All is Lost (All Series, Book 2)

by Marie Wathen

  Folding my arms across my chest tightly, I dig my nails into my biceps to keep from following through with my last thought.

  “My role in this family is exactly as it should be. I’m still your son. But I won’t go back to the way it was before. Too much has happened and I’ve learned that some things are more important than business.” I force my voice to remain monotone, keeping my expression relaxed, when clearly my defensive stance screams anything except calm and collected.

  “You’re pathetic. At least your brother and Sam had the backbone to face me instead of running away like a pussy.”

  “Marcus has been on to you for years. I should have listened to him.”

  “Huh, so that’s it then, he finally told you.” My father glares at me with bitter hatred in his dark eyes like nothing I have ever seen from him before. “I knew that I could never trust him to keep his mouth shut. Family loyalty never meant a damn thing to Marcus. All he cared about was moving back to Willow, our family name and reputation be damned.”

  His tone previously filled with smugness fades into disgust after pausing long enough to judge my reaction to his words. Needing to know what the hell he is talking about, I give him nothing. Not one damn reaction. I know he must feed the superiority beast within and he will crack, revealing himself and his secrets.

  “It’s just as well that you found out. I suppose he finally told Sam too. It doesn’t matter anymore. Whether she’s mine or not, I would never allow her to be my successor at Walker Corporation.”

  That did it.

  “You’re out of you fucking mind.” I laugh at his insane ramblings.

  “Do not ever say that to me, again!” He closes the three or four feet that separate us with a couple of long strides, bringing his face, distorted with vile rage, within an inch of mine.

  I do not back away or flinch as he tries to intimate me. My father, although he carries the looks and height of a Walker man, has nowhere near the body mass that I have. His lanky frame to mine is like a fence post to a bull, no comparison. As for his vengeful tone, I stopped fearing his idle threats when I was a teenager.

  “I want nothing to do with your idiotic shortcomings. How could you even say those things about your own daughter? She has looked up to and defended you her entire life and then just one day out of the blue you decide she isn’t yours.”

  “There’s nothing idiotic about your sister not being my heir, because she isn’t. The blood tests performed on her when she was seven years old, after she was diagnosed with meningitis, proved that Sam is not my child. It was the most embarrassing day of my life, until you pulled your little runaway stunt, leaving me and Beck looking like fools in front of Ned and the Canadian administrators.”

  My stomach churns with the realization that he truly is a heartless bastard and that he is not lying about my sister’s paternity. Condescending bastard that he is, Barret is almost gloating at this fact, like he’s proud that she isn’t his child.

  “You’re the pathetic one.” I bark, mimicking his rage. “You strut around like you’re so fucking entitled, and you want us to be just like you. It never made any sense to me when you discarded her like a piece of waste. Instead of her following in your footsteps, she wanted a life that would be considered honorable so she joined the police department. I thought you hated her for that, but you stopped loving her a long time ago, when she was just a child.” I glare down at his smirking face. “And then what? You shipped our family as far away from the scandal as you could just to protect the Walker name? Does Granddad know about this?”

  “I don’t give one shit what my father does or doesn’t know.” He growls menacingly. “Beck and I run this company and we’re forcing him into early retirement. None of what you’ve said matters. And nothing you do concerns me any longer. With Tristan recovering nicely, Beck will ensure that he will come on board and assume the role that none of you are worthy enough to handle.” His face boils red with anger as he continues. “I’m done with you, Marcus and Sam. I was disappointed in Marcus when he chose to follow Sam into law enforcement over working in the family business, but you…you’re a disgrace. You crawled away from responsibility like a petulant child unable to do for yourself. Your lifestyle is filled with booze, kink and partying, and that makes you weak,” he snarls, fists clenching against his thighs. “You are nothing and you will always be nothing. If I hadn’t made that whore you call “Mother” take you to the doctor to prove that you are mine, I wouldn’t believe it. You are dead to me. You’re all dead to me. Now get the fuck out of my house!”

  His razor sharp words ricochet around in my head and then zip through my veins straight to my heart, cutting out the minuscule piece of love that I had for my father. Proving his point of not giving a damn about us and being done, he literally turns his back on me leaving me there in the wake of his verbal assault.

  Everything he spat at me hits me with a powerful blow. It’s not the threats, but his total and malicious disregard to my entire family. That monster is not my father. His greed rules him and all of my life I wanted to be just like him. Mygod, I am like him. No one has ever mattered to me more than Walker Corporation.

  Standing here in utter shock and feeling shattered, with the weight of the compilation of my father, my future and losing Waverly falling down on top of me, the pressure forces me to literally drop to my knees. My head bows forward and my shoulders slouch. The stuttered pounding of my hard pulse echoes violently in my head and I slap both hands over it to stop it, but nothing will stop this. Rocking back and forth on my knees I press hard on the sides of my head and begin rubbing roughly. I deserve this. The burning behind my pinched shut eyes threatens to turn into tears, making me feel like a fucking loser.

  You are a loser.

  Squeezing my eyes tighter, I fight the emotions flooding me and clench my hands into my hair, begging the onslaught to stay away, but I can no longer fight it. One fat tear splats hard on my thigh. I open my eyes into tiny slits and glance down at the spot.

