Fierce Love

by Danielle Stewart

  “What?” Marissa gasped. “That’s despicable. Your father didn’t know. He couldn’t have.”

  “I have no clue. I just started looking into it myself. I told Libby I forgave her. That it wasn’t her fault. She takes care of everyone in her family, and she did what she had to do. But now . . .” he trailed off as he recounted Libby’s bizarre accusations. “Now she thinks I knew all along. That I was playing her.”

  “But you weren’t?” Marissa said, mixing a question with a statement.

  “I wasn’t,” he asserted. “It was news to me. But someone clearly told her otherwise. It’s not like I don’t have a line of enemies, considering how many people recently walked away angry from West Oil. Now she’s saying if I come anywhere close to her she’ll expose everything. West Oil is at a tipping point. If this comes out, we won’t survive it.”

  “Who cares?” Marissa spat out. “That’s business. It’s not love. Do you love her?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, genuinely unsure. Love was something James had never felt himself in or out of. It wasn’t a room you could sit in and announce you were there. Love had been a moving target that he’d taken a few shots at but never quite hit the bullseye.

  “Figure out if you love her or not. Because if you do then the only thing that matters is making this right with her. The company will either survive or not. It will fail or thrive. But a woman you love is hurt. She thinks you hurt her. You have to make that right first.”

  “How?” he asked, astounded that he was asking her advice.

  “People think love is big gestures and that fuzzy feeling you get when you’re around someone. That’s infatuation. Do you know what love actually is?”

  “No,” he said in a quiet and anticipatory voice. Marissa had known love over the years. James had seen the marriage she had, the way they’d treated each other. If anyone had the answer it was her.

  “It’s trying. That’s all. Love is just trying over and over again. Every day. It’s effort. So that’s your answer. If you want to fix this, save whatever you have with her, just keep trying.”

  “That’s very vague,” he argued with a raised brow. “Can’t you give me more than that? This isn’t exactly my strong suit. She’s the first woman I’ve ever—”

  “I don’t know her,” Marissa shrugged. “You already have the answer. Just think about her. Think about what’s most important to her.”

  “I can’t ignore the liability to the business. I have to find a way to solve this problem first. There are four thousand employees counting on that. I have a responsibility to them too.”

  “What options do you have?” she asked with a frustrated huff. “I’m guessing she isn’t the only one this happened to.”

  “She’s not. I’ve found nine other deaths over the last fifteen years that were not reported properly. The families were not given the same terms as Libby, but they were in one way or another silenced to protect the company.”

  “Holy hell,” she said dropping her head in sadness. “You think your father knew?”

  “He had to,” James grunted, a burst of anger popping in his chest. His father had made this mess and left him with it.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized.

  “I have no idea how to fix this. When this comes out, and I’m sure it will, confidence in West Oil will plummet. We’ll be slammed with endless lawsuits from people coming out of the woodwork to capitalize on this weakness. The plans I’ve made, the changes I have in store, they’ll fall to shit. No one will want to touch this company with a ten-foot pole, let alone partner with us. It’ll be over.”

  “It’s been buried this long,” Marissa reminded him. He darted his eyes across her face as though he couldn’t believe what she said.

  “You really think that’s an option?” he asked. “I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know this happened?”

  “This is a critical point in the future of this company. You didn’t cause the problem, but you’re on the verge of suffering because of it. Next year, when the plans you’ve made have been put into place, when things are already secure, maybe the company could withstand the scandal.”

  “But by then, when it’s looked into, I’ll certainly be liable. People will know I was aware. If I out it right now, when I’ve just been made aware of it, my hands will be clean.”

  “This is oil, son,” she said with knowing glare. “Nobody has clean hands in oil.”

  He didn’t say another word, and she matched his silence. Standing with a sigh, she moved around his desk and kissed the crown of his head gently. Patting his shoulder, she gave him one more long look before stepping out of his office.

  His phone rang again. It was Mathew. James had been avoiding his calls since he came back. Not ready to admit why, he sent his call to voicemail again. If he were going to cover this up, for at least a period of time, then keeping Mathew in the dark was important. He owed it to him to keep him from being culpable in the cover-up.

  Was that what he was about to do? Cover it all up? The answer wasn’t clear in his mind yet, something which rarely happened to him. Often he was decisive to a fault, making final decisions before anyone could even weigh in. But now as he looked around his father’s office all he could do was curse the man who’d left him this mess. The company he’d been sure he could run, been determined to improve, had just become the weight that might suffocate him.

  CHAPTER 22

  The knock on Libby’s door might as well have been gunshots by the way it startled her. Jessica had gotten the message that she needed space, and James, well he was far easier to push away than she might have thought. It had been three days since she’d heard from either of them. She was grieving. Going through the grieving process: denial and bargaining, taking their turns in her tormented mind.

  But visitors weren’t expected any more than they were welcomed. Her house had become a cemetery for empty pints of ice cream and bottles of wine. It looked like she was stockpiling them with the intention of crafting something kitschy and unique, but she just hadn’t found the motivation to toss them out yet.

