For a second, I’m speechless. I think of the mind games Bryce likes to play. But they aren’t that… serious… are they? My mind flashes to how worthless and stupid I felt after some of his initial stunts. He’s let up and I guess it all doesn’t seem that bad in retrospect. I’m not sure why I feel that way. Because I came those few times? A wash of deep shame hits me at the memories. That was almost the worst part, hating how I felt like he could play my own body against me. What if he had kept it up, a long campaign of those kinds of games on a person?
My voice trembles a little when I ask. “What do you mean, break people?”
Jackson’s mouth turns down in disgust and if I’m not mistaken, with a touch of shame. “I don’t want to go into details. I don’t even want those things in your head. But I worry about you every day that you work there. I want you to quit without even giving two weeks’ notice. Once you’ve decided, don’t go back in at all, in fact. Write out your written notice and I’ll get it to him.”
I scoff out loud. Suddenly all of this seems like overreaction. Jackson’s overprotective. It’s sweet but unnecessary. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” As I say it, I realize how much I mean it. I’m done being the weak little girl who lets the big bad men decide her fate. After my realizations about what I let David do to me, and that right after escaping Mr. McIntyre… I shake my head. I’m done with being that girl. It’s time to take the reins and be in control of my own life.
It’s what I like about being around Jackson. He makes me feel stronger—but in my own right, not because I’m using him as a crutch. And that’s the way I want to keep it.
The lines around Jackson’s mouth tighten and he’s also shaking his head. “Don’t pretend anything about your position there has been professional. He’ll just treat you like he does all his—”
He cuts himself off, but the word left unsaid rings in the silence between us.
Whores.
Bryce’ll treat me like he does all his whores, was what Jackson meant to say.
The blow is slow to hit me because I’m so shocked. I know how other people have seen me all my life. Just the blonde with the big tits—obviously a slut. But Jackson? Oh my God, I’m such a stupid girl.
I stare back at him, bound and determined not to let him know how he just sliced and diced my insides up. Which makes me fucking furious. Because here I just was, telling myself how I’d never let any man have any more control over me. Jackson was the exception because he made me feel stronger in myself. But it was a crock of shit. He’s never seen me as strong at all. I’ve only been a victim to him. And believing in him has only given him power to hurt me. After everything, I’m still so stupid.
Well, not any more.
I smile, hating that my façade feels brittle like it could crack and show him my vulnerable underbelly.
“It’s good to know how you really feel.” I grab my bag and start to head out of the restaurant. I work to get more control over my emotions as I walk, but Jackson puts a hand on my elbow to stop me.
“Wait, Calliope, that’s not what I meant.”
I stop, but only to glare at the offending hand holding me back. He better not think manhandling me is a good move right now.
He curses and lets go of me.
Good move, pal.
I push through the door and out into the sunny afternoon. Jackson follows, but he doesn’t try to physically restrain me again.
“Just hear me out.”
I keep walking. I’ve gotten ahold of myself, at least a little. Anger works miracles. I grab it like a lifeline.
“God, you are such a frustrating woman!” Out of my periphery, I see him run a hand through his hair. It’s a strange sight to see from a man who’s usually so unruffled. Part of me wants to crack, to give him a chance to explain…
But then I remember he basically thinks of me as Bryce’s whore. It’s how he’ll always see me. I can’t even blame him.
It is, after all, true.
I mean, thank God our relationship or whatever the hell is between us never really got very far… God, really, it was just one amazing weekend together… But in such a short time we connected so deeply. My stomach sinks and the Thai noodles feel like they might come back up. I fight to hold onto anger, but it’s quickly sinking into something much less steady.
Regret.
Because I wish I could have a redo of the past two-and-a-half months. I wish I had met Jackson first. But then, if Jackson hadn’t first seen me with Bryce, would he have even been interested in me?
It will always be between us. He’ll never be able to lose his first introductory image of me as his rival’s pitiable whore. I’ll never be able to trust his motives for wanting to be with me. At one time in my life, it might have even been enough—just the idea that he wanted to save me. Because I genuinely don’t believe Jackson wants me just in order to punish Bryce.
But does Jackson have a savior complex? Hell yes, he does. I glance over at him, keeping pace beside me with a determined expression on his face even though he’s not saying anything.
He must take my look as encouragement, though, because he starts pleading his case again. “Callie, God, I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it that way. You know I don’t look at you like that—”
I have to avert my gaze immediately, it hurts so much. He keeps talking but I tune him out. He just saw me as this wounded thing all along. He wanted to fix me. No, it wasn’t about rivalry for him.
But what about… my step stutters as a thought hits me suddenly…but what about on Bryce’s side?
Oh my God, was that what Bryce was doing all along? Dangling the one thing he knew his old adversary couldn’t resist—a vulnerable woman who Jackson would see as needing rescuing?
But why? What does Bryce get out of the whole thing? Did he really want to collaborate with Jackson’s company and think this was the only way to get Jackson on the hook? That seems far-fetched and way too convoluted a way to get a business deal accomplished. Besides, Jackson’s not taking the contract anyway. So maybe—
I shake my head. God, what do I think I am now, a conspiracy theorist? All of this is ridiculous. It’s far more likely that everything is what it appears to be on the surface, and I’m just stuck in a shit situation.
