by K. L. Kreig
I slide my hands into my pockets and stalk over to the windows, the urge to draw blood greater than it was a few seconds ago. The sun sits low in the sky, a blaze of bright orange. It’s now the middle of October. The election is a mere three weeks away.
Three weeks.
Is that all the time I have left with Willow? More? Less?
When does my life become barren and cold? Not worth living?
It should be today but I can’t force myself to tell Willow any more than I could Annabelle. Putting this off will bite me in the ass. Mark my words.
Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I squeeze my eyes shut. A massive headache is bearing down on me and I haven’t been able to take a full breath in days that isn’t laced with despair except when Willow is wrapped around me.
“What did he say?” I finally ask. My voice feels scratchy and sounds like shattered glass pieces scraping against each other. These are answers we need and I’ve been trying to prepare myself for the worst. I haven’t been ready to hear what my sister’s future will look like. I already know what mine does.
“Well, hypothetically”—I hear Noah shift to stand—“if the victim was trying to prevent a suicide and an accident ensued as a result that claimed the victim’s life, then the most the witnesses could be charged with is hindering an investigation. An accident is an accident, according to Bull. Regardless of past priors or incidents.”
Relief is as sharp as a lightning strike but it’s short-lived. It’s only one worry allayed. One hurdle overcome. The rest seem insurmountable.
My best friend sidles up beside me. Instead of enjoying our favorite Wednesday afternoon show, though, he turns his back to them and sets his butt against the window ledge, facing me. “It’s a slap on the hand, Merc. Charges likely won’t be filed. Bull said if it was his case he wouldn’t even bring it to the ADA.”
I hate how his words are as clinical as if we’re discussing a plot on CSI instead of Willow’s father and my sister, who was so fucked up she wanted to take her own life.
Jesus. H. Christ. If my father thought the picture in the paper was a shit show he has no idea what’s about to hit him.
My eyes cut to Noah. “I’m pissed you did it without consulting me first, but…thank you. It’s a relief to know at least she won’t go to prison.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Not doing anything isn’t an option, though. It’s just…the timing could not be worse for my family.”
“I know.”
“This leaks to the press, my father is finished. Harrington will have a field day dragging us all through the mud.”
“That he will.”
I take up position next to him, leaning against the cool windows. We both stay quiet for a while before I share the one golden nugget I’ve found throughout this entire disaster. It’s the only thing that’s made me smile since I left Willow alone, sleeping in bed this morning.
“CJ had himself covered with a patent.”
Noah doesn’t say anything. When I look at him, though, he has this goofy smile on his face and at that moment I could not be more grateful for my friend. He cares about Willow and even though I’ll likely lose her, I know I can count on him to keep tabs on her so I can feed this unhealthy obsession I’ll always have for her.
He eyes me from the side. “Her wealth will put yours to shame,” he says with a giant grin on his face.
True. When the FDA grants their final approval for Zytin to be manufactured, her mother, and Willow by extension will be wealthy beyond their wildest imaginations. Granted, it may be up to a year yet, but the financial security I’d wanted to make sure she had was always there. She just didn’t know it.
I half chuckle, rubbing my hand through my hair. “That it will. She obviously has no clue.”
“I imagine something like that is easy to overlook if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“I imagine.”
“Everything else on the up and up?”
I nod. I did find one other thing that needs to be rectified but it’s something I want to keep to myself for now. It will take a bit more digging and I have no idea the steps I’ll need to take to make it happen.
“I’m going to lose her.” My voice is thick, strained.
“Have more faith in her than that, Merc. Have more faith that the infrastructure you’ve built can sustain this goddamn earthquake that’s about to hit. Because if you don’t, how can she?”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder. I went to a lot of work to get you two together.” He clasps my shoulder. “It was an unimaginable, unintentional, unthinkable accident, but her father did a brave thing saving your sister. I think once the shock wears off she’ll see it the same way I do.”