  “Who is it?” she croaked out, her voice almost forgetting it’s job since she’d hardly used it over the last few days.

  “It’s Corey,” a voice swam in from the other side of her door, and she hurried toward the peephole. Was this a wine-induced nightmare?

  “What do you want?” she asked, instinctively patting down her crazy hair.

  “Whoa, sorry. I’ve been texting you, but you went all radio silent. I was worried something might have happened with your mom. When I found out about her diagnosis it started me thinking about you. I know how important she is to you. I figured you must be a wreck.”

  Words wouldn’t come. She had a thousand things to say, but they all seemed to crash into each other like a pileup on the highway, ceasing up in her throat.

  “Are you there, Lib?” Corey asked quietly. She was instantly transported back to the time in her life when that shortened version of her name made her feel special and loved. Back before she knew love wasn’t supposed to hurt.

  “I’m here,” she finally coughed out. “I wasn’t expecting you. I’m just surprised.” She felt the tightness in her chest growing.

  “May I come in?” he asked gently. She assumed he was trying not to spook her; his charm could permeate even a closed door. She could picture exactly how he was standing: his hands jammed in his pockets and his head tipped sideways.

  She looked over her shoulder at her pigsty of a living room. Her clothes were speckled with splatters of wine. There was no way in hell she’d let him see her like this. “Why don’t we just meet for coffee,” she offered, feeling ridiculous speaking through the door.

  “Okay,” he sang out, excitement in his voice. “That coffee shop where I met you? Maybe it’s corny and nostalgic, but I think that would be nice.”

  “Sure,” she said, a pang of pain in her heart. She hadn’t stepped foot in there since they’d broken up, and she
knew returning would flood her with emotion. But she was aching with a deep hurt she wanted to stop. Corey was by no means the answer. But something in the back of her mind was vibrating. He’d been the one to snuff out that little light in her. All those years ago he put her on this path. Maybe it was a sign that he was here now. “I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

  When she heard his footsteps skip down her front stairs, she drew in an anxious breath. Pulling off her clothes, she stumbled toward her bedroom and checked her watch. She had no intention of being there on time. He could wait. He could sit, stew, and wonder. It wasn’t as though she had some maniacal plan to make him pay for all he’d done to her. But the anger, the pain brewing within her, needed to be channeled.

  Clicking her door closed behind her and heading for her car she let images of James and Corey blur together. They’d used different tactics, but hadn’t they both betrayed her? Hadn’t she closed her eyes and pretended everything would be wonderful even though there were plenty of reasons to believe otherwise? The entire ride over to the coffee shop was filled with what she would say to Corey, what he deserved to finally hear. She pulled open the heavy wooden door of the coffee house and saw him perched in the chair in the corner where he used to wait for her shift to end. His hair wasn’t shaggy anymore; it was clean cut and styled nicely. His suit was perfectly tailored to his now-wider shoulders, but one thing was the same. His smile still spread across his face and forced his cheeks up high, giving a tug at her heart. This was the man she’d thought she would marry. He was the one who’d taken her virginity and, when he hadn’t treated her terribly, had actually treated her wonderfully.

  “You look fantastic,” he said, his eyes circling her body. “I can’t believe we let so much time go by without seeing each other. It’s a shame.”

  “I think that’s pretty normal for people who break up,” she said coldly, hugging her purse tightly to her body to ward off a hug. But he didn’t make a move.

  “I hope you still drink the same thing; I ordered for you.” He slid a cup over to her and the smell of hazelnut rose toward her. She didn’t drink it anymore. Hadn’t in years, but the smell was like an old friend waving hello. Maybe she’d given it up when he gave her up. She couldn’t remember, but the association between the drink and the man seemed to be strong in her mind now.

  “Thanks,” she fished money out of her purse, but he waived her off.

  “I think I can buy you a coffee,” he teased. “Though I hear you’re doing pretty well at some oil company now. The rumors are flying.”

  “I work for West Oil,” she lied, unsure of why she wanted him to be impressed. “I’m the executive assistant to the CEO.”

  “That’s amazing,” he said with wide surprised eyes. “I always knew you were destined for something big. You deserve the best.”

  “Why are we here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, still holding her purse in her lap like a security blanket. “Why did you really come knocking on my door?”

  “Lib,” he said, his face crumpling slightly, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by stopping by. I didn’t mean to. Like I said, I heard from some of our old mutual friends about your mother and your job, and once you were in my head I couldn’t seem to get you out. Do you know what I mean?”

  She did, but she wasn’t thinking about Corey when she nodded her agreement. It was James who she couldn’t seem to get out of her head. “I don’t think you and I have much to talk about. We shouldn’t be sitting here like two old friends who just lost touch. And if you’re angling that maybe you and I—”

  “I’m not,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m actually seeing someone. I’m not here to make a pass at you or whatever.”

