He’d loved Portia back then—or at least he’d thought that’s what it was—and he’d been ready and willing to take care of her and his kid, no doubt about it.
Across the table, Jackie sat completely still, staring at him with her sad eyes.
Bringing her here was a bad idea. He’d wanted to remind her of the fun they’d had on spring break back then, not dredge up how it had come to a screeching halt.
“Let it go,” he told her. “That was a lifetime ago. I’m over it.”
Disbelief carved tight lines around her mouth. “I know you well enough to know you’ll never get over something like that.”
“Look, my family is a goddamn mess, and while I hate what Portia did, maybe in the long run, it was better not to bring an innocent baby into that disaster. I just wish…”
She toyed with the handle of her spoon as his unsaid words hung in the air with dying notes of the jukebox song. “You wish you’d had some say in what happened.”
He picked up his fork, set it down again and rubbed a hand down his face. God, he felt old right now. Old and worn out. “I told Portia I’d marry her. That I’d get a full-time job to support her and the baby. But her parents never believed I was good enough for her and convinced her that I would run out on her. I thought she knew me better than that, but I guess with my family being criminals and all, she was afraid to take the chance. In hindsight, a part of me can’t blame her, but I also can’t forgive her for killing my child. She told me on my birthday, after the deed was already done. She didn’t really have any ambitions other than dreaming of having her own reality TV show. Mommy and Daddy convinced her I was a joke, so she got rid of our child.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Happy fucking birthday to me. Every year, it’s a horrible reminder of what happened.”
“Beck…”
Jackie’s eyes had teared up and he immediately felt like an ass for going down that rabbit hole. No good came from talking about any of this—the past was the past. It couldn’t be changed.
And he’d never been one for a pity party.
He reached over and took her hand. Her fingers felt cold and stiff, and he rubbed them, trying to get warmth back into the digits. “Portia’s my past. I screwed up, got her pregnant, and then I wasn’t the person she needed to feel safe and secure enough to bring our child into the world. When she showed up on spring break, what she really wanted was to hookup. That was all. She didn’t suddenly come to her senses about what she’d thrown away, nor did she feel any guilt or sadness over what had happened. It made me realize all over again that she was never the person I thought she was.”
“I’m sorry I ran out on you. I didn’t know.”
“Of course not, and then Henry had to be a douchebag and tell you selective bits and pieces of the sordid story. I don’t blame you for running away, it’s understandable.” He shrugged. “I have a lot of regrets, Jackie, but I can’t alter the past. We were all just stupid, young kids that weekend in Ft. Lauderdale. I’d like to think you and I have both moved on. More importantly, I’m hoping we have a future together after we bring Annabelle’s killer to justice.”
She detached her hand from his and sipped her water. Her fingers shook as she brushed them across her brow. “You know, I’m not feeling all that great. Do you think we can skip the rest of the meal and get out of here?”
Jackie skipping a good meal? Had he said something wrong? Tossing his napkin on the table, he pulled out his wallet. “Of course. I’ll pay the check and we can head back to my place.”
“Great.” She jumped up, snatching her purse and holding it close to her stomach. “I’ll be outside. I need some air.”
Well, shit. “Jackie, are you o—”
But she was already gone, pushing her way through the people, now three deep at the bar. Beck watched her until she went out the front door. Once again, it seemed his past had put him in the doghouse, although he wasn’t sure why.
He payed the check, went back and threw some bills on the table for a tip, and headed outside. He’d just hit the front sidewalk when he saw Jackie climbing into a cab a couple yards down the block.
“Jackie!”
The door closed and the cab took off, leaving Beck standing on the sidewalk wondering what the fuck had just happened.
Twelve
The cabbie had barely gotten to the curb before Jackie tossed a twenty over the seat and pushed open the door.
“Lady,” he hollered over his shoulder, “your change!”
She couldn’t worry about that right now. Just ahead, her front door stood waiting. She needed inside. Into her space. Her own little world where she could curl up and not think about the mess she’d created.
The fling, taking Beck’s case, all of it so reckless. Given their history, she had no business anywhere near a criminal case involving Beckett Pearson.
The father of her lost baby.
A furious whooshing clogged her ears, knocking her off balance. Her body swayed left as the cement path leading to her front door tilted and curved. Stop.
That’s what she needed. To stop, take a few deep breaths of the cooling night air and get herself together.
She stared down at her feet. Four of them.
Oh, goddamnit.
Years she’d been hanging on, holding all that grief over a baby she’d never had the chance to know. She wanted to though. A little boy who could throw a football. Or a girl who could. How about that?
A ball of rage unfurled, right smack in the middle of her solar plexus and the burn shot in all directions.
Get inside. That’s all she needed to do. Just move off the street and climb to her bed.
In the morning, she’d find Beck a new lawyer and get back to life on her own terms. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Throw herself back into her work and put Beck behind her. Hanging on to the rail, she stumbled up the porch, dragged her keys from her purse and unlocked the door.
Her space. Her neat, ordinary, drama-free home.
