The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1)

by Ashton, Chloe D.

  Though he didn’t realize it, he gave an unconscious tug at his neckline. But, it did little to alleviate the suffocating feeling.

  “Father, I shouldn’t have bothered you at such a late hour,” he said with an embarrassed flush, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I’m sure that we can talk about renovations and such things tomorrow.”

  “Something tells me that you’re here for more than that,” Father Santos said encouragingly. Then, he eyed him with a thoughtful expression. “Often times, admitting that we have a need for understanding---that’s the first hurdle that we have to jump over. I sense that’s the place where you are now.”

  He stared at a fixed point past the priest’s head.

  Wasn’t he right?

  Hadn’t he come here seeking solace for the madness that he’d created on his own? Or was it to chase away the personal demons that’d haunted him since----

  Disturbed by the thought, he inhaled a shuddering breath.

  Father Santos grasped his shoulder in a reassuring grip. “Jarrod, it’s okay. No one is going to judge you here. That’s the first thing that I want you to understand. This is about the answers that you seek, and I fear if you don’t face these burdens, they’ll only create further unbalance. But, you must come on your own terms when you’re ready.”

  After brief hesitation, without a further word, he stepped into the church past the priest.

  When the door closed behind him, he nearly jumped.

  “Meghan, she’s sprouting like a timeless root, isn’t she?” Father Santos smiled, leading the way as he ambled down the narrow aisle. “But, it seems that she was quite exhausted from the ride, wasn’t she, or else she’d have been plying me with questions about the flowers that are springing up everywhere.”

  As they neared the front pew, the other clergyman smiled before making a quiet departure. Gulping hard, barely listening to the father’s lingering words, Jarrod watched as the other man departed, much to his relief. There was no point in everyone knowing that he was a miserable excuse for a human being, he frowned, taking a seat alongside the father at the middle pew.

  “Forgive me for saying this, but I sense that you’re troubled,” Father Santos began. “Whatever you tell me, I’ll hold it in full confidence.”

  With tear glistened eyes, he stared back at the priest.

  Did he actually have the strength to open up to someone else?

  Or would he lose the battle against himself?

  And that hollow ache…

  At this very moment, wasn’t it drumming through his tortured soul?

  “Jarrod, you’re safe here. No one is going to judge you. Talk to me.”

  Finally, he found the courage to take the lead.

  “Why do I destroy everything that gets close to me?” he asked roughly, looking away from the priest, and to his shame, a single tear slipped free. With a trembling hand, he wiped it away. “I have no right to anything good in my life. Meghan, my precious baby girl, she deserves better than me, a better father. What kind of values could I possibly instill in her, especially since I apparently have none at all?”

  “How do you see yourself, Jarrod?” Father Santos asked, eyeing him with steady patience. “Self-impressions can often times be stumbling blocks to the problems that we’re attempting to solve. Again, how do you see yourself?”

  “I’m ashamed of what I am, what I’ve become. I’m nothing more than a walking disaster,” he said, defeated, staring fixedly at the floor. “But, it’s who I am, what I am, and if my focus strays from the situation that I’m facing….” His words cut off as he struggled to find the words. “That part of me---I desperately need it. It’s the only thing that reminds me that I’m still alive.”

  “What part is that, Jarrod?”

  “This rage---this burning need for vengeance,” he bit out, feeling the stir of anger, even within the safe confines of the church. “If I don’t let it bleed out, I’ll hemorrhage from its nastiness.”

  “And while knowing that this rage is so volatile that it’s upsetting your very nature, you hold onto it. Why?”

  His anguished gaze fell on the priest. “It’s the only thing that I have left. Without it, I just have this hollowness,” he whispered, tearing his eyes away, and stared unseeingly across the room. “Even in the darkness hours, when the night sleeps, I have no solace. The only small light burning within my soul is the love that I have for my daughter.”

  And the love that he had for Olivia----

  Before it could set seed, he cut the tortured thought off.