  “You’re seeing someone?” A million questions ran through her head. She’d expected he was here to try to win her back. She’d prepared to shoot him down a thousand ways. But hearing now that he was seeing someone threw her off guard. Had he grown up in the years since they’d been together? Had he changed? Was this other woman getting those best parts of Corey without having to suffer through the worst? A misguided pang of jealously filled her.

  “It’s not that serious.” He shrugged. “Maggie’s young. You know how it is.”

  “Young?” she asked accusingly. “How young?”

  “Young,” he replied with that smile.

  “Younger than me? Younger than I was when you and I started dating?”

  “No,” he asserted. “Of course not younger than you were. That would be illegal. She’s about to be twenty.”

  “You’re about to be thirty something,” Libby cut back smartly, aggravated that she still remembered his birthday. “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “We’ve known each other a year. She works at a diner next to my law office. She’s a really nice girl, but you’re right. I’m about to be thirty, and I need something more serious. More grown-up. A girl with a job like yours. Or at least that’s been running through my mind lately.”

  “Then maybe stop wasting the poor girl’s time,” she bit out. “Let her go be with someone her own age.”

  “I’m not keeping her prisoner,” he laughed again, but she didn’t. His words reminded her of the times she couldn’t leave the house for fear someone would notice the bruises and ask too many questions. Not every prisoner wears chains.

  “I’m leaving. There’s nothing for you and me to talk about.” She pushed her chair back, but before she could stand he touched her hand gently.

  “Libby, I’m so sorry for how we argued when we were together. I was stupid and young. We both burned a little hot but I wanted you to see that I’m different now. I’ve changed. For some reason it feels really important to me that you know that. Does that make sense?” A crease formed over his brows, and he looked at her desperately. She did know what he meant. It was partly why she agreed to meet him. They were linked together in this perverse way, and allowing him to see how much better she was felt important to her.

  “I can kind of understand what you mean,” she sighed. “I’ve changed too.” She knew that was a lie; not that much had changed in her life since he’d left her. She hadn’t sprouted wings of bravery. She hadn’t risen above all the pain. But he didn’t need to know that. There was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing that the pieces he’d crumbled her into hadn’t been put back together.

  “I can see,” he said, the smile returning to his face. “You obviously have changed if you’re killing it at that job of yours. That’s another reason I was hoping to see you.” Corey reached his hand across the table and dropped it off the side. With one extended index finger he tapped her knee. It was a move of his, something coy he did often when they first started dating. “I feel like I need to surround myself with people who are on the same trajectory as me. I want to really embrace this feeling of success and responsibility. You and I are in the same place in our lives at the same time. That seems pretty special, don’t you think?”

  She could spot it now—the way he ended those big sentences with questions, leaning in to hear the answer as though nothing in the room mattered but her. A skilled act, but that’s all it was. By comparison, James asked her questions, genuine ones, as she lay in his arms.

  “I think you should surround yourself with whatever people are good for you. That’s what I do. That’s why I have Jessica and all of my friends from work.” She knew the sound of her best friend’s name would make him flinch. And it certainly did.

  “I was wondering if you were still hanging around with Jessica. Is she well?” Corey’s eyes darted away. Jessica had been the only person to call Corey out on his bullshit. She’d gotten right in his face, threatened his life, and urged Libby again and again to leave him.

  “Like you care.” Libby laughed. “You two absolutely hated each other. I’m not sure I’ve ever known any two people who got along worse.”

  “She was in the right,” he said shamefacedly, and though she attempted to keep her expression s
traight it betrayed her. Her eyebrows rose high and her lashes blinked fast as she tried to process his words.

  “Really? That’s certainly something I never thought I’d hear you say.”

  “There’s a lot I’d say now that I never would have years ago. That’s what growing up looks like.”

  “Well,” she said, shaking her now empty coffee cup, “we’ve had our cup of coffee. You’ve made all your points. I’m going to go now.”

  “Sure,” he said, standing to excuse her as she got up. “But Lib, can I see you again?”

  “Why?” she asked, feeling a pang of resentment rather than vindication. Though she only had a vague notion of what she came here for, she knew it hadn’t happened. Lying to him about having friends and a high power job didn’t feel nearly as good as she thought it might.

  “Didn’t we have a lot of good times?” he asked in that quizzical way that demanded an answer. “When things were good, they were really good. I’m not saying we should get back together. I’m just suggesting we start spending time together again. Friends.” He tipped his head and stared deeply at her.

  She held the words in her throat. A storm was raging in her body that she couldn’t contain. Not everything she was feeling was Corey’s doing, but he was here in front of her. He was asking her a lofty question that required an answer she didn’t want to give. “I’m going to go,” she said, leaving the money he’d refused earlier on the table. She knew she hadn’t actually answered him, but that was his problem, not hers.

  CHAPTER 23

  James hadn’t made a decision. He hadn’t figured out whether or not to leave the buried secrets where they lie or throw himself on the sword now and work to fix it, even though it wouldn’t really be salvageable. It had been a week. A week since he’d found out West Oil had been playing dirty for years. A week since Libby had left. A week of the crushing weight of failure bearing down on him.