl.” He tweaks my nose. “Spit it out.”
“I’ve been awarded this amazing scholarship from an anonymous fund.”
“What?” His brows knit together, and he looks completely caught off guard. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he is completely in the dark.
Give that man an Oscar!
I peck his lips. “We can be together now! I have a place in RU, and an apartment, and everything. Isn’t it awesome?”
Shock splays across his face, and he really should consider taking drama classes.
I kiss him again. “Now, we don’t have to do the long-distance thing. We can be together for real.” I clap my hands. “This is going to be the best year ever.”
PART II
Rydeville University – Freshman Year
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jackson
I’M DRUNK BY the time Hunt arrives at my house in Rydeville. It’s a miracle I made it here in one piece, because I was so fucking pissed as I drove from New York that I barely registered the journey.
I pop the cap on another beer, guzzling it like its water as I pace the room, my brain churning with thoughts.
“What the actual fuck?” Hunt asks, dumping his duffel bag on the floor in the living room, surveying the mess I’ve created.
Empty beer bottles litter the coffee table and papers are scattered across the hardwood floor. I scoured the files I’ve collected over the past six months, looking for clues, because there’s got to be something we missed.
“Are you drunk?” he asks, scrutinizing my face.
“Why the fuck does that matter?” I hiss, swallowing another mouthful of beer.
“What’s happened now?” He folds his arms, a hint of concern crossing his face.
“She fucking played me.” I shake my head, barking out a laugh. I jab my finger in the air, ignoring how the ground sways under my feet. “I thought I was in control, but it’s been her all along.”
“You’re not making any sense.” He clears papers off the couch, dropping onto it. He yawns, clawing a hand through his hair.
I grind my teeth to the molars. “She fucking knows, Hunt. Nessa knows!”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
“She is in cahoots with that murdering bastard!” I yell, clutching the arm of the couch as the room tilts. “This was a setup.” I flop down beside him. “A ploy to get to me. I’m surprised she hasn’t knifed me in my sleep already.”
Hunt exhales heavily. “What am I missing?”
“He wants me dead,” I slur, gulping back more beer. “I killed his precious son, and now, he wants to take me out.”
“If that was true, he would’ve tried before now,” Hunt calmly replies. “He might be overseas, but he still has friends and resources. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“Thanks for that reassurance,” I snarl, flipping him off.
Hunt stands. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
I tug on his jeans, pulling him back down. “She’s coming here,” I explain. “Nessa’s enrolled in RU, and he set her up with an apartment. It’s all arranged.”
“She told you that?” Disbelief blares in his tone.
“Yep.”
“She told you it was Christian?” He quirks a brow.
“Of course, she didn’t,” I scoff. “It was an ‘anonymous’ special scholarship.” I make air quotes with my fingers. “She must think I’m an idiot if she expects me to believe that horseshit.”
Hunt’s brow puckers as he thinks about it. I slurp more of my beer. “Maybe, she doesn’t know. Maybe, he’s done it like this to keep the truth from her.”
“Then, what’s the fucking point of it? He can hardly get her to do his dirty work if she’s not in the know.” Anger pumps through my veins, and I clench my fist. “I know you want to see the good in her, Hunt, but it’s all been an act.” I eyeball him, venom flying from my mouth. “She’s changed but not in the way we thought. He got to her. He set the whole thing up. He told her to reel me in, and when I’d fallen for her, when my defenses were lowered, they were going to strike.”
I throw my bottle at the wall, and it shatters upon impact. Climbing to my feet, I pace again. Rage is like an inferno inside me, building and building, needing an outlet. I clench and unclench my fists as I walk back and forth across the room. My head spins from a combination of alcohol and confusion, and I’m so fucked up. I recall the past couple months and how things were between us, and there’s a par
t of my brain that refuses to accept she was faking. It seemed so real. She seemed so real. But none of it was.
To think all those displays of emotion were an act.
She really is a piece of work.
“She’s a nutjob,” I murmur to myself as I pace, forgetting Hunt is in the room. “Of course, she is. She’s his offspring. Her mission was to make me fall in love with her, and I’m the stupid fuck who did.” I grab fistfuls of my hair, pulling tight, enjoying the stinging pain racing across my scalp.
“So, you admit you’re in love with her,” Hunt states.
“What?” I stop pacing, glaring at him. “Of course, I’m not.”
“But you just said—”
“I didn’t fucking say that, all right!” I slam my fist into the wall, cracking the plaster and leaving a hole. “I don’t fucking love her. It was fake. It was all fake. On my side. On her side. The whole fucking thing is a sham. It’s all part of the game.” I plop my butt on the coffee table, leaning toward my buddy. “That’s why we haven’t been able to find anything. Why we couldn’t place Dani on that island owned by Gerald Allen Junior, why we couldn’t connect him to Christian and the elite, why we can’t locate that fucker’s hiding place, why I couldn’t find any evidence that he’s been in contact with Nessa, and why Nessa has a bodyguard.”
I throw up my hands. I think I’ve made my point clear.
“Christian is protecting his investment and waiting for the right time to make a move. He is one step ahead of us, Hunt.” I shake my head, disgusted with myself for being so clueless and ignorant of what was under my nose.
“This is all conjecture, man.” Hunt leans forward, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re pissed, but you’re drunk, and your feelings for her are clouding your judgment. The only way you’ll know for sure is to ask her. Sit Nessa down and ask her.”
I snort out a laugh of incredulity. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I can’t ask her!” I roar. “That will play straight into his hands. He can’t know that we know. That is the only way we can get ahead now. She has promised him something, and I’m gonna find out what.” I bite the inside of my mouth, drawing blood. “All the shit I’ve done to protect her, and she was probably laughing behind my back. I am such a fucking idiot.” I slam my palm into my forehead.
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