by Avery Laval
Grant paused in his pacing, a guarded look flashing across his face. “Because I owed it to your father. I feel a great gratitude to him for the chance he gave me. It was a chance that changed my life.” He rubbed a hand against his jaw, thoughtful. “I figured I could afford to have you on the team at least for a little while, until I found out what was really going on. And if it was serious, maybe there was something I could do.”
His words deflated her anger. But not completely. “And now that you’ve found out the truth, do you feel any differently about me?” Jenna asked, wishing she didn’t care so much what his answer would be.
Grant shook his head. “Actually, the puzzle’s still not complete. I thought perhaps you were coming here for some sort of drug rehabilitation, but the receptionist told me it wasn’t that sort of clinic.”
“Drugs?” Jenna sighed. “I wish it were something so straightforward.” She sank down into a hard plastic chair and tried not to collapse into frustrated tears.
“It’s your brother, then?” Grant guessed. His voice softened. “He’s staying here?”
Jenna nodded silently. “So now you know. Are you happy?”
Grant moved to the chair next to her, and his expression looked almost kind. “Happy your brother is in here? Not at all. I’m just surprised you were so ashamed of him that you felt you needed to cover up his problems.”
“Ashamed? Never.” Jenna leaned back and tipped her face to the ceiling, trying to stem the flood of emotion. “I am never ashamed of my own brother. No, I’m proud of all he’s accomplished.”
“Then why the secrecy?” Grant leaned back, too, mirroring her pose.
“Because it’s none of your business!” Anger replacing sadness, Jenna sprang up from her seat and pointed at him for emphasis. “I think Justin deserves to decide who knows about his health problems and who doesn’t. What he doesn’t deserve is to have some stranger nosing around into his condition. How dare you!”
Grant rose and grabbed the hand that was pointing at him, held it to her side. “I gave you the opportunity to explain yourself that day in the office, Jenna. But you gave me no satisfactory answer, and I couldn’t expose my company to some unknown risk. I had to know the extent of your situation.”
Jenna seethed, but even so, a tiny part of her understood his position. “And now that you know it?” she asked in a quiet, charged voice.
Grant released his firm hold and gently moved his hand to her arm, as if he could somehow prop her up. “Now that I know, I owe you an apology. I can’t believe what you must have gone through on your own.” His voice was tender, his touch assured. Jenna fought the urge to accept his inviting tone and sink into his warm chest. Stay with the anger, she told herself. But it was a struggle.
“No matter what you may think, it’s not any of your concern what I’ve been through,” she muttered. “Or what my brother’s been through, more importantly. He’s come through the other side, the bills have all been paid, and we are doing just fine on our own, thank you very much.” Even as she said the words, she felt the weight of all they suggested. Of what was still ahead of her to handle by herself.
“You’re doing more than fine, Jenna,” Grant said, softly. “You’ve been an amazing sister. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Clinical depression, I assume?”
Jenna nodded, the fight draining out of her, and he went on. “Was he suicidal?”
“Yes,” she uttered quietly. “Unfortunately, yes.” Her voice shook.
He moved his arm to her back and she fought the confusing wave of sensation. “How scared you must have been for him. Did he try to hurt himself?”
Jenna paused, not sure how much she should tell this man, but desperate for the first chance in her life to get these things off her chest. “Yes. Two times. The first was pills, and he swore it was an accident. Partying too hard. The second I couldn’t mistake for anything other than what it was.”
“You can tell me what happened, if you want.”
Jenna paused, quiet, and remembered again that horrifying night when she’d come up to the old house on the fifth anniversary of her parents’ death, and found him hanging at the end of a noose.
“He used a rope,” she said at last, choking on the words. “The doctors told me that if I’d gotten home two minutes later, it would have been too late.”
“Oh God.” Grant pulled her closer, close enough that she could rest her shoulders against his chest. “It’s a lot for one person to take on. But you survived, and even thrived. That's incredible.”