“Jackie!”
Oh, no. No, no, no. Beck had followed her. Of course he did. That’s the type of guy he was. A woman in distress? Absolute candy for Beck. Damn him and his hero complex.
Well, now she was done. She whipped around and there he was, all glorious muscles and fluid movement storming up her walkway and holy cow, the man was hotter than a two dollar pistol.
“What the hell?” he asked. “Are you sick or something?”
She was sick all right. Sick of carrying this goddamned guilt and pain. What kind of woman refuses to tell a man he was almost a father?
Backing into the house, she held up one hand. “I can’t…talk right now.”
Blowing that off, he hopped up on the porch and followed her right through the door. “What’s wrong?” He latched onto her arm and steered her toward the sofa. “You’re totally white. What hurts?”
Everything. Every nerve is decimated.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll make you tea. Do you have any chamomile?”
As if a fucking cup of tea would fix this? I need him gone.
She dropped to the couch and rubbed her palm up her forehead where a harsh throb exploded. “Beck, I’m fine. Please. Just...go.”
He marched into the kitchen, started throwing open cabinets. “Clearly, you’re not. Where’s the tea?”
No tea.
Another giant and vast difference in the Jackie-Beck saga. She snorted and he glanced over the breakfast bar at her, his face a mix of hard angles. “What?”
Even from the distance, his eyes sparked. So, so blue. That color had stayed with her for twelve years. Even when he wasn’t around she pictured Beck’s eyes.
And wondered if their baby would have had them.
“What?” he repeated.
A swampy mess of heartache built, climbing higher and higher inside her. Pressure. In her throat. Everything was stuck. Right there. Stuck, stuck, stuck.
Can’t do it.
Not anymore.
“Do what?”
Was that all the man could say? For the love of God come up with something new.
She flapped her arms. “This! The lines are blurred. I should never have taken this case. Never. I knew it and did it anyway.”
He came around the breakfast bar and headed for her.
No. If he sat down, he’d be too close. Jackie jumped up and they squared off in front of the sofa. She crossed her arms, pushed her shoulders back Marianna DelRay style. Battle ready.
Beck cocked his head, the investigator in him trying to decode her back-off message. “Okay,” he said, “I have no idea what the fuck is going on. All I know is you freaked on me and ran off. Talk to me, Jackie.”
“What’s to talk about? I shouldn’t have taken your case. It’s a major conflict of interest.”
“Because we had a thing years ago? Please. We’ve barely spoken a civil word in all that time.”
“It’s not that. Not entirely.”
He stepped closer, reached his arms out and Jackie flinched.
“Whoa,” he said, holding his hands up. “Do you think I’m going to hit you?”
“No! Of course not. You wouldn’t. I just…”
He dropped his arms. “Tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Why did he have to be such a pain in the ass with all the questions? Always. Even on that first night, he’d asked her so damned many. Innocent, get-to-know-you ones that she’d loved because he was so focused on her. Genuinely curious and so...present. No wonder she’d broken every moral rule she had and fallen into bed with him.
And now he wanted to hold her? Definitely not the smart thing right now.
She shook her head, took a tiny step back.
“Jackie, come on. Please. Is this about family? Portia? Just fucking talk to me. I’m not going until you do.”
She should leave him in her living room and just go to bed. With her luck he’d kick in her bedroom door. Well, terrific. Let’s do it. She met his eye. “Fine. I’ll talk. I don’t want you to touch me.”
His jaw dropped, but before he could speak she forged ahead. “I get all screwed up when you do. I get reckless, and you don’t want that. Not when I’m trying to keep you out of prison. You can’t have it both ways, Beck. Do you want me to love you or keep you out of jail?”
“Knock it off. You expect me to believe this is about love? Nice try.” He leaned in a little, nearly touched her nose with his. “Guess what, babe? I know you. I’ve watched you in court thousands of times. Times when you didn’t even know I was there. When you’re hiding something, you do that indignant, holier-than-thou thing that distracts the jury. Gets them thinking in another direction. That’s you, the ultimate spin doctor.”
He caught that? Shoot. Still, she huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Thank you, doctor, for your diagnosis.”
“And when you get busted, you turn to sarcasm. So tell me, Jackie, what exactly are you hiding? What don’t you want me to know? Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind about my innocence. You know I would never hurt anyone.”
Here it was. Her opening. He had her cornered and yet, she didn’t feel threatened. The man was magic. No wonder he was so good at his job.
All she knew was she couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t hold this secret. Not if she intended to keep him out of prison.
And maybe, just maybe have a life with him.
She reached for him, wrapping her icy fingers around his thick wrists, immediately feeling the warmth that always came with Beck. “I know you’re innocent, but I’m…” She shook her head. “There’s something I haven’t known how to tell you.”
He relaxed a fraction. Relief. “How about just spitting it out? It’s not that hard.”
Easy for him to say. Still, he’d given her the opening. She exhaled. One long breath before meeting his gaze again and holding it, praying he’d see what this had done to her. “It’s about Ft. Lauderdale. That’s why I got upset tonight. That bar, it was so...similar. It took me back and stirred up too many memories.”
