Claiming Tuesday: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  “You wanna know why I had a bad day? My car’s totaled, got that news today. Went to visit my grandmother today. She informed me she’s moving into a fifty-five and older community. My agent filed a lawsuit against me. Which means I had to hire an attorney. I started my day fighting with you. And, now, after dealing with a bunch of crap, I’m dealing with you, again. Oh, and my grandmother’s nursing home is under investigation.”

  My body locked tight thinking about helpless elderly people being abused.

  “For?”

  “Prescription fraud.”

  “Most important out of all of that is your grandmother. Is she safe?”

  Her face softened the barest of a fraction when I asked about Patty.

  “Mercy loves my grandmother like her own. If she thought Gran was in physical danger she would’ve already gone and taken Patty kicking and screaming from the nursing home. But Mercy wants me to check the bills from Autumn Lakes and compare them to insurance statements to see if they match.”

  The nursing home being under investigation wasn’t good, but there were things far worse than doctors writing fake prescriptions. I thought back over the rest and even though she’d shared, she still hadn’t told me why she was scared.

  “Baby, I need you to tell me why you’re so scared.”

  “No way. That’s not for you, Jackson. It’s none of your business.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that is not who we are. I already—”

  “But it can be. All I need you to do is trust me.” I was done with the distance between us. “I am not whoever hurt you.”

  Tuesday recoiled then started to back up.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I do. And I know I’m not him. I’m not the one who hurt you and put that fear in your eyes.”

  Her back hit the wall, I brought my hand up to brush her hair off her face and she flinched. Anger started to well in my gut. Someone had done a number on her, and the thought made me want to punch something. I counted to three and tried to leash my fury.

  “Sweetness, did he hit you?” I whispered.

  “What? No.”

  “You can tell me anything.”

  “Travis did a lot of fucked-up shit but hitting me was never one of them.”

  Travis.

  “What’d he do that has you so scared?”

  “He didn’t do anything to scare me.”

  “But someone did.”

  “God, Jackson. Can’t you leave it alone? I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk period. I just want you to leave.”

  She wanted me to leave so she could curl that security blanket around herself and keep me out. That wasn’t going to happen. She’d told me more in the last thirty seconds than she had the whole time I’d known her. Travis may’ve hurt her, but he wasn’t the one to scare her. Interesting.

  “Have you had dinner?”

  My abrupt change of topics had taken her by surprise. Her eyes widened then narrowed. It was a fucked-up thing to do, but it was my only option. I needed her off her game, and the only way to do that was to keep her off-kilter. If she got behind those walls she loved so much, she’d shut down.

  “Dinner?”

  “Yeah, Sweetness, are you hungry?”

  “I’ll make something after you leave.”

  Cute.

  “You had a bad day, you’re not cooking. Either I’ll make dinner, or we can order Chinese.”

  “You can cook?” she asked disbelievingly.

  “Your choice.”

  “I choose to eat alone.”

  “Chinese it is.”

  “Do you ever listen, Jackson?”

  Super fuckin’ cute when she was mad.

  “I listen to every word you say. I just choose to ignore the shit I don’t like.”

  Commence the stare down, which I liked a helluva lot. Her face was unguarded, her eyes unafraid. Oh, yeah, I liked it.

  I kissed her forehead and backed away. I patted my pocket not feeling my phone, looked around, saw her keys on the counter, nabbed them, and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going with my keys?”

  “Gotta get my phone out of my truck.”

  “And you need my keys because?”

  “Because I’m not stupid. I know you’ll lock the door behind me.”

  Tuesday’s mouth curved up into a smile before she looked at her shoes, her hair falling around her face. I may’ve been a pushy asshole, but I was not an idiot.

  I opened her front door and pushed the storm door open. A white sheet of paper floated to the concrete steps, I bent to pick it up and continued to my truck. Tuesday’s motion sensor tripped, and the driveway was flooded with light. I glanced down at the flyer and my blood ran cold.

  I send you flowers, and this is the thanks I get? I should’ve known you’re just like the rest. Ungrateful bitch!

  What the fuck?

  Ungrateful bitch?

  Hell to the fucking no!

  I yanked open the passenger side door and nabbed my phone out of the cup holder. Scrolled through my recent calls, found the number I needed, and hit go.

  Two rings later, Ethan picked up. “What’s up, Jackson?”

  “Hate to call you out this late, but I need you.”

  “Where are you?”

  I heard my cousin moving around and telling Honor he needed a minute.

  “Tuesday’s. Found a note shoved in the storm door. Fucked up and picked it up off the ground when it fell.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “I’ll show it to you when you get here. But I want this on record.”

  “Tuesday got problems?” Then Ethan was talking to Honor again telling her he had to run out.

  “She got a flower delivery, it freaked her out, but she won’t say why. Now this. Yeah, I’d say she has problems.”

  “Shit. Text me her address, I’m on my way.”

  “Thanks, cuz.”

  I disconnected and texted Ethan Tuesday’s address.

  Movement from the porch caught my attention. Tuesday was standing there holding open the glass door with a different kind of scowl. One that was more concern rather than her earlier irritation with me.

