Hard to Trust (Hard to Love Book 2)

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Hard to Trust (Hard to Love Book 2) Page 3

by L. M. Reid


  “He smiles,” she comments. Her voice filled with surprise – and amusement.

  Usually I am nothing more than a grumpy dick when I am here, pissed at the world and heartbroken at seeing my mom in this condition. Dr. Daphne caught me on the rare occasion that I let myself forget all this bullshit, including my need for revenge, and l actually allowed myself a moment of happiness.

  “Don’t get used to it,” I tell her, though there is still a hint of a smile on my face.

  Doctor Daphne hasn’t been treating my mother long, only about six months. Her previous doctor took a surprise early retirement and left my mother without a treatment plan or options. So after ripping him a new asshole, I began to search for a doctor that would be good enough to treat my mother. I wasn’t just taking any slap dick. No, my mom deserves the best and come hell or high water that is what she was going to get.

  I spent weeks interviewing doctors, each seeming more incompetent than the last. Needing a break from it all, I headed to a bar one night and sat there downing whiskey after whiskey. That’s when I met Doctor Daphne. At the time, I didn’t know she was a doctor, frankly I was just trying to get her to come home with me. I eye her up and down momentarily, something I still wouldn’t mind doing. I won’t though, because she has been the best thing that has happened to my mother, especially considering her recent decline.

  “How’s our girl today?” she asks as she grabs for her chart.

  I love that she loves my mother. I love her dedication to her patients. It makes giving up a chance to bed her totally worth it – okay, mostly worth it.

  I was so close that night at the bar, I had her eating out of my hand. Then she mentioned she was a doctor. So, I threw a question her way and I couldn’t have liked her answer any more than I did. Within a moment, the whole reason of the evening changed. I quit flirting and began explaining my mother’s case to her. I rattled off every single thing that was ailing my mother, mentally and physically. Yes, the glass of wine in her hand was a clear indication that she was off the clock, but she didn’t stop me, she just listened.

  I hired her on the spot – money and insurance and all that bullshit wasn’t an issue. I needed this doctor, someone who cared about her patients, because if she cares she’s going to take care of them. And that is exactly what she’s done these last several months.

  Not to mention that aside from taking care of my mother, she took care of me. Just before meeting Daphne my desire for exacting revenge on my father soared to new heights. And it made me destroy the one thing in this world that I loved – Reagan Bates.

  Things between Reagan and I had gotten tense. Okay, tense is an understatement. Truth be told, I became so wrapped up in figuring out how to get revenge on my father that I became an unholy asshole. Not to mention my life was dedicated to finding my mother a doctor and plotting, planning, living, and breathing finding a way to make him pay for what he did to her. It took over my mind, took over my goddamned life. No matter how I tried to explain it to her, she didn’t understand. She couldn’t. She offered solace and comfort – anything to get me to give up the revenge bullshit. I couldn’t though, not even for her. So I became more distant, more of a dick. I paid less attention to her and more to trying to figure out the best course of action to destroy my father once and for all. I pushed her away. I pushed so damn hard that she left and found someone else.

  I still miss her sometimes but more than anything I hate that me and my twisted mind are why we aren’t together anymore.

  “I hate that she’s here,” Daphne says. Her words bring me from my thoughts.

  That makes two of us.

  “She’s not going to get any better, is she?” I already know the answer to the question, but I need to hear it from her. I need to know that putting her in this damn place was the right thing to do because it was the last thing I wanted to do. It fucking kills me inside that she’s here. The home nurses, the caregivers, they were just having too hard of a time handling her. I tried to pitch in as much as I could, but hell, even I couldn’t get through to her sometimes.

  Daphne rests her hand on my shoulder. “If you’re asking me if I think you’re doing the right thing, the answer is yes.”

  I nod silently in acceptance of her answer.

  Deep down, I know it’s the truth. But each and every time I look at my mother, lying in this bed, frail and helpless, I question what else I could have done, how I could have stopped this from happening.

  “Quit doing that.”

  “Doing what?” I ask.

  Daphne squats down next to me. “Blaming yourself. What happened to her – it’s not your fault.”

  She’s right. It’s his. And the thought of that has my blood boiling and my body tensing.

  “Or anyone else’s,” she finishes noticing the anger rising in me and knowing full well that I blame my dad for my mother’s condition. “I thought you were giving up on that?”

  “Giving up?” I scoff. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Considering what it’s cost you already, don’t you think you should?”

  I look in her direction, my eyes a warning glare. There may have been one drunken night that I opened up to Daphne, spilled my pussified guts out to her about Reagan, my love for her, and how I single-handedly destroyed us. Not to mention how it was killing me inside. But that one moment of vulnerability does not give her the right to comment on my life.

  “I’m just saying…”

  I stand from my seat, needing to get away from her compassionate gaze. “I know what you’re saying.” A silence hangs between us. “I already lost her. I have nothing else to lose.”

  I wait for her to tell me that’s not true, or to argue with me, but she doesn’t. Instead, I feel her hand on my arm. I turn to look at her, not Doctor Daphne, but my friend. She gives me a sweet smile and wraps her arms around me. After a moment I do the same, accepting the comfort she’s trying to give me. “Maybe not, but you have so much to gain,” she tells me.