He pushes himself straight and strides toward the door. Hand on the knob, he glances back. “Say, think you can sweet talk Sierra into attending your dad’s fundraiser with me Saturday night?”
After I get over the surprise of his request, I begin to laugh. Really, really laugh. I laugh until tears gather at the corners of my eyes. It feels good letting the pent up out.
“Some inside joke I’m unaware of?”
At the seriousness of Noah’s face, I laugh even harder.
“What the hell? Did she hate me that much? Did she say something to Willow?” Now his arms are crossed and his face holds a frown.
I howl.
“Forget it.”
He spins and stomps out of my office, giving me a middle-finger salute, and somehow I feel lighter. Stronger. And a little more optimistic that maybe, just maybe I can contain the chaos when it implodes because I know I won’t have to handle it alone.
Noah is right. It was an unimaginable, horrific accident. But an accident it was. I only hope both Annabelle and Willow can see it that way and we can all move forward together, a happily ever after secured with everyone I love beside me.
Chapter 21
“Are you sure everything is okay?” I ask him again as the chauffeur-driven car comes to a slow stop. He’s been acting strange all week. In fact, he’s been acting weird for weeks now. We’ve spent the last three nights at his place, and I’ve woken two out of the three to find him sitting in a tobacco-colored Chesterfield chair watching me sleep.
Picking up our entwined hands he brings them to his lips. They’re warm and soft when they touch my palm. It tingles. “It is as long as you’re by my side,” he tells me with a quiet reverence that makes me breathe a tad easier. Bringing his free hand around the back of my head he draws me close, placing a light close-mouthed kiss to my red-stained lips.
“You’re going to get my lipstick all over you,” I tease.
He growls and cups my chin. “I think that color would look splendid smearing my cock tonight, don’t you?”
I go instantly wet. “I’m not really sure it’s your shade.”
“It’s my shade, beautiful. Trust me.” I laugh when my eyes drop to the nice big bulge in his sleek gray suit pants.
I want nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and make love to him all night long, but we’re already running late from the against-the-wall orgasm he gave me before we left. “Your father’s probably waiting for us.”
“Probably. I love you, Willow Blackwell,” he whispers, lips grazing mine.
“I love you more, Shaw Mercer,” I tell him.
“I doubt that, Goldilocks.”
With one last lingering look that says so much but leaves me with this gnawing feeling at the same time, we exit the car. He wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me close as we start up the sidewalk to the Four Seasons where this all started.
It’s surreal. One of the worst nights of my life turned out to be one of the best. If I’d never met Noah that night, I know I wouldn’t be with Shaw now.
Minutes later we’re striding into the grand ballroom where I had my “date” with Paul Graber. I shudder. I hope Shaw never fin
ds out about that. I’m sure I’d have gotten an earful by now if he knew.
“Shaw!”
His name is yelled the second we step into the oversized space. His father, who is waving us down, is about ten paces away, standing next to a very elegant Adelle on one side, Reid flanking him on the other. In front of them are a couple of well-dressed older gentlemen, one of them who looks to be… “Is that the governor?” I ask Shaw in a whisper.
“None other.” He beams. He’s so incredibly proud of his father his entire being radiates.
Shaw twines our fingers and makes quick work around the throng of people waiting in line to shake Preston Mercer’s hand until he steps to his father’s side. He pats him on the back twice with his free hand. “Hey, sorry we’re late. I got buried in something important.”
He says this with sheer deadpan as he pretends to rub an itch on his nose but glances at me with this transparent smirk tilting his lips. I feel warmth crawl from my chest up my neck and into my cheeks as I fight to bite back a smile. He was buried, all right. Three fingers deep. The same ones he discreetly smells.
Good God almighty, that wicked man.
“You all right, dear? You look flush,” Adelle’s sweet voice sings.