There is no grander plan. I just happened to fall for a guy who will always associate me as the girl who was hired because she’d let her boss diddle her under the table during a business lunch. I cringe but keep from ducking my head in shame. No more of that. I’m owning my past mistakes and moving on from here.
I was just foolish to ever think our Cinderella story could have a happy ending.
I walk faster. I need to get home.
To hold my baby.
To focus on what’s really important.
I’ve been heading toward the closest light rail station but stop when Jackson physically places his body right in front of me.
“I feel like you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying.” He sounds exasperated. He’s right, of course. He’s been talking, but I’ve been zoned out, my only focus on getting home. Away from him.
When I try to move around him, he again steps in front of me to block my path. Apparently he learned his lesson at the restaurant and doesn’t touch me at all. But this new tactic of not letting me pass is just as annoying, maybe even more so because I know he’s doing it in a way that’s attempting to respect my boundaries.
“Let me drive you home, at least. My car’s right there.” He nods behind him to where his town car idles on the side of the busy street. God, has the driver been following us as I took off out of the restaurant? “You’ll get home much faster than taking public transit.”
I waver. I would get home faster, but I’m not sure I can spend any more time in Jackson’s presence. Smelling his aftershave. Why does he have to smell so good?
I know my reasoning is solid. That we can’t be together. It’ll never work
after the way we began.
“Please, Calliope. At least give me the peace of mind that I got you home safely.” His voice is soft.
Gah! I can’t decide if it rankles that Jackson thinks it’s his job to take care of me or if it’s terribly sweet. I’ve been the one shouldering all the responsibility for taking care of myself and Charlie for so long. The strong and self-reliant thing to do would be to say screw him and take public transit. Right? Or maybe there’s a difference between stubborn pride and self-reliance.
I sigh. Lord, I’m so tired. I look at his town car.
Screw it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I’m still working through the thorny path of making my own way in the world.
After another prolonged moment, I finally nod my head. Jackson’s face lights up, but when he reaches over to take my hand, I ignore him and slide into the car through the door the Jackson has open. Jackson follows without a comment.
But then I want to cry. Because even though I shunned his hand, even though my head knows this would never work, there’s still that part of me… The part that doesn’t care that it’s all wrong. The part that wants me to close the gap between our bodies and throw myself into his arms. The part that remembers just how good it felt in the moments after we made love.
The first two times last Saturday we just fucked, no doubt about it. But the third time, the third time it was gentle and slow. The climax was a long time in coming, but when it did, it shook me down to my bones. Jackson held my face in both his hands, eyes locked on mine as he came with me. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and I could have sworn he stole part of mine in that moment. Part of my soul slipped into him and part of his into me.
But now, here we are, worlds apart even as we sit side by side on the sleek black leather interior of his town car. And God, as if our selected modes of transportation don’t symbolize just how wide the gap is between us. The captain of industry who has a driver and the lowly single mother who takes public transit, struggling to get on by any means necessary. Worlds apart we started, and so we’ll end.
* * *
We’re quiet on the ride home. I’m glad he doesn’t try to fill the time going on about the job or our relationship or any of it. Truth be told, I’m still considering the job. He’s said from the beginning it’s not contingent on the personal relationship. Maybe it’s stupid after everything I’ve seen in my life, but I actually believe him. It’s got to be better than working for Bryce, where I know the job description includes sexual favors. It’s certain to become unpleasant again as soon as it’s clear the deal with CubeThink isn’t going through.
But when and if the time comes to resign, I won’t rely on Jackson to clear any hurdles for me. I made my own bed and while I don’t want to lie in it, I’ll be the one to get myself out of the situation. One foot in front of the other, one disaster at a time. My life’s mantra, right?
When we pull up to my block, I’m already sliding away from Jackson. I don’t want him to think that just because I rode with him, there’s going to be a kiss goodbye or anything. I have my eyes averted firmly out the window, so I immediately notice Shannon running toward the car as soon as we pull up.
I shove my car door open, heart suddenly beating double time. “What’s wrong?”
“How could you?” she shouts, almost a wail.
“What?” I catch her as she stumbles toward me, hiccupping and eyes red from crying. She starts to swing wildly at me and I put up my arms in defense. She smacks my shoulder and aims again for my head. Before she makes contact, Jackson is out of the car and has her arms restrained behind her back. She bucks against him like a wild-woman.
“How could you?” she screams again. “They took Charlie because of you!”
“What are you talking about?” I’m shaking all over. No, what she’s saying can’t be right. There’s been some horrible misunderstanding.
“I called you,” she accuses, standing on her own now. “I called you, over and over. Where were you?” Then she seems to collapse in herself. She stops struggling against Jackson. He loosens his grip and then lets her go. She sinks to the ground, crying. “They took our Charlie.”