  “Doesn’t that alone prove that you’re not a monster, a self-imposed label that you’ve placed upon yourself?”

  “Then, why can’t I stop inflicting pain upon innocent people?” he raged, not realizing that he was shouting, and he couldn’t see past the blinding anger. “Those that have no real position in this struggle that I’m having with myself?”

  “And how are you inflicting pain?” Father Santos inquired, listening close with a thoughtful expression. “In what ways are you doing that?”

  Again, the guilt smothered his conscience.

  “Trust me, father, I’ve been involved in acts of treachery that you won’t believe.” His laughter was cold and detached. “The kind of man that I am---countless sermons are delivered against my kind in pulpits from coast to coast. I’m cold, ruthless, unfeeling, and I don’t let anything stand in my way, not when it comes to getting what I want.” Leaning forward, he tented his hands together, and his knees touched the back of the pew within the confined space. “Up until recently, I’d given up on myself, but, after the longest time, I’m finally seeing the threads of humanity.”

  “Have you delved deeper into your conscience?” Father Santos questioned. “Taken a close introspection into what’s bringing about this latest epiphany?”

  “I don’t want to hurt her,” he rasped, looking away with tear-glazed eyes. “She doesn’t deserve what I’m doing to her.”

  “There’s a woman involved?” Father Santos questioned, keeping his expression blank. “Is she responsible for this sudden enlightenment or this shift in attitude that you have towards yourself?”

  “I suppose you could say that,” Jarrod hedged uncomfortably. “She makes me feel that I can be whole again. With her, I believe that I can go on---”

  Was he truly ready to explore further thoughts about her, those that he’d cut off and was unwilling to face---the forbidden feelings that hadn’t stirred within him in years?

  “I can see that you care for this woman very deeply, and maybe love her in fact. That scares you, doesn’t it?”

  There it was, he thought, staring blindly ahead.

  The aching truth---

  Living and breathing within the walls of the church. But, rather than acknowledging or denying the priest’s words, he said nothing.

  “And you say that you don’t want to hurt her, and I admit that those words are troubling,” the priest treaded cautiously. “In what ways do you fear that you’ll do so?”

  “Relax father,” he snapped. “While I’m many things, I’d never physically or sexually abuse a woman.”

  “And certainly, I’m not implying that you would, nor had the thought even crossed my mind,” Father Santos soothed. “I’m just trying to better understand the situation at hand, and judging by your reaction, it’s rather volatile.”

  He sat in muted silence, fixating his gaze at a point past the pulpit, and within moments, he was able to make out an angelic figure within the stained glass. “I’m not proud of what I’m doing, but in the beginning, I thought that I had little choice.”

  “Choices are the only things that guide us, the wrong and right ones, unfortunately,” Father Santos said with a sad smile, regarding him thoughtfully. “And you do have a choice. The question is this. Can you live with the one that you’ve made? Are you truly willing to accept the consequences that follow?”

  And those last words plagued him, moments later, as he closed the do
or behind him and stepped within the safe confines of the cabin.

  Could he live with his disastrous actions?

  “Where have you been? I was worried.”

  Startled, he jumped, only to find Olivia standing a few feet away from him.

  The faint light from the night lamp glowed in the room, and it surrounded her small form like an aura. A concerned look pinched her face, and he heard her breathless gasp as she stared at him. Like an undercurrent, their intense physical attraction flared. Only a fool wouldn’t notice their reaction to another, he mulled, watching as she wrapped her arms around her body defensively. Subconsciously, perhaps she sensed that he was a danger to her very being.

  But, still, he sensed her fascination with him.

  Wasn’t it as potent as his?

  Shaken by the unsettling thought, he turned away from her abruptly. “What do you want? I told you not to wait up.”

  “Do not order me about like a child,” she replied, having recovered herself, and followed behind him. “You want to know what your problem is?”

  “And what’s that?” Jarrod asked, whirling around to face her, struggling to hold onto his anger, and found that he couldn’t.

