Promise of a New Beginning (Sweet with Heat: Weston Bradens Book 5)

by Addison Cole

  “Jack?” Sage said with a lift of his hand, a silent offer to come along.

  “I’m good.” Jack led them out of the apartment and up to the roof. The cool night air did little to clear the mounting tension. He had to hold it together no matter what they said, and he knew that falling right back into anger wouldn’t solve a thing. He felt more like his old self than the angry man he’d become, and he wasn’t going back.

  Jack folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet hip width apart, then watched Rush do the same. Jack knew from his military training that he and Rush were using their arms like protective shields that would deflect the pain of whatever was to come. But his father had mastered deflection without any props. He stood with his shoulders back, legs strong, and his arms by his sides.

  Jack opened his mouth to speak, and his father’s words silenced him.

  “Why now?” his father asked.

  The question took Jack by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—a lecture about how everything he’d done for the past two years was crap or how he’d shamed the family. But, Why now? He blinked away his confusion and tried to form an answer that his father would find acceptable, but he couldn’t string together any coherent thoughts. His answer came all on its own. Honest and simple.

  “It was time, Dad.”

  Rush shot a look at their father. Jack knew he was weighing the narrowing of their father’s eyes and the repetitive clench of his jaw and trying to figure out his next move. A sense of empathy washed through Jack. Rush was a major competitive skier, a celebrity in his own right. Six two, strappingly handsome, well educated, and he had the world at his fingertips. Yet he was still hamstrung by their father’s rule—it was the reasons why that Jack couldn’t figure out.

  His father nodded. “And what changed? What brought you to this realization that your family finally meant something to you?”

  Jack took a deep breath, feeling anger swell in his chest at the jab. “My family has always been important to me. You know that. I lost someone I loved.” He fought against his raising voice but was powerless to stop it. “That’s not a glitch in a strategy or a failed mission. It was a life-changing event.” He took another deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, buying himself time while he calmed down.

  “No, Jack,” his father began. “What has changed in you?”

  Rush’s brows drew together, and he looked between Jack and his father. Jack rubbed the scar on the back of his arm, feeling pinned between them as Rush struggled with some internal battle.

  “Everything,” Jack said through gritted teeth. He began pacing, an act that he knew his father saw as a weakness. Always face your enemies head-on. He didn’t care. He wasn’t a puppet, and he wished he could show his father that Rush wasn’t a puppet, either. Jack was there to make amends, not have his spirit crushed by his father.

  “Look, I’m not you, Dad, and I’m not Rush.” He stared at his brother until he saw a shadow of something he hoped was understanding pass through Rush’s eyes. “I might be weaker than you both, but that’s who I am. My wife died. I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I blamed myself.” He took a step forward, standing only inches from Rush. “You blamed me. You said if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself, I wouldn’t have let her go out that night.” He held his stare for a beat longer, seeing the nervous twitch in the left side of Rush’s mouth that he’d forgotten about until that moment. Then he faced his father. “You fought in battles. You led men and you led your family. You protected the citizens of this country, and you continue to protect your family every single day of your life.” He felt his nostrils flare and took a moment to get a grip on his emotions again, channeling his anger to the flexed muscles in his legs and back.

  “Everyone except me, Dad. Because you couldn’t protect me from Linda’s death. No one could. You were so busy demanding strong work ethics and achievements that you didn’t prepare me for tragedy within my own family.” Anger caused his voice to rise again. “When I joined the military, you said, Be proud of those you take down, Jack. You’re a good man. Always put your country first. Be proud? Do you see the irony?” He stomped a few feet away, then paced back and looked his father in the eye. “Well, guess what? My wife’s dead because I was so wrapped up in putting my country first and preparing strategies for the next mission that I couldn’t drag my butt away long enough to go out and pick up the things she needed from the store. And guess what else, Dad? I’m not proud. And why are you so mad anyway? Because you couldn’t protect me from the guilt and hate I harbored? Well, guess what? No one could protect me from myself.”

  The truth of his words hit him like a punch to the gut. Did he really blame his father? He took two stumbling steps back, his arms hanging at his sides. The fight drained from his muscles like lumber turned to sawdust. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. “No one could.”

  Rush took one step toward Jack before his father touched his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Jack saw the motion and was past caring. The realization that he’d turned away from everyone because he felt alone in his torment was still kicking his butt and twisting his brain into a repetitive cycle of reality slaps. No one could have protected him. His dad had prepared him for school, for the military, heck, he’d prepared him for killing human beings and getting past it.

  Jack’s eyes welled with angry tears. “You never sat me down and said, Jack, sometimes life will kick your legs right out from under you and hurt the people you love most, and when you can’t help them, the guilt will eat you alive.” He swiped at his eyes with the crook of his elbow and stalked away to the brick wall beside the door to the stairway.

  “Jack,” Rush said.

  Jack looked up just in time to see Rush break free from his father’s grasp and cross the roof to him. Rush’s eyes shifted between his father and Jack several times, before Rush said, “Aw, hell,” and wrapped Jack in his arms. “I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry. I was so pissed at you for not being a man and carrying on with your life. You left the Grays high and dry—at least that’s what I thought.”

