"God, I missed you," I told her.
"Me too. I hate this, Jace. I know it's awful ..."
"Watching you with him ..." I couldn't even continue the thought.
"I know. But it's just a couple more days. Let's talk about something else." Her hand rubbed a soothing line up and down my arm, over my shoulder, and I closed my eyes, letting myself relax. "How's your mom? Your brother?"
Tension seeped back into me. "Let's not talk about that." There was no solution there, and I didn't want to waste the few minutes I had left with her on something so awful. "Mom says Elvis is good company."
She laughed lightly. "He's a good little guy." Her bright blue eyes fixed mine. "Tell me what's going on with your brother, Jace. I know you're worried. Don't keep it from me."
I sighed and pulled her closer, telling myself not to tell her, not to pull her into this. But the comfort of having her in my arms, having her soft body so near to mine and her sweet voice encouraging me to share was too much. I started talking, and then I couldn't stop. I told her about the rehab center, about what would happen if the hospital released Jarred to my mother, about how he'd relapse and Mom would blame herself. "It's impossible," I told her. "And there's nothing I can do to stop it. I already scared the shit out of some poor hospital administrator and a discharge nurse, neither of whom have any real control over this."
"Aren't there rehab centers that don't have wait lists?"
I squeezed my eyes shut. If I told her the truth, I already knew what would happen. She'd try to fix it. With money, which was like water to her. But on top of everything she was already doing for Mom, it would be way too much. And how could I hold my head up around her if I let her save me over and over again? I was a strong capable man. I could figure this out. "Not an option." I prayed she would leave it alone.
"That's insane. I know someone who just went into one a week ago, and she hadn't even planned it the week before that. It was like checking into a hotel. They can’t all be overcrowded."
"I don't know," I said. "I don’t want you to worry about it."
"Don't be ridiculous, if I can help, I will."
I let her go, sat up. I hated charity, ever since I’d been old enough to understand it, what it really was. We’d worn our cousins’ hand me downs when we were little. But that last time we’d visited, before we’d been asked politely to leave, my cousin had made fun of me for wearing his old shirt. I would never forget that feeling, the shame of accepting someone else’s castoffs. Charity made it impossible to hold your head up high. "Don't, Juliet. You've done enough."
She pulled the sheet up around her and sat up, turning toward me. "Jace. This is life or death. If I can help, it could save Jarred's life." She stared at me, and I knew she was right. Was I willing to risk my brother's life for my own pride?
"It's too much, Juliet. The private places are tens of thousands of dollars. We just ... my family ..." I trailed off. There was no point telling her we didn't have it. She knew that. I stared at my hands in my lap. My stupid, strong, ineffectual hands, callused from work and war and fighting but incapable of making the kind of money that would save my family. "I can't let you do it."
Juliet reached out and took one of my hands in hers, held it in the warmth of her palms. "Jace, you don't understand. I want to."
Charity. All I could think about was how this was charity. How it made me smaller and her bigger. How it ruined the equilibrium that was already hanging by a delicate thread between us. But it was my brother's life.
I couldn't speak. I just shook my head, wishing I could change anything at all.
"It's just money." Her voice was a plea, and I knew she believed her words. Because to people who had money, that was all it was. To people who didn't? Money was like water in a desert. Fundamental and scarce. And impossible to hold in your hands.
"If you do this, it'll ruin everything." The words slipped out, and I knew they needed context, but my mind was so ragged I couldn't add it. I couldn't make her see how her help made me feel small, how it emasculated me, how being saved by the woman I was falling in love with made even my love seem powerless and ineffectual.
"Why?" She asked. "Why can't I help?"
I thought about my brother's laughing face, the one I'd seen as a kid. I thought about the scraped knees I'd been able to bandage for him, the tears I'd wiped away when the kids on the bus had bullied him. I thought about how I'd knocked down the kid who'd been about to punch him after his first day in high school—when I'd been a senior and he'd been a freshman, how I'd saved him over and over. And how I couldn't save him now. Except by swallowing my pride and saying yes. Giving up my own sense of self to preserve his life.
