Jaden's Love

by Shayne Ford

  “You want to know the truth, Jaden? I’ll give you the truth. You still have that power over me. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but you do. You are my home in ways I can’t explain. But you are not a safe home. And you must know that. There’s a different part of me that is so eager to live. A different kind of woman. She’s softer and tender and gets crushed easily. She’s the girl I resented so much I had to push into hiding. I thought she’d eventually go away. She didn’t. And she’s trusting you. She came back to me again. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It’s been a while since I looked like her. She’s beautiful and courageous, and she wants to live a full life, but see... this is not the world for her. She’d get crushed by the coldness of the people and their hurtful words, and she’d eventually die a slow, lonely death. As much as she likes you, and as much as she responds to you, you cannot protect her.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. You left me once, Jaden. And many times before that. You played with me, and that’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can take a rough ride. But I can’t do that to her. If she falls for you and you break her heart, there’s nothing left for me. Nothing.”

  9

  JADEN

  “Good evening, Mr.Taylor.”

  I give the security guy a short nod as I slide past the concierge desk.

  The elevator takes me straight to the last floor, the doors opening to my apartment. I toss my phone and keys on a side table and walk to the bar.

  Absently, I pour scotch over ice in a short, fat glass and take a swig. The liquid fire flows quickly through my blood. With one hand I bring the glass to my lips again, with the other working my neckline open until the cold air rolls over my chest.

  A moment later, I slide into an armchair not far from the wall of windows.

  Tall buildings glow outside against the backdrop of the evening. Lit up windows through which I peek inside the people’s homes. My gaze sweeps bedrooms, living rooms, and kitchens. People sit around the tables, having dinner. Some watch TV while others get ready to go out. Bits and pieces of life. Some good, some bad. Some obvious. And others secret.

  My eyes shift to the horizon. The slightest dash of light threads into the evening sky, the new moon shining like a silver earring.

  A few more moments slip away, my eyes now staring blankly, no longer watching what’s in front of me but rather a carousel of memories.

  Glimpses of a long gone life revive the feelings of the past, glowing in the light of the forgiving present. The image of Sara, my parents and I sitting around a campfire while on vacation at Lake Tahoe. The image of Jacob and Sara as he steals her a kiss in front of the school. Our last Thanksgiving together before everything started to turn to dust.

  I smile to myself as I recollect the details–– the napkins on the table, the plates, the flatware and the floral centerpiece. I almost smell the pies. The scent of apples and vanilla mixed with cinnamon.

  Mom’s grin flashes in front of my eyes. She had a hard time stopping us–– Jacob and me, from tasting them before dinner. We both shared a sweet tooth. Or perhaps my mom’s pies were unbelievably good.

  I smile again. I think they were. She always put her love in them. My dad was so happy that night. We all sat around the table, and I don’t remember seeing anything but smiles. It snowed that night. By the time we ate our dinner everything was glittering white outside.

  I freeze that frame and put it back, and then I move time forward to the day Emma was born. Jacob was no longer there, and my parents weren’t there either, but somehow I hoped for a miracle. I hoped that she could bring some of that magic back.

  And she did.

  When she came into this world, she felt as if she was Jacob’s message from another realm. When she took her first peek at this world she brought with her my mom’s eyes, and Jacob’s smile, and even my dad’s frown.

  She wiped the life’s slate clean and started writing a different story. She carried with her the memory of the people we loved and also their passion for life.

  Sara and I loved her instantly. She was like a lighthouse, giving us hope, and meaning to our struggle. No matter how shitty our life was, her smile made it worth living.

  That’s how I learned how much power love brings in the life of those who’re lucky enough to live it. That’s how I learned how resilient it could be. Her love for me taught me that I could be the warmth in her smile, the glint in her eyes and the strength in her wings. That I could be her haven until she’s old enough to spread her wings and strong enough to face life’s monsters.

  Yes. She taught me I’m that kind of man. And if I’ve done it once, I can do it again.

  My phone vibrates in my hand.

  I slide my thumb over the screen. Sara’s face comes into focus.

  “Are you home already?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you had a business dinner.”

  “I rescheduled it.”

  “The perks of being a boss,” she says, smiling.

  Her hair is longer, curling at the tips.

  I grin.

  “Yeah... I guess so. How’s Emma?”

  “She’s asleep now. She’s better. We went to the doctor this morning.”

  “Was it the flu?”

  “Yes. She’ll get better soon.”

  “I’ll be there this weekend.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s gonna be fine.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No. We’re good. If you want to...”

  She pauses and shifts her eyes to the side, listening.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I thought I heard her voice.”

  Her eyes shift back to me.

  “She keeps asking about those cupcakes you brought last time.”

  My lips curve into another grin.

  “She liked them?”

  “She loved them. I baked a batch for her, but she insisted yours were better.”