  You are weak. The words of my father reverberate in the hollowness of my soul.

  A biting coldness encroaches and I can’t stop it; it moves first onto my skin and then deeper, seeping into my muscles and finally reaching the depth of my heart. A faint buzzing near my ear vibrates and after a full solid minute of hearing it I can’t take anymore. I bark out for it to stop and it does, but then I feel tiny, warm arms wrapping around me. Weakly lifting my eyes, I shiver when I realize that it was Breesan’s voice that I heard shushing me and it’s her arms that are holding me now. With a trembling hand she reaches up and wipes away the tears that I didn’t even know I had cried off of my face.

  “We need to leave,” she whispers with the gentlest voice anyone has ever used on me. I nod weakly.

  Struggling to help me onto my feet, Breesan shoulders my weight, walking us into the garage and bringing me around to the passenger side of my car. She gently guides me in and shuts the door. She slips in the driver’s seat and jerks the car into reverse before peeling up the pavement on the lengthy driveway. She is as eager to get the hell away from this place as I am. She drives around the island for an hour before speaking again.

  “I’m starving, but I don’t think you should go back to Rhys’ yet. Do you want to get some food?”

  With my head pressing against the head rest and eyes closed, I nod and glance over at her. “I could eat. But I can’t face people right now. Let’s just pick up something from a drive-thru. I just can’t deal with anymore bullshit.”

  “If you want to be alone, you can drop me at the compound and…” Feeling anxiety about being alone combined with my new wave of guilt for making her feel bad, I cut off her sentence.

  “No! I need you.”

  Forty-five minutes later we are at a park about two miles from Rhys’ compound. Breesan grabs the fast food bags, and I search my car trunk for anything to sit on. Locating an old LSU throw stored since last football season, I tuck it under my arm and follow her to
a remote spot along the tree line and unfold it on the ground. We dine on our greasy fried food quietly, and I’m totally grateful that she doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mundane bullshit or prod for answers that I just don’t want to give.

  She already has a shitty opinion of me. I don’t need to add to it by telling her how I’ve devoted my entire life to learning every damn facet of a business that I no longer want any part of now. After hearing the venomous words spout from my father’s mouth about my sister and grandfather, how can I tell her that I was on the verge of becoming exactly like him? How do I explain to Breesan that I threw away a woman who didn’t fit into my family’s monopolizing designs, centering on greed? Waverly cared me for me, not because of all of that other bullshit and certainly not for my money. She never cared about what I could give her, other than myself. I thought that was asking too much. It was the one thing that I was too stupid to take a chance on. I want the chance back.

  Spotting an old tire swing hanging from a tree close by, I ease up on my feet and make my way over to it. The old rope holding it is frayed, but it looks strong enough to hold my weight. Jumping up and catching it high, I hoist myself over the top of the tire and cross my legs in front causing it to swing around erratically at first. After a couple of seconds I get it sorted and it settles to a slow fluid motion. Finally, with the combined serenity of the location and my companion, my mind begins accepting the information and I’m no longer on overload.

  “Want a big push?” A squeaky, humorous voice draws me from my almost suffocating solitude. I glance over my shoulder and see a smiling Breesan and nod my head yes to her question.

  “You know the night we met was the first time that I have ever been turned down by a woman,” I confess to her after a couple of really hard shoves from behind. “And you did it more than once. Rejection was foreign to me before you Breesan Maxwell.” Catching her rolling her eyes before she pushes the tire once more, I smile at her ability to not give a damn about my need for high self-esteem.

  “You did seem like something may have been bothering you, but I’m not naive enough to believe that I’m to blame. So don’t try to dump it on me.” She defends, and I do not miss the self-protective shadow move along her gray eyes signifying this line of conversation is unacceptable. She would not hesitate to leave my ass swinging.

  “Ok, ok,” I surrender.

  “It has been so long since I was here. I remember my dad pushing me on this very swing. I was five at the time,” Breesan says, leaning with her back against the large oak tree. I smile at her feeling comfortable enough with me to share her memory. An adorable laugh effectively pulls me from my haze. “When was the last time you were on a swing, Morgan Walker?”

  “I can’t remember the last time I was on a playground,” I reply after searching my childhood memories. Stretching back and tilting my face up to the sky, it forces my feet upward and I smile as they reach higher with my momentum.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself up there.”

  “Do you want to climb on? I think this old rope is strong enough to hold both our weight.”

  “No thanks. If I were to guess this moment of childlike fun and freedom is a rare moment for you. It’s nice to see a side that I didn’t know existed in someone so, so–I don’t know what. When we first met, you were a real ass. I could never imagine you enjoying yourself. I guess I judged you to be too governed for fun.”

  She doesn’t know how close she is to the truth. “We didn’t really play growing up in England.”

  “Are you saying your parents didn’t take you to the park?” She asks, her eyes are wide with shock, but quickly adds, “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I asked you such a personal question after what just happened.”