"Okay," I said finally. And then I stood, dressed, and left the room before Juliet could say anything else. She watched me, asking me to stop, to talk, until I reached the door, and then I heard her soft voice. "Jace?" But the door was already closing between us.
“I can’t,” I managed. Maybe loudly enough for her to hear.
I was blind with anger and humiliation as I descended the stairs. Which was why I ran directly into Chad as he crossed the darkened front room.
For a moment we just stood facing one another in the darkness. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his thick skull.
"Everything okay upstairs?" he asked.
"Yeah."
He looked between me and the stairs for a minute. "Maybe everything is more than okay, eh?"
I stared at him, wishing I could set him on fire with my eyes. I was already full of shame and anger, and now a deep gnawing worry crept into the mix. Chad was an idiot, but he could certainly figure this out. And if he told Austin, if I lost my job right now, just when I needed money more than ever… "Everything is fine."
"You getting cozy with the boss, Jace?" His eyes narrowed as he thought about this. There'd been plenty of evidence back in LA, if he'd cared to see it. But now he was thinking about it, and I had no doubt he'd figure out that Juliet and I were involved.
"She's with McDonnell. You know that." I could barely force the words out. My mind was spun out, exhausted. I wasn't sure I even cared if he knew. I'd get fired, but maybe then at least I wouldn't have to see the look I knew I'd find in Juliet's eyes from today on—the look that told me I was less than a man, that I was someone who couldn't take care of his own, someone weak.
"Maybe she's with you too, eh?"
"She's not." I told him, my hands in fists so tight they ached. "I'm going outside." I pushed past him, aware that I'd done nothing to tamp down his suspicions.
Maybe it didn't matter anymore.
Chapter Twenty-One
Juliet
Having Jace's permission to help his brother set me spinning into action, though I hated the way he’d left. I understood too, though. He was proud. It was part of what made him the man I cared about. He’d told me straight out how hard it was for him to accept help, but this was important. Finally, I felt like I could do something to show the man I was falling in love with that I cared—that I'd do just about anything for him. I wanted to be able to demonstrate what he meant to me, and though money was just money, if I could help this way, I was glad. I wanted to make his life easier if I could, give him one less thing to worry about, since at the moment I was only adding to his worries with all the crap with Ryan and with Zac.
Jace had stood by, hadn't complained as I'd asked him to pretend with me. He was loyal and steadfast—like Elvis, except with less snorting and a better command over his autonomous nervous system. Jace was my rock, and I was going to do whatever I could to show him what it meant to me.
I dug around in my email, looking for the name of the place Audra Harbinger had checked into a few days ago. I'd heard about it from a mutual friend I emailed with now and then, another actress. And after a few minutes of digging, I found the email.
"Hollybrook," I whispered, pulling up a browser. It was perfect.
It was late in Maryland, but earlier in Californi
a, where the center was located, so I called. And they had a spot for Jarred, for a significant price, of course. My heart lifted and I felt some of the tension float out of me. We could get him in. They'd pick him up from the hospital when he was discharged—Jarred wouldn't get the chance to fall down again. We could save him.
I was smiling when I'd finished arranging everything, and despite the hour, I picked up my phone to text Jace and let him know.
Me: The place is called Hollybrook. It's in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead. They'll pick Jarred up when he's discharged. It's all arranged.
Me: You'll just need to call to let them know the planned release day and time. Here's the number: 909-555-1945
I watched my phone for a response, and though three dots danced for a moment as if Jace was typing, no response came. I pushed away the disappointment—what had I expected?
After fifteen minutes, I forced myself to stop staring at the phone and go wash my face and get ready for bed. When I plugged in my phone and laid down, he still hadn't answered. And I tried not to think about him being angry, him holding onto his pride so tightly he wouldn’t see I was helping out of love, because I cared. I didn’t let myself think about the possibility that maybe I’d just made a choice—helping his family over having him.