  I laugh.

  “She’s my kind of girl. We know desserts,” I say. “Not that yours aren’t just as good,” I rush to add as she frowns at me.

  She holds her finger up.

  “Don’t encourage her.”

  “I don’t need to. She has a sweet tooth.”

  “Yeah. Like you,” she says, breathing out a soft chuckle.

  “And Jacob,” I say.

  Her smile withers away.

  “Yeah, like him too.”

  She goes quiet for a moment and looks away again.

  “Were you working?” I ask.

  “Yes. I’m trying to finish up a project.”

  “How was your date night?” I ask, setting her up.

  “Good,” she mutters, distracted. “What??” Her eyes flip back to her to me, filled with questions. “What are you talking about? What dating?”

  “Exactly.“

  A smile rolls on her lips.

  “Please... I’m not doing any dating.”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “I don’t need a date.”

  “I know exactly what you need, but you’re not gonna find it staying home.”

  “I don’t need that headache. Really.”

  “It’s only a headache if you have no idea what you’re doing. I trust you know better than that.”

  A soft laugh falls from her lips, brightening her eyes.

  “I’m really not interested,” she says.

  “Why the hell not? Few more months, and you’re going to graduate. We can afford a babysitter if I can’t be there to stay with Emma.”

  She waves me off, her eyes pulling away again.

  “You’re still attractive...” I say, taking a blatant shot at her.

  She starts laughing.

  “You are such an ass,” she says with a quiet voice. “You think I’d know what to do, but frankly I’d have no idea. I don’t know much about men. Jacob was the only one.”

  “You know people. Don’t worry about men. You’ll figure them out. T
he only thing you need to do is to stay away from jerks.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure about this dating thing. It’s a waste of time in my opinion.”

  “It’s not getting easier if you wait.”

  “It’s not only that. Nobody wants to get serious with someone who has a kid.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I wouldn’t care,” I say.

  She smiles.

  “Most men are not like you, Jaden.”

  A few moments of silence slip by. I take a swig of my drink.

  “Why don’t you go on a date?” she asks, turning the table on me.

  “I’m busy.”

  She chuckles again.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to believe you?”

  It’s my turn to laugh.

  She gets busy with something on her lap, her gaze dipping before I hear her voice again.

  “You still love her,” she mutters softly and flicks her eyes up.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, pushing back a grin.

  “Don’t play coy with me. You know what I’m talking about.”

  I lean back in my chair, flashing a mysterious smile.

  She waggles her finger at me.

  “I know you, Jaden. Better than I know myself. You wouldn’t be so hung up on her after all this time.”

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  She takes a long breath.

  “Listen... I don’t know why you broke up with her––”

  “I didn’t break up with her.”

  She shoots me a stern look.

  “Yes, you did. In the worst possible way. You didn’t even offer her an explanation.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  She flicks her hand at me, dismissively.

  “Whatever. The thing is... You’re still thinking about her.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “I know why you didn’t want to get close to her.”

  “Do you?” I ask.

  She studies me for a moment, intrigued.

  “Yes, I do. It was complicated in the past, but now it’s a different story. I’m surprised you’re still single, and you don’t have someone else slobbering over you.”

  “What makes you think I don’t?” I ask quietly.

  “I’m not talking casual hook-ups.”

  “Maybe I didn’t find the right woman.”

  “Or maybe you did, but you let her go.”

  I set my glass on the side table, bury my face in my hands and then run my fingers through my hair. A moment later, I raise my eyes back to her.

  “It’s too late for that,” I say with a sober voice.

  “Why’s that?”

  “She has no love left for me. And no trust. Only hate.”

  SENNA

  “You can leave it over there.”

  The receptionist sets the bouquet of roses on my desk. I scan the flowers briefly. Velvety, dark red roses. Sometimes they’re white or pink or yellow. It’s been the tenth day in a row now. They always come in pairs. One bouquet delivered to my office, the other one to my home.

  His handwritten notes always accompany them.

  I’ll stop sending flowers if you agree to meet with me.

  Jaden.

  I throw the card in the garbage.

  “Harper?”

  I hear her chair scraping against the floor across the hallway before her silhouette fills my doorway.

  She walks in. I motion to the flowers.

  “For you.”

  A blush spreads across her cheeks.

  “I can’t take them home anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “Abel started questioning me about them.”

  I lift my eyebrows, smiling.

  “Hmm... He did?”

  “Yes. And by the way, he thinks you’re wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “He says you should at least give him a chance,” she says, pointing at the roses.

  “What is he talking about?”

  “He says he knows who sends them and also happens to believe that a man who’s that persistent, must be serious about it.”

  I lean back in my chair, throwing her a vacant stare.

  “I think he has a point,” she says, holding my gaze.

  I let out a long breath. It feels as if my soul rolls out of my chest.