  “You are so accustomed to getting your way, and how dare anyone question your motives, right?” she asked, stopping before him. A sad smile played along her beautiful features. “Please, can’t we call a truce, at least for the rest of the night?”

  Sighing, he nodded before turning away. “You look tired,” he muttered, trailing to the window and stared out. Even through the glass pane, the night silence echoed, and just how many times had he embraced a new day without sleep, he thought, returning his attention back to her. “Why don’t you go ahead and turn in? The ride back will be as taxing as it was today.”

  “I’m not tired,” she said, joining him at the window. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “What?” he asked, captivated by the moonlight playing across her face.

  Yes, she was, he mulled, distracted.

  “The beautiful night sky.” Again, her smile was sad. “Since I awakened from my coma, I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve just stood by my window and stared out. Sometimes, the night seemed just as lost as I was.” Her gaze met his. “Have you ever felt that way?”

  Their eyes clung amidst her question.

  A challenge played within her depths.

  Was he bold enough to accept it?

  “Too many,” Jarrod said roughly, surprising them both. Breaking their deep connection, he looked away, and this time, his eyes tracked a pattern in the sky. He braced an unsteady hand against the window sill. “But, when I look to the heavens, I see vast opportunities and new chances. Its infinite beauty is a marvel in itself.”

  Yet, wasn’t he afraid of it?

  “What’s your sign?” she smiled, glancing up at him. “Scorpio, I’m willing to bet.”

  He gave a quick laugh. “How’d you guess?”

  As their gazes clashed again, he was sucker punched.

  “I mean, you possess all the qualities,” she went on, staring up at him. “Bold, confident, and, you’re always in control. But, behind the façade, you carry many secrets, those that you’re not willing to share with anyone.” Though it was hardly noticeable, her hand shook as she pushed the wayward tresses from her face. “And if anything, you love a challenge.”

  “Wow, remind me to look you up the next time I need a fortune reading,” he quipped, arching a brow, and then shrugged. “I really don’t give that much credence to the zodiac signs. They’re a complete and utter joke.”

  “Maybe, who knows,” she shrugged. “But, all the things that I’ve said, they describe you perfectly.” Turning away from him, she looked out the window again. “As for me---”

  “Fiery, passionate, and strong-willed,” Jarrod retorted, staring out. “The sign of the Aries, and you always fight for what you want.”

  For a brief moment, they were both rendered silent, and in mutual accordance, they watched as the night evolved. But, somehow, within that quiet, they connected in ways that were indescribable.

  “What time is it?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “Twelve past midnight,” she murmured sleepily, barely able to suppress a yawn.

  “Go to bed,” Jarrod chastised with a frown. “Please don’t think that you have to stay awake on my account.”

  Staring up at him, she hesitated. “You coming?”

  “Think I’ll hang out here for a while longer,” he said, passing a half-smile. “Now go.”

  “Okay,” Olivia said, but stayed where she was, and then looked at him shyly. “Can we talk more tomorrow?”

  “If that’s what you want,” he said huskily, staring down at her.

  As she stepped closer to him, he tensed, fighting against their dangerous attraction. But, her words cut him to the very core. “I think it’s what we both want,” she whispered, reaching out to caress his face gently. “When you accept that, we’ll begin making our way back to each other. Goodnight.”

  Mesmerized, he watched as she sauntered across the room.

  When she veered from sight, he released a pent-up breath.

  Someway, somehow, she’d broken the barriers to his hardened heart.

  ***

  “But, Daddy, you promised,” Meghan whined, pouting, and folded her arms across her chest, the following morning. “You said that Maria and I could have a sleep over. You promised Daddy!”

  Frowning, cradling the glass of orange juice, Jarrod sighed. “Meghan, I did promise that you could, but we haven’t decided when. Besides, I have to talk with Javier and find out the best time for a sleepover. There’ll be no more discussion on the matter. Now, eat your breakfast.”

  “No!” Meghan said defiantly. “I’m not eating anything!”