He must have fallen asleep, I told myself. He'd respond when he woke up for his watch shift and there'd be an answer when I woke up.
Sleep came quickly once I'd closed my eyes. Between my confusion over Jace’s hot and cold responses and the stress over my own messed up life, I was exhausted.
And my dreams were full of dark chocolate eyes and big warm hands, Jace's low rolling laugh. I refused to address the nagging worry that maybe everything that had felt so right could already be broken. I’d been trying to help. How could that have ruined anything?
I woke up early and checked my messages. There was no response from Jace. Still.
But I had a string of texts from Zac.
* * *
Zac: I've got three guys willing to testify against you. Double the settlement if you want to keep the video out of the press?
Zac: I'm not the only cheater here, Juliet.
Zac: Answer me...
* * *
My lawyer had advised me to ignore any contact Zac made, so I took a screenshot and forwarded it to her.
Quick, efficient, businesslike. If only his words didn't affect me at all, but they did. Reading the vindictive and demanding texts from my ex made my head ache and my chest feel hollow. How could I have been so wrong about him? There had been a point where I thought he'd loved me for me.
He'd been so gracious and attentive when we'd first met. But soon after we were married, his attention was definitely more devoted to my income than to me.
But even when things were good, he'd never made me feel seen the way that Jace did. I tried to imagine Zac being happy to spend a night in, to play Mastermind by a fire with me, but I couldn't. Zac wanted to be seen, to go out, to be at the right events with the right people.
I sighed and rolled out of bed, taking the time to shower and get dressed, since the magazine interview was this morning at nine.
I couldn't help but worry about Jace’s silence. How would I spend the day pretending with Ryan for the cameras, if Jace was angry or hurt? We needed to talk, but I didn’t know if there would be time now.
Downstairs, the house was quiet, and I went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker, looking out over the back lawn in hopes of seeing Jace, but he wasn't there. I watched the coffee brew, letting my mind wander aimlessly as worry twisted inside me. Worry over Zac. Over Jace's silence. Over my ability to pull off this thing with Ryan.
When the coffee was ready, I poured a cup, so caught up with what was going on in my head that I didn't even notice Chad appear behind me.
"Got a cup for me?" he asked, startling me as I turned. My breath caught and I gasped as I sloshed coffee over the edge of the cup and my hand.
"Shit," I said, turning back for a towel to mop up the mess.
"Sorry," he said, stepping closer to me, crowding me a bit into the counter as he reached for a paper towel and then knelt down to mop up the puddle I'd made. He stood again, still in my personal space, and grinned down at me, an odd look in his eye. "Didn't mean to scare you."
I slid sideways to get away from him a bit, laughing nervously. "No, it's fine. I was just miles away in my own head. Didn't hear you come in." I motioned to the coffee maker and cups. "Help yourself."
Jace and Chad seemed to work the same shifts most of the time, so I glanced into the hallway, expecting to see Jace nearby, but the front room was silent. A tiny finger of unease crept up my spine, but I told myself to ignore it. I’d been alone with Chad lots of times. He was harmless. Just creepy.
"So," Chad said, seemingly in no hurry to get to whatever station he'd been assigned for the morning. "Long night?"
I smiled at him, my mind beginning to churn over his strange behavior. "Um, no, not really." I could hear a steady beat coming from the basement, along with irregular sounds that told me my sister was awake, and beating up the old punching bags she'd hung down there years ago. I was about to turn toward the basement stairs when there was a knock at the front door.
Chad put his coffee cup on the counter, and pushed past me in the hallway. "Duty calls," he said, his hand brushing me—maybe accidentally—as he went by. I recoiled from his touch and followed him to the front door, hearing the conversation as he opened it.
"Good morning. Hollywood Entertainer to interview Juliet Manchester and Ryan McDonnell? Are we at the right house?"