  I raise my eyes and look at my mother in the bed. Maybe I do, but none of that matters until I make him pay.

  5

  Ashlynn

  “You wanted to see me?” I ask as I walk into Elliott’s office.

  Despite the fact that our ‘relationship’ is based on blackmail, so far our arrangement seems to be working well. Elliott was right, I have made some amazing contacts and he seems pleased with his end of the bargain. Though I’m not exactly sure why.

  For me, the worst part of all of this? No sex.

  It’s been two weeks since I agreed to Elliott’s terms. In doing so I essentially agreed to keep it in my pants. There could be no slip ups. No one could misconstrue anything. If I so much as gave anyone the impression that I was anything less than infatuated with Elliott, I was done. That meant that I had to end things with Carter, my benefit without friendship. Sure, he and I had a couple rounds of goodbye sex, but since then – nothing. And two weeks is a long damn time when for so long I was used to regularly scheduled sex of at least four days a week and multiples each time. The ache between my thighs is becoming more and more intense each day and regardless of how many times I pleasure myself, it’s just not enough.

  Christ, I never thought I would say this but I miss Carter.

  Get it together, Ashlynn.

  When I see Elliott is alone, I relax a bit. I don’t have to put on the over exaggerated show of affection I do when we’re in public. I hate myself a little more just thinking about it - fawning and hanging all over him. It’s so embarrassing. I am not that kind of woman to begin with, but especially not with a man that I’m not even into.

  Don’t get me wrong, as far as arrangements go – it could be worse. A lot worse. Johnny worse. Still, being forced into something, even something that promises a positive outcome like my association with Elliott does, leaves much to be desired.

  Elliott makes his way over to me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “You look beautiful,” he tells me. I accept the compli
ment with a smile as he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me toward his desk. I take a seat in one of the plush brown chairs as he sets himself on the edge of the desk.

  “How are your cases?” he asks.

  The man is all business, all the time. Fine by me. The less I have to put on this charade, the better.

  “They’re good. I’m wrapping up one and just in the midst of the other. Both are in line to have a favorable outcome.” I could give more detail, but he doesn’t care about that. Elliott cares about wins and losses.

  “Good. I was just approached with a prospective new client. One that I think will really set Cahill and Cahill aside from all the other law firms.”

  His divulging of this information to me has me on the edge of my seat. New clients, high-profile cases, it’s what I live for. It’s also exactly what is going to get me what I want – a place as partner in the firm.

  “Who is it?” I ask my curiosity piqued.

  Before he can fill me in, we’re interrupted by a knock at the door and Brayden walking in without waiting for an invitation. Brayden Cahill, Elliott’s partner and youngest son.

  “There’s the happy couple,” Brayden replies as he makes his way in and plops down in the chair next to me. “Planning your next date?”

  I roll my eyes at him, making no attempt to hide it. Brayden’s a nice enough guy and a damn good attorney, but being a friend? Frankly, he sucks at it. Lately, so do I. I hate lying to him especially since I’m pretty sure he sees right through it anyway. Brayden may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. It’s what Elliott wants, so I go along with it.

  Brayden’s amused gaze bounces between his father and me. I let him get away with it for now because despite my arrangement with Elliott, having Brayden’s backing is important to me to. My friendship with Brayden is not for naught. See, B tends to get a little – distracted – once in a while. And each and every time that happens, guess who swoops in to save the day? This girl. That’s right, I have covered for him with Daddy Dearest more times than I can count, which is exactly why I have his backing for partner. Because if Elliott found out about all of B’s screwing around and almost failed cases well, let’s just say that heads would be rolling.

  Ignoring Brayden, I look back at Elliott and steer the conversation back to where we were. “Elliott, I assure you, whatever the case is I am up for the challenge,” I tell him. I don’t need him giving this case to Brayden only for him to drop the ball, me to save his ass, and him to get credit. Again.

  “Let me get the rest of the details and we can circle back on it,” Elliott suggests.

  “Whatever it is Dad, I’m sure Ashlynn can handle it,” Brayden compliments.

  “I’m the one that hired her Brayden, I think I know what she’s capable of,” Elliott replies.

  “I know you would typically handle a case like this, but I assure you Elliott, if you give it to me, I will make you proud.”

  “I’m sure you will, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Brayden and I have some business to discuss.”

  “Yes, of course,” I say with a smile. I stand from my seat and press a kiss to Elliott’s cheek. Partially because of Brayden’s presence and partially because the potential of this new case set my body on high alert. The excitement is coursing through me and putting me on edge. And I love it.

  I flash him one last smile before I head out the door.

  6

  Grayson

  I review the contract I am putting together one last time. Everything seems to be in order, but my brain is so fried I’m not even sure if I spelled my name right.

  Ever since Daphne brought up Reagan the other day, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. Specifically, the conversation that put an end to us, the one where I refused to put aside my need for revenge for her. I told her she could either accept me for who I am, or she could leave.