  Taking a bite from the crunchy toast, Olivia watched the exchange. One thing was apparent. They were both stubborn as all out, she mulled, quickly deciding to intervene and diffuse the situation. “Surely you’re not saying ‘no’ to all your favorites?” she murmured, bracing her elbows on the table. “I mean, there’s blackberry jam, buttery toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Don’t know about you, but I simply can’t turn away from so many goodies.”

  Tiny face pinching in a deep frown, the child eyed the scrambled eggs. “They do look kinda yummy.”

  “Umm, and they taste good, too,” she said, eating a mouthful of the eggs. “Meghan, you simply have to try some.” Using the spoon on the platter, she scooped some of the eggs before depositing them on Meghan’s plate. “Here, try some.”

  Shooting her father a side glance, Meghan twirled the fork around on her plate. Then, licking her lips, she scooped up a heap before shoving them into her mouth. “You’re right, Livvy! They’re so good.”

  “Why stop there?” she chided. “I mean your father did make sure that Rosa made this a special morning for you by making all your favorites. Doesn’t he need a kind thank you for that?”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Meghan said, sullen, staring down at the table. “I’m sorry that I was mean to you.”

  Tensing, she stared at Jarrod.

  And she thought she was tense, she mulled, taking in his hardened features. Instead of watching Meghan, he was watching her, and at any given moment, he’d probably explode.

  Keeping his gaze on her, he pushed away from the table and stood. Then, bending over, he pressed a gentle kiss atop Meghan’s head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Poppet. Finish your breakfast. When I come back from my walk, we’ll talk about that sleep over, okay?”

  “Daddy, you’re the best!” Meghan squealed, hugging his waist.

  Again, watching him, she saw just how affected he was by the child’s embrace.

  “Not only that. We’ll drop by the market as well. Remember that toffee candy that we had the last time that we were here?” he said, smiling down at his daughter. “This time, we’re going to get lots of it.”

  Giggling, Megha
n covered her face with her hands. “Daddy, don’t be silly. We can’t have too many sweets or we’ll have cavities.”

  “And we can’t have that, can we?” he teased, tugging on her pigtail playfully. “See you in a bit, Poppet.”

  “Aren’t you gonna say something to Livvy, Daddy?” the child asked, confused. “You haven’t said anything to her. You mad at her?”

  When his intense gaze fell on her, she nearly shrunk down in the chair, and as he addressed her, his words were clipped. “Olivia, I’ll see you when I return.”

  A short moment later, when the door closed behind him, she fell silent.

  He hadn’t denied being upset with her.

  “Please don’t be mad at Daddy,” Meghan said, looking at her. “When he leaves like that he’s really sad, that’s all.”

  Stunned, she absorbed the child’s words.

  How could one so young be so insightful?

  “Why do you say that, Meghan?” she prodded, shoving her plate away, having lost her appetite completely.

  “When he thinks about my mommy, he doesn’t know what to do,” the child said innocently, her face sad. “I still don’t think he knows what to do.”

  A stab of jealousy hit her.

  Was it possible that Jarrod was still in love with Meghan’s mother?

  The guilt slammed into her.

  How could she be so selfish?

  Of course, he’d still care for her, she thought, her face flaming red.

  And that only made the situation worse.

  How could she possibly compete with a dead woman?

  “Livvy, you’re acting kind of funny,” Meghan said with rounded eyes. “Grownups always act funny. Glad I’m just a kid.”

  “Me too, sweetheart,” she sighed. “Me too.”

  ***

  An hour later, Jarrod still hadn’t returned.

  After growing increasingly concerned, she’d left Meghan behind with Rosa. By now, the two of them were probably working on the next batch of oatmeal raisin cookies.

  But, exactly where would he be, she mulled, shielding her eyes from the morning sun with her hand, already minutes away from the cabin. Though it was still fairly early, 9:34 am to be exact, the humidity was already rising amidst the ocean air, and the haltered sundress was already beginning to plaster against her skin. Overhead, the blue skies held a thin layer of clouds while the sun stole center stage.