  Jack embraced him, and Rush put one hand on the back of Jack’s head, the other on his back, and held him against his massive chest. Their hearts beat in a frantic, angry rhythm against each other.

  “I couldn’t help the Grays. I could barely help myself,” Jack said through his tears.

  “I know. I get that now. I messed up, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

  The lump in Jack’s throat practically stopped his breath from passing through. It took all his focus to choke out the last of his words. “I love you, man.”

  Jack caught sight of his father, stone faced and standing in the same stoic position as he had been the entire time. Jack couldn’t fix whatever his father was holding against him, but he couldn’t carry any more anger in his own heart, either. He’d overdosed on anger and felt as though one more ounce would be too much. He drew back from Rush, nodding a silent acceptance of his apology, and crossed the roof back to his father.

  “I don’t really blame you, Dad, and I no longer blame myself. I made a poor decision by letting her leave the house that night and by not going myself. But that decision cannot define me for the rest of my life. I’m a good man, and I have to believe that Linda knew that.” He looked down, took another deep breath, then met his father’s eyes again. “And I think that you know it, too. Even if you can’t allow yourself to admit it.”

  Rush motioned Jack over with his hand. When Rush put his arm over Jack’s shoulder, he had no regrets. He’d told his father the truth. Almost. He hadn’t told him about Savannah, and he wanted a clean slate. He faced his father again and forced his shoulders back, forced his spine to straighten, and in an uneasy voice, he said, “I met someone, Dad. And she knows I’m a good man, too.”

  Rush opened the door, and he and Jack descended the stairs.

  While Rush filled one of the missing pieces in Jack’s heart, there was another piece of his heart still on
that roof—and he felt the gaping hole it left behind. He’d given all he had to give, and knowing it wasn’t enough made him sick to his stomach.

  AT THE BOTTOM of the stairs, Rush said, “So you met someone?”

  Jack knew Rush was just trying to turn the tides between them, but Jack couldn’t stop thinking of his father. He wished he understood what he’d done. If only his father had said something. Anything to clue him in. How could a father and son become so lost to each other? He turned back to Rush, surprised at how quickly Rush had become his buddy again. Maybe the ties that bind families together really are stronger than anything else.

  “Yeah. Savannah Braden. She lives on the Upper East Side.” Savannah Braden. The woman who changed my life. “You know her cousin Blake—”

  “No way. Blake Carter’s cousin? No wonder he was asking about you. Is she cute?” Rush asked.

  “Beautiful. And smart. She’s a lawyer.”

  “What’s she doing with you?” Rush teased.

  Jack feigned punching his arm, and Rush pretended to punch Jack in his stomach. They were laughing as they approached the door to Siena’s loft, but Jack’s laugh was forced. Rush touched his arm.

  “Jack. I was a real jerk to you, and I’m sorry. I know I said some horrible things. It’s just…you were the guy I always looked up to, and when you fell apart…” He shrugged. “My hero had fallen. You disappeared and I got pissed. And then I saw how mad Dad was, and I jumped on that train, I guess. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Rush. We all messed up. I just wish I knew why Dad was so mad.”

  “Got me. He’s never said anything. He was real supportive of you until you disappeared, and then it was like a switch turned and he was like he is now.”

  “Well, maybe he’ll find a way to tell me what he’s thinking. And, Rush, I wasn’t exactly kind in the way I handled things with you, either. Let’s just say we were both jerks and move past it.” Jack patted him on the back, and when Rush flashed the smile Jack hadn’t seen in two years and he heard laughter coming from inside Siena’s loft, he knew they were on the right path.

  “Okay. Maybe you can forget that I said you were my hero. I’ll deny it if you ever say it in front of them.” He nodded toward the door.

  “Jackass,” Jack teased.

  The second they stepped into Siena’s loft, the room silenced. He could have heard a pin drop. Instead they heard their father’s loud footsteps descending the stairs right before the door swung shut.

  “Where’s your father?” Their mother rushed to Jack’s side and touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  Jack placed his hand over hers. “Yeah, actually. I am.”

  The door swung open, and his father stepped inside. He made a wide arc around Jack and his mother and joined the others at the table. Without a word, he laid a napkin in his lap and reached across the table for a dish of lasagna.

  Jack’s mother pursed her lips and shook her head. She patted Jack’s chest, then took his hand, as she’d done so often when he was a boy, and they sat at the table. Siena and Dex exchanged a roll of their eyes at their father’s behavior, and Kurt, too passive to get involved, was probably taking mental notes to use in one of his thrillers. Sage lifted his beer bottle and smiled at Jack and Rush.

  “To family,” he said with a wink.

  Everyone except his father toasted, and it broke Jack’s heart to see his father alone on the opposite side of the Remington line.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SAVANNAH CLIMBED THE steps to her apartment, thinking about Aida and Jack. Now that she had Jack in her life, she felt transformed. It struck her that she was finally in a relationship where she wasn’t the only one doing the giving. It feels good. She shook her head at the thought. No, it feels great! She was less on edge. Their lovemaking wasn’t one-sided, and she felt herself changing as much as Jack was. She’d always thought she needed to be a man’s only true love, and what she discovered with Jack was that love came in different levels. She knew Jack loved Linda, but she saw the way he looked at her and felt the way he touched her, and she knew in her heart that regardless of what he’d felt for anyone before her, he loved her in a completely different way than he’d loved anyone else.