  This is completely out of character for me, but maybe I should share more since we’re friends and she is finally comfortable with me. “Barret and Haleigh Walker don’t play in the park, they work. Well dad worked while mom juggled schedules. We spent more time with our governesses than with our parents. And every second of our time was focused on education. All free time was scheduled and consisted of some sort of training. My parents pride themselves on our diversity. And higher education is of the utmost importance to them.”

  Reaching my arms up, I grip the rope tight with my hands, unhook my legs from it and drop to my feet. The swing jerks around out of control and with one hand I steady it while holding the other out in Breesan’s direction.

  “Come on.”

  With my suggestion her smile is more brilliant than the sun tanning her checks a rosy pink shade. She doesn’t even hesitate. Jogging over, ignoring my assistance, she leaps up and wraps her body around the rope and sits on the old tire. Laughing exuberantly, she starts a gentle rocking rhythm.

  “Gran brought us here many times when we were here during the summer,” I admit, happily. Reminiscing I smile at the memory of my precious grandparents being more like my parents than my real ones.

  “You’re lucky to have grandparents,” she whispers sweetly.

  I can see the heavy emotions lying within her striking eyes and change the subject before she gets consumed with her dark past. “Once puberty hit, having fun, while playing around with girls was my main objective, instead of playground fun.”

  Snorting, she says, “Yeah, I’m sure you get plenty of adult entertainment.”

  “Mm, hmm,” I offer, giving the swing a gentle push.

  “I like this Morgan,” she confesses, glancing down at me with an adorable grin.

  “I don’t think I like him at all anymore.” I counter, turning my back on her and walking back to the blanket.

  After a few moments alone with my demons, I feel relief when I watch her stretch out beside me. With her eyes cast upward scanning the slow moving clouds, she lets out the cutest little sigh.

  “Every relationship is messed up and I speak from experience. In all of history I can’t think of one couple, any parent and child or best friends that haven’t had difficulties, but I’m starting to learn that they’re still worth it. My whole life has been about never depending on anyone. I always thought that once I opened up I would get hurt and I wouldn’t recover if I lost that person.” She sighs sadly, a very melancholy grimace hints on her lips. I reach down and lace her fingers through mine drawing her mind back to talking. She twists her body around so that she’s lying on her side facing me. “You wanted to be my friend when we first met. I was scared to let you in because I was scared to lose you. Losing Anna and nearly losing Tristan - well, we don’t know that I haven’t completely lost him yet - it hurts Morgan. All that my life has ever been is pain.”

  “I know I confused the hell out of you the night we met. There are things that I did and said that I am not proud of and you deserve better than that. The truth is I was attracted to you…”

  “But there was someone else.” She shocks me by telling me instead of asking.

  I stare deeply into her eyes and feel a comfort with her that I have never allowed before. For once in my life I want to confess my desires.

  “Yes, but I messed it up, royally. And now I don’t know what to do.”

  “Morgan.” Her eyebrows draw in fiercely and her pupils dilate as they begin to jump around, like she is scanning my face for deception. “We will get her back,” she says with honest determination.

  “You know?”

  Nodding, she answers, “I think I knew the night we met. Would you do anything to get Waverly back?”

  “I would deplete my trust, go to the ends of the earth, use all of my contacts and do everything in my power to get her back home.”

  Breesan’s eyebrows draw in tightly, “Back to you?”

  Nothing and no one has been of greater value to me than Waverly Collins, but is Breesan the one to hear all of this? What if I never get the chance to tell Waverly how I feel or apologize for every bad thing I did and said to her? If she is found…alive, would she want me back after putting up with my bullshit is
sues for so long? She deserves so much better than me. I want her back so badly so that I can confess all of the things I’m feeling to the right woman.

  After several minutes with no response from me, she accepts that I’m not prepared to tell her anything today. Reluctantly, we pack up our things and begin making our way back to Rhys’. As this fucked up day draws to an end I have discovered some things about my family, my friends and myself that I have a feeling will help me get through it all. I don’t need money and prestige to make me a good man or this life better. I need my woman back in my arms, telling me she forgives me and together we will make this life good.

  I will do anything to get Waverly back, I silently answer Breesan’s question.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Breesan

  “You’re serious?” Kole asks incredulously, both eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling while Morgan explains about what happened with Tristan at the Walker Mansion. “He forgot Breesan?”

  Morgan glances sympathetically at me and sighs before responding, “Well, he knew me, but not her. And it seemed like he was just ‘getting to know’ Elise.”

  “What?” Catching me off guard with that last part, I suck in a sharp breath. “Elise? I never saw her there.”

  “Yeah,” Rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, Morgan’s eyes flash regret, “she was with him when I returned to his room. That’s the other strange thing; the way they were uh, touching each other. Before the shooting he would not normally allow that shit, but much as Tristan loves Anna, I don’t think he’s even asked for her since waking up.”

  “No!” I shake my head. “Tristan would never let another woman touch him. Hell, he never looked at another woman for over ten years. And forgetting Anna is impossible. You know that, Morgan. It’s obvious the head injury has changed him, but how and what do we do now?” I plead, looking between Morgan, Kole and Rhys sitting around the kitchen table.