  “Everything okay?”

  Shit.

  Hell, no, everything was not okay. And now it just became even more not okay.

  16

  Tuesday

  I stood leaning against the wall thinking. I’d done this for what seemed like a long time. And while I was standing there, I was trying to get my temper under control. I’d screwed up. Jackson had pushed me to the point of extreme anger, and I’d blurted Travis’s name out.

  However, while I was thinking about all the ways I wanted to kill Jackson, I realized I wasn’t freaking out about saying Travis’s name. There had been a time when hearing his name would cause me to feel physically sick, saying it would send me into an anxiety attack. Five years was a long time to be harboring a grudge. But it wasn’t long enough to forgive the man that had violated my privacy, my trust, and had turned my life to shit. He’d profited from my misery. Monetary gain from my humiliation. He’d degraded me in the worst way.

  So, the way I saw it, five years wasn’t long enough. A lifetime wouldn’t be. But at least I now knew I could say his name without wanting to curl into a ball, like I’d done many times before and wished my life away.

  Jackson and Mercy were both right, Jackson was nothing like Travis. I may’ve been screwed up in the head when it came to trusting people, but I wasn’t so stupid I couldn’t see the difference between the two.

  I knew Jackson would never betray me like Travis had. It took a special kind of douchebag to go to the lengths Travis had to deceive, cheat, and steal my self-worth.

  But I also knew that Jackson could still hurt me. And I needed to be careful. Him pushing for details about my life was annoying but his reasons weren’t. Neither was his honesty. Even if I didn’t like what he was sa
ying, he told the truth. And when he showed concern for my grandmother, that was almost enough to make me want to talk to him.

  The seriously crappy part was I knew he’d understand. I knew he’d listen. But that would mean opening myself up, and that was too scary.

  Jackson had been gone long enough that my thoughts had gone from what I’d revealed to food. I’d had a few bites of a sandwich with my grandmother this afternoon when I visited the nursing home, but after she’d told me she wanted to move out of her house and into a townhouse in a fifty-five plus community, my appetite had taken a nose-dive.

  I walked to my front door and pulled it open. Jackson was pacing, talking on his phone. I caught his profile from my security light on the corner of the house and he looked mad. Not like the mad he got at me when I argued with him or shut him out. Not even the same kind of angry as when I’d offered him payback for all the awesome orgasms he’d given me. It was ferocious and coming off him in waves.

  What the hell?

  He disconnected and looked down at a piece of paper. He was studying it like it had all life’s answers.

  I called out to him, and when he looked over, I took a step back into the house. I’d been right. He was mad. By the time he’d made it to the door I’d already backed up three feet into my house and wasn’t sure I wanted him to come inside, this time for a different reason than him always being nosy.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sweetness, I need to show you something, and when I do, I need answers, not you shutting down on me.”

  I contemplated arguing for a nanosecond before the look on his face told me it wasn’t the time. This was so unlike the annoying, playful Jackson I knew.

  “Okay.”

  He walked into my dining room and placed the paper on the table. Before I could look at it, he pulled me into his arms and slipped his hands up to my face. “Please, Tuesday. Do not shut me out.”

  I nodded because I was scared. “Brace, Sweetness.”

  Without moving my body, my eyes slid to the side and I read the note. Clean, bold, block letters. It was only two sentences, but it took up most of the paper. I’d never been so grateful for Jackson’s touch. If he hadn’t been holding me, I would’ve crumbled.

  “Oh, God. It’s happening again.”

  “What is, Tuesday?”

  “The flowers. The notes. It’s happening again.”

  “Who, baby? Who’s doing it?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know. I never knew. Flowers. Cards. Marriage proposals. Threats. This could not be starting again. I hated Travis Manning.

  “Sweetness.”

  His voice was getting further and further away.

  Fucking, fucking, Travis. He ruined me. Took everything. I was stupid thinking it was over. It would never be.

  The internet. The information highway of misery.

  I was moving but I was not walking. My mind was racing a million miles an hour trying to figure out why now. Why, after all this time, was it starting again?

  Jackson sat down with me in his lap, his arms like steel bands wrapped around me, holding me together. I wished he’d let go and let me fly into a million pieces. I couldn’t do this again.

  “Sweetness, you gotta talk to me. Who’s doing this?”

  “Travis,” I spit out. “He did this. This is his fault. All of it.”

  The doorbell buzzed, and I nearly jumped a mile. “Easy, baby. That’s Ethan.”

  “Ethan?”

  Why in the world would Ethan be at my house?

  “I called him so we can report this.”

  “No!” Panic flooded. “Please don’t. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “Tuesday! Stop.” His arms tightened even more. “Maybe not, but we’re still going to report it. At the very least it’s trespassing.”

  “No, it’s not,” I told him. “I’ve been down this road. Just leave it.”

  “Fuck no! Sweetness, Ethan’s here, he’ll take care of it.”

  “I don’t want this.” Oh my God! They’ll find out. Mercy’s new family will find out. “I’m serious, Jackson.”

  He stood and steadied me on my feet. “I need you to trust me.”