  She hoped that Aida would find the same kind of true love one day and that at some point the right person would see Aida’s boisterous, flirtatious nature as a layer that they just needed to delve beyond and love her for it as much as for what lay beneath. Just as she’d seen Jack’s anger as a mask of pain and she’d known that below that pain could only be a passionate, loving man with a heart so big it just about strangled him.

  She flipped through her keys on her way up the stairs.

  “There’s my angel.”

  She looked up and met Jack’s smile with her own.

  “Jack. How did it go?” She rushed up the stairs and stood on her toes to kiss him. She’d been trying to push away the question that Aida had planted in her mind over dinner, and now that she was looking at Jack, the thought moved to the forefront of her mind. How did you get that scar and the ones on your back? Aida had wondered if it was something that happened in the military, but Savannah had noticed that he rubbed it when he spoke of Linda, and she’d have to be blind not to see the connection—and that’s what had kept her from asking him all along.

  “Better than I’d expected. Let’s go inside and we’ll talk.”

  Inside the apartment, Savannah poured them each a glass of wine, and they settled onto the couch.

  “So it went well? Your family was receptive?”

  “For the most part. Siena, Dex, and Kurt were very open and welcoming. Sometimes I forget that while I’ve been angry for two years, that’s my own little circle of life. For everyone else, life goes on as normal. They work, they hang out with friends, and I’m sure they have passing thoughts about me as their brother, but really, it was my life that was messed up, not theirs.”

  “It’s hard to keep that perspective. I know that sometimes I get really wrapped up in a case and I can’t understand why everyone else isn’t feeling as conflicted or overwhelmed as I am.” And since I’ve fallen for you, I wonder why everyone else isn’t on cloud nine like I am. “What about Rush? I know how worried you were about him.”

  Jack sipped his wine. “Rush…Rush was good. He’s in a tough place. He’s always tried to be the man our father wanted us all to be—and I don’t even know who that man he wants us to be is anymore. I’ve been thinking about it. We’re all good men, and we’ve always worked hard and done our best, and I always thought it was enough, but after tonight, I have to wonder…” Jack took Savannah’s hand and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’ve changed me, Savannah. You’ve given me strength to do what I needed to, and you’ve taught me to look beyond the hurt and anger. Tonight, when I looked at Rush, I saw his anger as something other than an attack on me, or hatred for what I’d done. Because of you, I understood where it came from.”

  “What do you mean?” She saw a smile form on his lips, then fade, as if he didn’t want to believe that whatever he was thinking could be true.

  “I realized that Rush was doing what he thought my father needed or wanted him to do. He was stuck. My whole life, he idolized me. I can’t even imagine anyone idolizing me.”

  “Jack.” The pain in his eyes drew her hand to his cheek. He covered it with his own hand and smiled.

  “My mom does that same thing, touches my cheek like that. You’d like her.” He kissed her palm, then held her hand within his own. “Anyway, Rush said he felt like I let him down by giving up. He actually said his hero had fallen and that he was pissed that I took off, but beyond that, I could see that it was his own messed up need for our father’s approval that pushed him to act the way he did toward me. And I get that, you know? We all want our father’s approval.”

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m missing something. What happened with your parents?”

  “My mom was just glad to have me back in her life again. Sh
e’s very earthy. You know, the love-thy-neighbor and to-forgive-is-divine type.” He smiled. “To this day, I have no idea how she ended up with my father. He didn’t say much to me tonight. He and Rush and I went outside to talk, and I was very open with him about everything, and he didn’t soften once.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’m sure he’ll come around. He’s your father, and really, what does he have to be mad at? Because his son needed time away to deal with the death of his wife?”

  Jack placed his hands on her cheeks. “You’re an amazing person, Savannah. You see the good in everything and everyone.” He kissed her softly. “In my father’s defense, I said something to him tonight that I never realized I felt, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I must have. He’d prepared me for war, and he’d prepared me to act ethically and work hard and for all the things he deemed important for a man. But no one ever prepares you for the death of a spouse, and I guess I wish he had.”

  “Jack, how could he have done that? That’s not something parents do.”

  “No, but talking about death in a manner other than being proud about snuffing out the enemy is, and that’s what was missing. I do remember my mom talking us through when our pet bunny died when I was probably eight or nine, but what I remember most about that summer was my father’s belligerent attitude and his blatant disregard for what she was trying to teach us. I can only recall his words, not hers. Stop crying. Sissies cry. You’re a man. That rabbit’s life is over. Time to move on.”

  “As horrible as that sounds, he was probably trying to get you to, you know, man up, or whatever guys think. I can’t imagine that any father would say that if he thought it would have long-term negative effects. Do you know how long you mourned that rabbit? You know how kids are. Is there a chance you were milking it for weeks like kids do?” There had to be another explanation. Jack was too good in his heart to have been raised by someone so cold.

  “I honestly don’t remember.”