  She left.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  I should hit the gym, work off some of this restless energy that thinking of Reagan has left me with. Instead I pour myself a glass of whiskey. The burn of the liquid as it slides down my throat does little to diminish the ache in my mind – or my heart.

  I am over Reagan, I really am. What I can’t seem to get over is the fact that I’m the reason. I did this. My need for revenge did this.

  The alarm alerting me I have a text message goes off on my phone. I welcome the distraction, especially since nothing else seems to be working.

  I pick the phone up from the glass table, Brayden’s name brightly lit on my screen. I tap on his name, opening the message.

  Brayden: How’s mom?

  Me: The same.

  I can’t help the thought that slips into my mind. If he really wanted to know – why doesn’t he visit her more? Hell, when was the last time he even saw her?

  Brayden: Give her a kiss for me.

  Do it yourself.

  Me: Is there a reason for your text?

  Direct and to the point.

  Brayden: Thought you might like to know – Dad is looking to add a partner to the firm.

  Me: What do I care?

  Brayden: You care.

  Brayden and I don’t always see eye to eye, especially not when it comes to our father. But, right now? I think he might actually be trying to help me. Either that or he’s setting me up. Before I can respond, another text comes through.

  Brayden: When Dad retires it would just be me and you. Wouldn’t that be great?

  Me: Yeah, it would.

  It’s only a half truth. I love my brother, I do. Over the years, though, he has spent way too much time with my father, become too much like him. They are both self-involved, money hungry assholes.

  Now, I’m not saying that I’m not an asshole. I can be – when warranted. But, for the most part, I pride myself on being a decent guy, a guy my mother would be proud of.

  When he mentions us running the practice together though, I think about the old days when it was just me and B against the world. We were brothers and best friends. If things could be like that again, I would jump at the chance to work with him, run a practice with him, and be brothers with him. Real brothers.

  I look at the picture of my mother on my mantle. It’s my favorite picture of her: young, vibrant, and smiling. I placed it there as a reminder. The woman she was versus the woman she now is. I close my eyes and am able to clearly see her lying in the bed in the facility: weak, broken, and a shell of who she once was.

  Anger rises inside me. She’s that way because of him, Elliott Cahill, my father for lack of a better term. He destroyed the strong woman my mother once was and left her a debilitated mess. He is the reason she’s in that facility, he is the reason her vibrancy was wasted.

  Brayden: So? What do you say?

  I consider the information Brayden gave me. I consider what it could mean. I look down at Brayden’s text again. What do I say? I smile as the plan begins to quickly formulate in my mind. Get the partnership, get access to the dirt on my father that I know he has buried, and destroy him. This – this could work.

  Me: I’m in.

  Brayden: Awesome. Just a quick heads up… you do have some competition.

  Me: Competition?

  Brayden: Ashlynn Robbins. She’s sharp and determined.

  Me: Maybe, but she hasn’t met me yet.

  7

  Grayson

  “When will you be back?” Hal asks as I pack up my laptop.

  It’s been a couple days since I got the text from Brayden about the partner spot and my revenge plan got conjured up in my head. I told Hal that I needed to focus on becoming partner, that he was in charge of the practice which made him giddy. His family is a little crazy to say the least so anything to keep him busy and off their radar thrills him. This is no exception.

  “I’m not sure,” I reply.

  After all, you can’t put a time limit on revenge. And I certainly don’t plan on coming back until I’ve made him suffer.<
br />
  “You’re really going to trust me here, all by myself?” he says with a laugh knowing that I have a bit of a controlling nature.

  “I don’t, but I also don’t have much of a choice,” I tease.

  Hal is the best damn partner I could have asked for. Between the two of us, this tiny little firm is thriving – all without killing ourselves and still enjoying the hell out of life.

  “As a friend…” Hal proceeds. I eye him, urging him to continue. “Are you sure you want to do this? Isn’t life simpler the way it is now? Happier? I know you hate him, but…”

  “Hate isn’t a strong enough word,” I interject. “I get what you’re saying, and I appreciate the concern. The answer is yes, though. I want this. More so, she deserves it.”

  “She wouldn’t want this, Gray.”

  My mother would hate that I’m doing this. No matter what he did to her, how he treated her, her loyalty never faded. He’s your father, she would always remind me. She never blamed him for what happened to her and she hated that I did. So, no, she wouldn’t want this.

  I do, though. So bad that I can taste it. Now, I have my chance and there is nothing that it going to stop me.

  “You’re right, she wouldn’t. But I need to do it. I know I’m right, Hal. I know he did this to her. I just have to prove it. He needs to pay.

  I lob my bag onto my shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

  ***

  After leaving my office I head straight to the building that houses Cahill & Cahill. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I take a deep breath and head inside, flashing the employee badge that Brayden sent me. Without making eye contact, I quickly make my way past the guard and into the office.

  Assuming Brayden is being upfront with me, my father has no idea that I’m coming and even less of a clue that I’m throwing my hat in the ring for partner. I smile to myself as I contemplate what look he will have on his face when he sees me standing in his office tomorrow. Shock? Horror? Anger? All three are a possibility and I will settle for any one of them; preferably, all of them.

 

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