  “I won’t ever trust you if you do this.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  Way wrong.

  His face was back to granite and his eyes roamed my face, searching, and when he found what he was looking for he growled. “Baby, I do not care how pissed you get. I do not care if you go back to telling me you hate me. The look on your face tells me you’re not just scared, you’re shit scared. I will do anything I have to, to wipe that look off your face, including going against your wishes.”

  He left me standing near my couch and stalked to the door and let Ethan in.

  I remained silent as Jackson told Ethan about the flowers and where he’d found the note. I didn’t contribute a word. I was no longer giving head space to Jackson, he was out of my life, for real this time. I was going to have to move again. I couldn’t live through another day of this. It was going to get worse.

  Ethan asked me a few questions, my answers were short and to the point. I knew I sounded like a grade A bitch, and the two men had shared more than one look confirming my attitude was not missed.

  It couldn’t be helped. I wasn’t going to taint Mercy’s relationship with her new family with my problems. She was finally happy, and I was not going to ruin it.

  Jackson walked Ethan to the door and then joined me in the kitchen.

  “Sweetness. What the fuck? Why wouldn’t you talk to Ethan?”

  “Leave.”

  “No way. I told you not to shut down on me.”

  “This is not me shutting down. This is me cutting you out of my life. I asked you not to do that and you didn’t care. You have no idea what you’ve done. Now get out of my house.”

  “Tell me why. Explain to me why you’re so scared. Tell me, Tuesday.”

  Jackson standing in my kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest and a smug look on his face shattered what was left of my sanity. I felt it slipping and before I could stop it, fury and righteous indignation simmered until it boiled over.

  17

  Jackson

  “Fuck you!” Tuesday screamed.

  I’d pushed too far. This was not right. I needed to know why she was scared but the cost was too high. Her body was shaking with rage, her eyes unfocused, and she looked like I’d gutted her.

  No, the cost was way too fucking steep.

  “Sweetness.”

  “Don’t you dare. You wanna know my dirty little secret, huh? I might as well tell you. It’s not like you’re not gonna find out anyway. Actually, everyone already knows. The whole goddamn world knows.”

  “Baby—” I tried to stop her.

  “Don’t. While I was so caught up defending and turning a blind eye to Travis running around on me, fucking every model he worked with, I totally missed the real betrayal. See he was smart, full frontal attack so I wouldn’t notice he was diggin’ in from behind.”

  “Tuesday—”

  “So when the knife plunged, it was too late. They were out there and there was nothing I could do. Nothing my attorney could do. Nothing the PR firm I hired to fix my tarnished reputation could do. And there was nothing anyone could do about my shattered soul and humiliation. I was naked for the world to see. Me sleeping. Me changing. Me in the bathroom brushing my goddamned teeth. Me standing in my closet, innocently looking for something to wear. Naked!”

  Her arms were thrashing, and her chest was heaving. I couldn’t take anymore. Not the story, but seeing her like this.

  “Baby—”

  “No way. You wanted it. So there it is. The man I trusted. The man who promised he loved me. The man I shared my home with was not only fucking my friends,” she jabbed a finger at herself, “but he was also taking nude photographs of me without my knowledge. While I was sleeping in my bed, somewhere I was supposed to be safe, the motherfucker took pictures. Then if
that wasn’t bad enough, he sold them. He made money off my humiliation.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Oh, no, it gets worse.” I didn’t see how there was anything worse than someone you trusted and loved betraying you like that. He’d deceived her and, in his deception, he’d brought her low. “Once the pictures were out, it was open season. Cards in the mail. Love notes. Emails. Men sending me vile, disgusting pictures of themselves. Voicemails from strangers telling me they loved jacking off to me. Every day. Every fucking day something new, something more. It never stopped. So now you know, there’s nothing Ethan can do to stop this, because the first five hundred and fifty-two other times I reported it nothing happened. So I stopped. I moved, hired someone to wipe my personal information clean, and started over. But now, it’s happening again. Fine. I can handle it. What I cannot handle is you completely ignoring my wishes and telling Ethan.”

  “Tuesday, baby. Come here.”

  “Now Ethan’ll know. Now the minute he looks up my name he’ll see all the reports. He’ll know why. And that is embarrassing. I don’t want Mercy to be judged because I fucked up—”

  I. Was. Done.

  I didn’t wait for her to come to me, I moved to her with purpose. I swept her up into my arms. One arm under her knees, one behind her shoulders and cradled her. Any other time I would’ve enjoyed the feel of her weight.

  Not this time.

  Before she could struggle, I carried her to her bedroom. One knee on the bed I heaved us both on, went to my back, her to her side, half on top of me, and held her tightly.

  She tried to roll away and break free from my hold. “Settle, Sweetness.”

  “Let go of me.” She tried to shove away.

  “Tuesday! Stop it.”

  I pressed her closer and waited. She was breathing heavy and was vibrating with so much hostility I knew if she really wanted to fight me it’d be difficult to contain her.

  “First, you didn’t fuck up. Not in any way. None of what he did to you is your fault. None of it. You do not have a single thing to be embarrassed about.”