“We had fun.”
“We did. And then I came home and thought about you. Wondered what you were doing. If you’d gotten back together with your ex-girlfriend. I put you out of my head. Dove back into my studies and after a few weeks, I’d done a sufficient job of staying busy.” She squeezed his wrists again. “Until I missed my period.”
His head lopped forward. “You...what?”
“Pregnant, Beck. I was pregnant. With your baby.”
* * *
Was. Baby. The words rang in Beck’s head. A sharp, thick vibration as if someone had put him under a colossal bell and hit the thing with a sledgehammer.
He stepped back, breaking Jackie’s hold on his wrists, his feet feeling completely disconnected from the floor. “My…baby?”
Jackie came at him, trying to hang on, trying to grab his other wrist. “I was going to tell you. Call you, but…”
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
He shook her off, ended up with his back against the wall. “But what? What the fuck, Jackie? What did you do?” The last words were whispered, his throat closing. His chest physically hurt as if his heart couldn’t beat. “Please tell me you didn’t…”
Tears spilled over her bottom lids. “No, no, I would never. I lost the baby, Beck. Almost the minute I realized I was pregnant, I miscarried.”
Mother Nature had stepped in, or maybe God.
It should have been a relief.
It wasn’t.
A sudden flash of memories that had never been created, never shared, rose in Beck’s mind.
Jackie and a baby. My baby.
The grief hit hard as he saw them in his mind’s eye. Him and Jackie building a life together, raising their child together. How cool could that scenario have been?
All the long, lonely days and nights of his life. The holidays. He could have been living it with his family. With this woman right in front of him.
The grief and regret nearly sucked his breath away. His hand absently rubbed at the ache in his chest.
It all made sense now. Why she’d been acting so weird around him.
Why she’d really taken his case.
He cleared his throat, found his voice again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked away, as if the lamp on the side table were suddenly more interesting than him. He expected her to turn away too, but she didn’t.
She drew in a breath from somewhere around her toes, bringing it up, up, up, and then slowly let it out, shifting her gaze back to his.
Brave. Determined.
More tears streaked down her cheeks but she stood her ground right in front of him. “I don’t have a good excuse. I didn’t know you back then, and I wasn’t sure if you and Portia were getting back together, and I… Like you said at the bar, we were all just kids. I didn’t know what the hell to do, and well, either way, nothing I did would bring our baby back.”
Our baby.
The way she said it, his heart broke all over again. I’m not the only one who lost something invaluable here.
The memory of her from back then flashed across his mind. She’d been pretty innocent but trying to act worldly and tough. It was one of the things that had attracted him to her. She hadn’t been flouting herself like ninety-nine percent of the girls on spring break. She’d been grounded, funny, smart. She’d seduced his mind as well as his body, and it had knocked his socks off.
He pinched his eyes shut and rubbed them, imagining her back in Philly with her mom the DA, her life on track to become a successful lawyer in a family of them. To find out she was pregnant from a spring break fling, with him no less, had to have scared the hell out of her. Then to lose the baby before she’d even figured out what she was going to do? Yeah, he wasn’t the only one who’d had his life changed forever by a baby who’d never had a chance to be born.
�
��You should have told me,” he said, still struggling to get words out, “but I get it.” He wiped tears off one of her cheeks. “I wasn’t exactly prime daddy material, was I?”
Her eyes narrowed and she sniffed. “Stop. Right now. Portia, your family, and God knows who else, have done a number on your head. You don’t think you’re good enough for anyone, but that’s not true. My God, you’re”—she flapped a hand at him—“you’re an FBI agent. You were a model. A football star. You’re...magic.”
“Back then, I wasn’t an FBI agent, and you told me yourself, you hated jocks.”
Her mouth trembled slightly as she tried to smirk. She dashed at the other cheek with the back of her hand, wiping away the wetness. “You’ve got nothing to prove, Beck. Not then and not now. I’ve spent the past twelve years wondering what it would be like to have had your child running around. Every time I see you, I wonder if he or she would have had your eyes, your intelligence, or your humor. I’ve ached for that—that little boy or girl.”
All the pain vanished. Not the sadness; that was still flooding his system. But the gut-ripping pain of knowing he’d lost another child gave way to the realization that, even though it had been twelve years, Jackie was still hurting.
Right or wrong, she’d saved him that grief and pain and carried the secret all alone. All on her own. He didn’t like that she’d kept him in the dark, but all this time? She’d been the one living with the burden of truth, and that truth sucked.
He tried so hard not to live in the past. It was a dark void of pain and regret, and mulling over it constantly did no good. Yet, here was Jackie, forever caught in what had happened that long ago weekend.
“Can I touch you now?” he asked quietly.
Her throat worked as she visibly swallowed. “If you do I’m going to lose all this grief and awfulness that I’ve been hanging onto all this time. I have to warn you, it’s ugly.”
Defending Justice Page 15