In his arms, Jenna let her last shreds of animosity slide away, pushed out by the flood of feeling that came from sharing her terrible memory. She took comfort there, in the strength and support of his chest, pressed to him tight enough that she thought she might be able to feel his heart beating. How had she survived, all alone with no one to talk to all this time?
“I don’t know,” she said at last, honestly. “I guess I just stayed focused on finding a solution. We tried a few hospitals and mental health facilities, but it wasn’t working. Then a nurse at the doctor’s office told me about this place. Said they were the best. And they are.”
Grant nodded. “It must have been a very expensive process, all that trial and error, and then finding him a spot at the most successful treatment center in Nevada.”
“It was. But it was worth every penny. They say money can’t buy happiness, but sometimes money can buy the best doctors in the state to make your brother healthy again. Ever since he’s gotten here, the mix of medication and therapy has been dead-on. No more watch and wait. He’s been getting better little by little. And if that isn’t as good as happiness, I don’t know what is.”
Grant ran his hands over his hair, looking chagrined. “So that explains what became of the trust fund, the houses, the clothes. Not drugs or gambling or anything as sinister as I had imagined. Medical bills, plain and simple. And now you’re broke, but your little brother is safe.”
“Exactly.” Jenna nodded. “I feel very lucky.”
Grant started. “Lucky? Where’s the luck in this situation?”
“Don’t you see? If we weren’t so fortunate to have the trust fund, we’d never have been able to afford this kind of care for Justin. Life is very good for us.” Jenna straightened, remembering herself, and pushed away from his chest. “Except for my job situation, that is.”
“Right, that. Your heartless boss and so on and so forth.”
Jenna allowed herself a tiny smile. “Well, he’s not heartless exactly. Just insanely demanding. And intrusive.” Jenna caught a glimpse of a nurse walking down the hallway and came to her senses. “Oh no! My brother! I said I’d be back five minutes ago. I’ve got to go.” The thought of leaving Grant’s arms gave her an ache, even though she knew it was the absolutely wrong way for her to be feeling. Without meaning to, she had let him get close to her again, and let him further into her life.
“Can I see him?” Grant asked, softly, clearly unsure what her answer would be. “I mean, the last time I saw him was when your father was still alive. I’d love to say hi.”
Jenna paused, but for only a second. “Let me ask him. You wait here. I’ll see if he’s up for a new visitor.” She marched down the hall, then stopped halfway and came back to where Grant was standing. “Wait,” she said, poking his chest with her pointer finger. “There is one condition.”
Grant caught her jabbing finger in his warm hand, curled his fingers around it and pulled it to his chest. “Hit me,” he replied, slowly, with a twinge of desire in his voice.
Jenna paused, forced herself to ignore the heat traveling from his hand to hers. “Whatever you do, don’t mention my financial situation. He doesn’t need the pressure of knowing what his treatment is costing. I want him to believe we are as stable as we’ve ever been, that there’s plenty of money, everything is under control.”
“In other words, you want me to lie?”
“No!” Jenna shouted, hating to admit to lyi
ng to her brother. “I just want you to exclude some details of my life. They won’t do anything but make him feel guilty. And he has plenty of negative feelings to cope with as it is.” She squeezed his hand. “Promise you’ll do that?”
“I promise. And Jenna?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. Your father would have wanted me to be there for you both. I wasn’t. I’m so sorry. You should never have had to handle this alone. And now you don’t anymore.”
Jenna walked out of the hallway and thought of his words as she knocked on her brother’s door. How could one little sentence mean so much to her? But it did.
“Come in,” Justin said, his voice muffled.
She poked her head in the doorway an inch. “So, guess what?” she ventured. “While I was in the hallway I ran into one of dad’s old colleagues. He was wondering if he could come say hi.”
Justin didn’t even bat an eye. “Of course. You know, sis, you don’t have to hide me away like the boy in the bubble. I’d hate it if you felt like you had to be embarrassed of me.”