“Oh, yes, fine.” My eyes are filled with reprimand as they land briefly on Shaw, who doesn’t care in the least. That smirk has now turned into a full-fledged grin. Bastard. “It’s just a little…warm in here.” I pluck at the loose neckline of my dress for effect.
“That happens with so many people in an enclosed space,” she easily agrees. I hear Shaw lightly chuckling as his mother pulls me in for a hug, followed by Preston. After my introduction to not only Governor Malcolm Presley but the state’s lieutenant governor as well, I stand dutifully beside Shaw, his arm snaked around me once again, while he makes small talk look easy.
I feel Reid’s eyes on me, burning through the thin skin of my cheek but I refuse to turn. I haven’t acknowledged him once. He’s tried calling me five times over the past week. Ever since the article broke. He’s left five voice mail messages and sent three text messages. All relatively vague, but with the same message, the same urgency: “I need to talk to you about something important.”
Well, I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to listen to anything he has to say. In fact, I’m pretty damn mad at him for telling Shaw about our engagement when it should have been me, no matter the circumstances. Shaw had every right to be upset I hadn’t told him about it, but the time never felt right. Kinda like the whole threesome fact he kept from me, I suppose. But I think until we both knew where we stood with each other, we were each holding secrets in reserve.
I still have one, though. The hardest one yet: Violet.
My sister’s memory is hallowed to me. It’s surprisingly harder to talk about her than my father’s death. For some stupid reason, I want to keep her all to myself.
Maybe it’s because I’m the only one left who actually carries her whole memory. Maybe it’s because I don’t want her judged for how she died and as soon as you mention “drug overdose” there’s a certain stigma attached that most people can’t see through to the person underneath.
It took me over a year to tell Reid about Violet and even then, I didn’t tell him outright. He followed me one day to the cemetery. He thought I was cheating on him because I’d disappear for hours at a time and I wouldn’t tell him where I was going.
My fingers automatically go to my throat. A month after he followed me, he gave me the abstract silver willow he commissioned a friend of his to make. “So your sister is always with you,” he told me, misty-eyed. I broke down. Regardless of what is between us now, I’ve treasured it ever since. I always will. It’s weird, probably imagined, but I feel her in it.
Shaw’s deep laugh blasts me back to attention. I glance up at his profile, so strong and beautiful. I love him so much. This final barrier needs to go. I need to tell him. I want to tell him. And I plan to tonight. I also plan to use that opportunity to talk about Annabelle. To see if he’ll share anything about her with me. I just know I saw the same haunting in her eyes as I did Violet’s. Only I recognize it for what it is now, when back then I didn’t have a clue.
As if my thoughts conjured her, Shaw’s little sister appears right in front of us, along with a rather nerdy-looking young man about her height on her arm.
“Annabelle,” Adelle coos. She air kisses her cheek before hugging her warmly. “You look absolutely breathtaking, sweetie.”
And she is. She’s an undeniably sophisticated stunner tonight in a mint green, floor-length, two-piece ball gown. It’s slightly daring because of her bare midriff, but the high neck and high waistline are overall conservative. Her raven hair is twisted into a simple updo and her makeup is subtle. Utterly perfect.
She looks happy. Those shadows I’m sure I glimpsed a few weeks ago seem noticeably absent. Maybe I was wrong about her after all?
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Shaw quips, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
I hug her quickly. “You look gorgeous,” I whisper. She smiles and blushes at my compliment.
I turn to the governor who called my name, debonair in his charcoal suit. “Did you say your last name was Blackwell?”
Saliva floods my mouth. All the happy feelings that were fizzing pop, one by one. I nod, whispering a yes.
“Any relation to the late CJ Blackwell?”
I was prepared for it, yet still I suck in a sharp breath at those words strung together. Shaw’s muscles stiffen and his hold on me noticeably tightens. Heart pounding in my chest, my eyes glide over Reid. His gaze is stone hard. But it’s not on me and it’s not on the governor. It’s on my boyfriend. And Shaw’s is on him.