“Who?” I demand, leaning over so I’m in her face. I grab her shoulders and all but shake her. I don’t know what the hell happened to my phone or why I didn’t get her calls, but none of this makes any sense. “Tell me what happened. You have to tell me what happened so I can fix it. Who took Charlie?”
Shannon gulps in a deep breath. “They all showed up at once. David and his wife, and they had police with them and a courier from the judge. It was the envelope with the judge’s decision.” She seems to get another wave of strength as she glares daggers at me. “They awarded him full custody because you failed the drug test.”
“What?” I look at Jackson in bewilderment. But then I see it in his face, too. He’s wondering. Questioning what he thinks he knows about me.
“You think I did it, too,” I whisper. It slices deep. So he not only thinks I’m a whore, but a druggie whore.
I back away from both of them. Of course the judge didn’t even second-guess the results. Why would he? I’m the trash mother who landed in jail while she was pregnant. Who never could manage to get her life together. Who whored herself out to get enough money for a family court attorney, and it turns out not even that was enough. Because a lab screwed up some results somewhere. How do I even fight that?
God, I guess I call my lawyer? And then we start thinking of appeals? But how long will that take? And in the meantime… I look toward my apartment.
That’s when it hits me.
Really hits me.
Charlie is gone.
Taken.
I no longer have any rights to see my own son. A sob chokes its way out of me.
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God.
This can’t be happening. Anything but this. Everything I’ve done has been to keep Charlie and me together and now…
I drop down into the grass beside Shannon. I want to scream as loud as I’ve ever screamed in my life. And then lay down and die.
“Callie. Callie. Calliope!”
I look up dully into Jackson’s eyes, finally realizing he’s holding me in a tight embrace. “Baby, we’ll do whatever it takes to bring him home. I have lawyers from the best law firm in the city on retainer. We’ll make them earn their keep. They’ll retest the sample to prove it was a false positive.”
My eyes flash up to his. Does that mean he actually believes I’m innocent?
He kisses my forehead hard. He must see it in my eyes because he whispers, “I’m sorry I doubted you for even a second, baby. There are a hundred things that can cause a false positive. Cold medicine. Other over the counter drugs. Lab error. Even things you ate. We’ll appeal this and get it thrown out. We’ll have your son back in no time.”
With every confident word he speaks, the numbness starts to drop away. He talks like we can actually fight this thing. “How long do appeals take?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I don’t know, but let’s go call my lawyer and find out.” He pulls back, but only far enough to take my hand in his and help me to my feet. He’s already got his phone out and is dialing.
Shannon’s been watching the whole exchange with fear and confusion. She might not have faith in me like Jackson does—the reminder that he does sends a wave of warmth over me in spite of the horror of the last five minutes—but I’ll prove to her I’m a good mother. Goddammit, I’ll prove it to them all, no matter how much fight it takes. Charlie belongs with me. I might fuck up a lot in this life, but he’s the one thing I’m determined to get right.
“Come on,” I tell her, nodding toward the apartment. My voice and legs are still shaky, but I swallow and try to get hold of myself. Seeing Jackson jump immediately into action is helping me get my bearings back.
“Sandoval,” Jackson snaps into the phone, “I need an emergency consultancy in a custody hearing situation
. Get your best people together. We’ll meet in your offices in one hour.”
My hand reflexively squeezes Jackson’s. He looks over at me and gives me an encouraging nod while he listens to what the person on the other end of the phone says.
My heart cinches in my chest. What if I was wrong earlier? What if Jackson and I can look past how we first met? I think about a life of this—of partnership, bearing one another’s burdens, not being alone when the hard stuff hits…
Jackson finishes the call and drops the phone back into his suit coat pocket. He must see something on my face, because he pauses right before the door to my apartment and asks, “What?” His face softens in concern. “Babe, we’ll get Charlie back home to you. I promise.” He reaches up and caresses my cheek with one of his mammoth hands.
I turn into the touch, breathe him in, and nod. Then, still not able to make sense of everything I’m feeling, I bury my face in his chest and hug him tight. After a moment, his arms wrap around me in return.
“It’s going to be okay, babe,” he says, rubbing my back. “It’s all going to be okay.” I can only tighten my hold.
I want to believe him.
God knows I do. And being here with Jackson Vale’s arms so strong around me, maybe I can. Maybe I can.
Chapter Seventeen
My hands tremble as I take the elevator up to Gentry Tech to give notice the following Monday.
The weekend was hell without Charlie, but Jackson and I met with his lawyers and they put in the paperwork right when the courthouse opened this morning to retest the sample taken by an independent lab.
Jackson continued being wonderful. He didn’t try to kiss or make any moves on me. He was just… there for me in a way no one’s been ever before.
I don’t know what that means. Maybe it is possible to look past how we started and consider the idea of Jackson and me exploring a future together? I’m still too mixed up about everything with Charlie to think too much about it. Right now, he’s just being an amazing friend, and that’s enough. No matter what, though, I won’t be giving up my newfound determination to take control of my life. No more letting men assume they can decide my fate.
Cut So Deep: Break So Soft Duet Page 24