“Never,” Jenna said, and she meant it. “I could never be embarrassed of you. Don’t even think it for a second. I’m just protective, that’s all. I want things to be exactly perfect for you.”
“I know you do. And you’re doing a pretty darn good job.” He moved to pick up a Scrabble board from his cluttered closet. “So come on in with Dad’s friend. Now we’ll have a witness when I kick your butt with a triple word score on ‘xylophone’ again.”
Grant waited behind the heavy walnut door, marveling at this latest twist on a woman he’d already thought he knew. When she’d looked up at him with tears in her eyes, leaned on him for comfort, he’d seen just how badly she needed a shoulder to cry on. His would have to do.
The thought gave him a twinge of guilt—after all, hadn’t she suffered enough?
Just then, the door opened and he heard the tail end of a boy’s laugh. “He says come on in,” Jenna said from within. Grant eased his way into the room, unsure how he’d be received by other half of the surviving McCormick family. “Hey, Justin,” he said to the taller, leaner version of the kid he’d known years ago, extending his hand for a shake. Justin had the same big, soft eyes he remembered, but now there was an air of strength about him, the look of someone who’d fought his own demons and was winning. He had Jenna to thank for a large part of that, Grant surmised.
“Hey,” said the boy as he returned the handshake. “I remember you.” He looked upward, calling forth his memory to place the face, then snapping his fingers in triumph. “Grant Blakely—Dad’s old VP. You’re the guy who runs our company now.”
“That’s me,” said Grant, hands open wide like a peace offering.
“Didn’t my sister call you a moneygrubber in the press?”
“Be nice, Justin. He’s my new boss,” Jenna explained.
“I hope it’s OK that I’m here,” said Grant.
“Sure. No hard feelings on my part. But I can’t believe my sister would work for you. She hates your guts!” Justin blurted. Grant watched, amused, as an embarrassed flush crept up Jenna’s cheeks.
“I don’t actually hate his guts, Justin,” Jenna said in a warning tone.
“Yes, you do,” the boy said, goaded onward by her denial. “You said you’d rather work for a wolf in a three-piece suit, because they would both smell the same but at least the wolf wouldn’t lie to your face. That’s a direct quote.”
Grant snorted, fighting back a chuckle. Then he gave up and laughed full on. “A direct quote, eh?” he said when his laughter had calmed for a moment. “Your sister has such a way with words.”
“Doesn’t she?” said Justin, clearly oblivious to how much he’d embarrassed her. “And she’s said worse—”
“That’s enough, Justin.” Jenna cut him off before he could go further. “Grant,” she said in a tone that signaled a coming explanation, “I was really mad when I said that, and I…”
“You don’t have to apologize. You and I have some history.”
“It’s hardly history,” said Justin, unwilling to let it drop. “She’s hated your guts for six years. There’s no way she’d ever work for you—this has to be some kind of prank.”
Jenna sighed. “No prank, Justin.” She looked about desperately, and somehow Grant knew she was searching for words to explain the situation without mentioning their money problems. “You see, I just…” Her voice petered out, and she tried again. “It’s just that I—”
“She got an offer she couldn’t refuse,” Grant interrupted, aiming a swift look of collusion at Jenna. “I dangled enough money in front of her to make anyone think twice, and begged her to come on board. We needed someone with her skills urgently.”
“You did?” Justin raised a protective eyebrow. Probably wondering which skills he needed exactly. Grant tried not to think about that question too carefully.
“Yep,” he said quickly. “I sold her on the job. And so far, so good, right, Jenna?”
She blinked hard, as if she was surprised at Grant’s willingness to help her out. “That’s right. And anyway, I needed to do something eventually. I couldn’t just be a spoiled heiress forever.” With the words, she volleyed a meaningful look back toward him, a look he wished he hadn’t seen.
“But you’ve been so busy,” Justin said. “I know how much time it took to take care of me, to take me all over and try to find a good place.”
“So she’s been a good big sister, then?” Grant asked.