“Yes. I’m his daughter,” I answer, my voice wobbly. I lean on Shaw for support.
The corners of his mouth turn down in sympathy. “I thought so. I didn’t know him well, but we were both members of the Rainier Club. He talked about you and your sister often and with pride. I just thought you would want to know he was well respected and is very missed.”
Oh fuck. The only thing that’s worse than him talking about my dead father is him talking about my dead sister. Especially since no one here knows about her besides Reid.
“I didn’t know you had a sister, dear,” Adelle innocently states.
My eyes go to her. I can’t find my voice. Perspiration breaks out on my forehead and my heart kicks violently in my chest until it hurts. I’m acutely, painfully aware that everyone is waiting to see what I’m going to say. “I—”
I don’t. Not anymore. She’s dead and gone, just like my father.
My ears start ringing and the noise drowns everything else out except the faintly spoken words that trickle down from above me on a waft of wounded air. “I didn’t either.”
I am so sorry.
“You look pale,” someone says. It sounds far away. “Are you all right?”
I’m dizzy. Sweating everywhere.
“I—”
My legs are heavy, my knees soft.
“She needs some cold water on her face.”
I think I might faint.
Someone grabs my elbow and guides me forward. I’m aware of Shaw’s arm slipping from me but not much else. I’m cold, numb, and so fucking sorry that Shaw had to find out this way.
My feet move automatically, one in front of the other, each step shaky and uneven. I don’t know who has me or where we’re headed but soon the noise fades away and I’m being pushed down onto a cushioned bench.
I stare at the creamy tiles beneath my heels, my body weighing two tons. My eyes blur until someone squats in front of me with a wad of wet paper towels. They’re pressed to my forehead. They feel cool. They feel good. I grab them and pat my whole face.
After a few beats, the ringing in my ears subsides. My heart slows. The constriction in my lungs abates. I’m so embarrassed I could die.
“Better?”
My eyes raise and conne
ct with ones that are a mirror of her brother’s.
I nod.
Annabelle blows out a long puff of air and visibly relaxes. A dry grin crosses her pretty face. “I thought for a second there you were gonna take a header.”
I huff a short laugh. “Me too.” I run the damp towels down either side of my neck, enjoying the cool sensation.
“I mean that would have been one way to make headlines, I guess.”
My smile is forced. I feel more clear-headed with each passing moment. “I don’t think it takes much where your brother is concerned.”
“The press does love him,” she says with a fair amount of mockery.
So do I.
The door to our left pushes open and a woman with a phone pressed to her ear stands there. She looks frazzled. When she sees us, her eyes scan the rest of the ladies’ room lounge before she turns and walks back out. Just as the door closes I spot Shaw. Our eyes connect briefly before he’s out of sight. He looks concerned. And hurt. Very, very hurt.
Shit.
My head falls against the wall in defeat. I suck.
“You like my brother, huh?”
I roll my head toward Annabelle. Her eyes are big and blue and look otherworldly. “Very much.”
One side of her mouth kicks up. She watches me quietly. She’s choosing her words. It reminds me of Shaw. A lot about her reminds me of Shaw. “He watches you like a hawk.”
“He’s very attentive,” I agree.
“I don’t mean Shaw. I mean my father’s campaign manager.”
Wow. Uhhhh…what the hell am I supposed to say to that? Do I agree? Deny? Play dumb? “Oh, ah…it’s complicated.”
“He loves you.”
Holy balls. Straight to the point, this one. “Well, I don’t—”
“Shaw. Shaw loves you.” She’s changing subjects so fast my neck’s getting a kink. “I mean so does the other guy, but it’s obvious you only have eyes for my big brother.”
I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to say so I keep quiet.
She slips off nude sandals and slides her feet to the cushiony leather beneath us, pulling the fabric of her long skirt over her bent legs. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she lays her cheek on them and stares at me.