I glanced at my watch. They were early. Really early. I moved up next to Chad. "Good morning. Glad you could make it," I said. "Please, come in."
Chad motioned the crew into the front room, and I spotted Jace outside, talking to one of the cameramen, as the reporter came up the front steps, her red bob bouncing as she walked. A little stone of concern lodged itself inside me. He was up. And he hadn’t made a point of responding to me? "Good morning Juliet. Wow, this is beautiful."
"Hi there," I said, reaching out a hand to shake. "You're Alison, right?"
She beamed, as if pleased I had recognized her. "I am," she said. "And I'm so happy to be here." She looked around. "We'll need some time to get the room set up. This is where you want us?" She stood in the front parlor, which Tess had said was where she thought the interview should take place.
"If that will work," I told Alison, wishing they had not popped up so early and needing to let Tess know they were here.
"Perfect."
"Excuse me," I said. "Chad can help you if you need anything." The driving urge to get away from Chad was still lingering in my chest, and I slipped through the basement door and down the stairs, relieved to get away from his odd energy.
As I fled down the steps, I could hear Tess breathing out quick hard breaths as her fists and shins struck the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling. "You're still beating the shit out of these bags, huh?" I asked her stepping into the padded space in the center of the unfinished basement.
"Keeps me in shape," she said, smiling. "Gets my mind to still a bit."
I raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the bag. A still mind sounded pretty good right then. Between Zac and Jace, and Chad's weird behavior ... and the magazine people arriving early, I could only wish for a still mind. "Dad would be happy," I said. He'd taught her to box when we were young and she was getting bullied a bit at school. Mom had hated the idea, but Tess had always been physical. "Maybe I could use that." I tapped the speed bag with my fist, watching it bounce.
Tess watched me with big observant eyes. "You doing okay?"
I shrugged and punched the heavy bag, hard. Pain flared through my hand as the bones inside of it smashed into what felt like concrete. The bag barely moved. "Ouch. Shit!" I looked over my knuckles to make sure they weren't bleeding or obviously broken.
"You need to wrap your hands if you're going to hi
t that hard." Tess held up her own wrapped hands, and then switched off the music and picked up her drink. I zoned out while she tidied up and got ready to come back upstairs. She bumped my shoulder. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm great Tess, really." I couldn't tell her anything, no matter how much I wanted to talk. I would have loved to tell her about Jace, about the way my heart squeezed when he was around. Or to get her advice about Zac, or even Chad and his weird behavior this morning, but I couldn't. I couldn't do any of that without jeopardizing the delicate tower of lies I had built to protect myself. And at this point, telling her the truth would hurt Ryan too. His career depended on this link to me, as stupid as that was, and the last thing I needed to do was affect one more person's life in a negative way.
"Ryan seems nice," she said, her voice soft and careful.
Right. I was supposed to be dating him. I was supposed to gush over him, be lovestruck. I tried to channel my feelings for Jace into my voice. "He's a good guy." It was the best I could do.
"So you've just been seeing each other a couple weeks? I mean, you weren't seeing him before ... you know ...?" My sister was asking me if I'd cheated on Zac.
I tried not to let my anger at the question show. It was a natural thing to be curious about.
I turned and we started up the stairs, and I almost wished I had cheated on him since I was going to pay for it either way. "No. I would have been faithful forever. Even though things ... " I thought about the distance between my husband and me even before he decided to betray me on the island with my chef. "Things had gotten harder," I said. My voice cracked.
"Jul," Tess said, her tone soft and understanding. "I'm so sorry."
God, I wished I could really talk to my sister. I needed a friend to confide in. "There's so much I want to tell you," I said instead.
"So tell me."
"I can't. The magazine people are here." It was as good an excuse as I could come up with, and as I pointed to the front parlor as we came up the stairs, it was a good distraction. Tess immediately spun up into stressy-Tessy. Chad stood right in front of us, grinning at me in a creepy way.
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