“The best. She’s a fighter. But I bet you figured that out about five minutes after you hired her.”
Grant smiled, nodded his head with enthusiasm. “I did indeed. Maybe we should see if it runs in the family.” He pulled up an extra chair to the Scrabble board. “I am something of a Scrabble expert, you should know. Play it all the time on my phone when I should be working.”
Jenna raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she asked, incredulous.
“No,” he said on a laugh. “But my grandfather loves the game. I play it with him online whenever I can.”
“Well, then, you’ll find it interesting to learn how the pros play,” the younger man said. “Grab some letters and abandon hope, all ye who enter here. I’m always ready for a new victim.”
Two hours later, Justin was still the reigning king of Scrabble, and visiting hours were coming to an end. Jenna hugged her brother fiercely, told him how much she loved him and how proud she was of him, and hung there in the doorway until he had to practically push her out the door.
“Okay, sis, seriously, get out of here. I’ll see you next Friday. I love ya.”
“I love you too!” she called one more time as she edged out of his room. When the door was closed behind her, she hugged her arms to her chest and sighed.
“Leaving always this hard?” Grant said, interrupting her thoughts.
She turned to look at him, having almost forgotten he was there. No, that was impossible. There was no forgetting this strong, powerful man’s presence. It was just that she was starting to feel so comfortable around him. Which made no sense at all.
“Separation anxiety. That’s what I think this is. Every time I leave, I wonder if it will be the last time I see him. Oh, God, I’m sorry. I know that’s incredibly depressing.”
Grant shook his head, dismissing her apology. “It’s upsetting, yes, but anyone could see why you’d feel that way. Still, you know as well as I do, you’ve got to put those feelings aside. You’ve done very well by him, and now all you can do is let him get better.”
Jenna tipped her chin up to him, pride and warmth mingling in her chest. “It feels good to hear you say that,” she admitted. The power that Grant’s words had over her was remarkable. But then she thought of other words he’d uttered that had had the opposite effect, had made her feel utterly full of shame. Last night. In his penthouse. Right as they’d been about to make love.
Suddenly she forgot the way he’d comforted her and made her bro
ther laugh, forgot about his kindness and understanding—and remembered exactly who she was dealing with. “I really should go,” she said, knowing it was a sudden departure, and hoping he wouldn’t suspect what was going through her head. “It’s been such a long day.”
Grant tilted his head, clearly mystified. He said nothing, but raised one eyebrow curiously.
“I’m just exhausted,” she said, trying to make sense of her emotional turmoil. She pushed out a yawn, for effect. The only effect it had was to make Grant furrow his brows deeper.
“Trying to escape?” he asked, frowning. He crossed his arms in front of him, as if to say she’d have to get by him first.
“Not escape,” Jenna said, “not really.” Though that was exactly what she was trying to do. “I just—”
“Just don’t want to end up in my penthouse half-naked again?” Grant supplied, and Jenna winced at the words. “Last night did end rather disappointingly.”
Jenna felt her temper flare, and before she could get control, the hurt and embarrassment from the night before began to flood through her. “You were disappointed? That’s odd, considering it was you who dropped me like a rock at the first opportunity.”
Grant’s face clouded, became unreadable again. “Last night was complicated. And in case your memory is a little fuzzy, you had been drinking.” Jenna tried not to flinch at the memory. Humiliation mingled with anger, until it became impossible for her to know which she felt more strongly. “A gentleman never takes advantage,” he said.
“Maybe a gentleman doesn’t, but you are no gentleman, Grant Blakely!” She knew her temper was carrying her away, but she couldn’t help it.
“On the contrary. I can be quite gentle when I want to be.”
Jenna seethed. She didn’t know whether she wanted to smack him in the face or beg him to show her exactly what he meant by gentle. The sensation of being torn in two directions was becoming a way of life for her.
“I have to go,” she announced, not caring how abrupt it was. “You’re my boss, and I’m having unprofessional feelings for you right now.”