  “I’m afraid there’s more to the story than you two know.”

  “Is there?”

  We lock eyes for a moment.

  “Even if that’s the case what do you have to lose? You give him a chance. He screws it. Fine. You both move on.”

  I hear Abel’s wisdom in her words.

  I smile, yet I stay quiet.

  “You know better,” she finally mutters before she saunters back to her office.

  My eyes shift to my laptop.

  A soft knock on the door makes me lift my gaze.

  “Yes?”

  “Senna Lloyd?”

  I nod.

  The courier walks in, hands me a large envelope and points to a screen where I scribble my name.

  He gives me a short nod and spins away.

  I briefly scan the address before I snatch my keys, my phone, and purse, and push out of my chair.

  I hurl one last glance to the roses and walk out the door.

  “I’m going home,” I say, sticking my head inside Harper’s cubicle.

  She sits at her desk, her back turned to me. She swivels in her chair, a colorful book in her hand.

  A beautiful drawing graces the cover.

  “What’s that?” I ask, slanting my gaze to the book.

  “It’s... um... Children books. Product reviews,” she adds as I erase the gap between us.

  More books are scattered on her desk, next to her laptop. The covers are colorful, the imagery eye-catching.

  I pick one.

  It’s been some time since I’ve held a real book in my hand. They are smaller than the adult books and have beautiful graphics and well-crafted words inside. The cover design is tasteful, and the colors are well-chosen.

  I opted against doing product reviews initially, and then I changed my mind. Once we posted a few of them, they made the traffic spike.

  “They look lovely,” I murmur, sifting through pages.

  “The stories are good too. I’ve read several authors, but I like this one in particular,” she says, flipping the book she’s holding so I can see the cover. “This one is called Baby Bear. It’s about a playful baby bear who doesn’t listen to his mom and gets in a lot of trouble.”

  Her eyes glitter with excitement as she relays a summary of the story. She places the book on the table and flips through a few pages. The drawings are extremely cute and somewhat familiar which doesn’t make any sense since I never read children books.

  “The other one in this series is called Lost Girl. It’s about a girl who gets lost from her family and lives in a forest.”

  Fragments of thoughts start bouncing in my head. A memory I can’t place. A conversation I once had, but I can’t connect to these books.

  “Who’s the author?” I mutter.

  She flips the book again.

  “Hope Evans.”

  “Okay,” I murmur, baffled. “Can I have them over the weekend? I’ll bring them back on Monday morning.”

  “Sure. Which one?”

  “These two. Are there any other books by this author?” She fumbles through the stack and pulls out the third one.

  “The Glass Boy.”

  “Sounds creepy,” I say.

  She smiles.

  “It’s not. It’s about a boy held captive in a tower made entirely of glass, a land of beauty surrounding him. A place he can only see, but never touch, taste or feel. It ends well, though,” she says, catching the shift of expression on my face.

  She shoves the books in a small box and places it in my arms.

  “Ca
ll me if you need me,” I toss to Harper on my way out.

  One hour later, I enter my home.

  10

  SENNA

  I drop everything on the couch, make a beeline for the bedroom, take a quick shower and change into shorts and a T-shirt. I walk back in the living room, pick up the envelope and the books, and walk outside.

  It’s spring, but it already feels like summer, except today the temperature is milder, a front of dry air still moving in.

  It’s also breezy, the wind making the water ripple in the pool. I set everything on the patio table and stroll back inside, heading to the kitchen.

  Cold tiles stretch beneath my feet.

  I scoop out a bottle of water from the fridge and pour a cup of fresh coffee. Balancing the bottle and the cup, I saunter in the backyard. I place them on the table as well and make a second trip to pick up my phone and tablet. A text message arrives. Right on time. I text him back.

  I received the package.

  I should’ve done this a while ago and saved me a lot of trouble. I shift my focus to the envelope. My eyes sweep the PO Box address, printed in the upper left corner.

  I’d lie to say I’m not nervous. My pulse vibrates in my ears as I tear the envelope open. I let the content slide onto the table–– a memory stick and a written report.

  This could’ve easily turned creepy, so I had to set a line.

  I asked for a few surveillance clips, the official business information, and the PI’s analysis based on the information.

  I take a sip of coffee and start checking the report first.

  Jaden’s business is filed as an Internet Publishing Company. It owns several web properties and a couple of apps. Amongst the assets, a magazine, a messaging app, and a curator’s site. After he sold his first website, he cashed out on a second web property. A website very similar to mine, curating content, monetized with ads. That site alone brought in more traffic in a few months than my own the entire year. He sold it for a lot of cash, that sale alone fueling the flurry of web properties he owns right now.

  No wonder his firm is jammed with employees. He learned fast and acted even faster. A rare quality in this world.

  A smile briefly tickles my lips.