A Heart's Design

by Natalee Cooper

She flinched, but even for the moon’s weak light, he saw a wounded spark flicker in her eyes and guilt crept up his spine, but the pit of emotions widening inside of him left him helpless.

  “Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

  “You wanted some recognition. And, you know what? I get it. I do. I should have given it to you sooner.” He balled his fists where they hid beneath his arms.

  “You really think I betrayed your trust?”

  Crouching his brows together, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Kit Gentry? Channel 2? It was all on there.” He rubbed his neck, but feeling the unsteadiness of his hand, he tucked it back under his arm. “You know, you could have asked. One phone call. One conversation, and I would have made things right.”

  She slid her fingers through her hair, pulling on the ends as her eyes squeezed shut. “You’re not listening. That interview you saw of me? That was for the restoration. That story about Idaho? I knew nothing about that.”

  He swallowed hard around the mass of confusion lodged in his throat, flinching when the warmth of her hand rested on his arm.

  “Please believe me.” Her lips trembled when she spoke.

  Jase tried to speak, but every muscle was stiff, as if his body was afraid it would collapse with the slightest movement. The adrenaline that had clogged his veins moments ago now left him weak and unstable, the difference as jarring as Dustin’s right hook.

  She pulled her hand back, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’d never do that to you,” she whispered. “Ever.”

  His eyes stung, only he couldn’t blame it on the ocean’s spray from the water behind his home, or an east wind. He studied her eyes, those pools of blue almost silver. There wasn’t a heartless fleck in them, not even at the edges. “I trusted you.”

  “Jase, ple—”

  He put up a hand. “I still do.” He could feel her gaze on him, but he focused on the muted shadows in his yard created by the rising moon. “But I don’t trust me.” His voice slipped on the last word as snatches of his nightmare filled his head like smoke to eat at him. Triggers from his past were like a minefield. There wasn’t any escaping them. “I knew better. And I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean?” The question barely rose above the lapping tide in the distance. “What are you saying?” Her voice broke, and she ran a finger under her eye as a tear fell.

  “I’m not good for this. I’m too…” Truth snatched at his voice, but he drove out the words she needed to hear. “Broken.”

  Her head started to shake before he’d even finished. “No. You’re not.” She wiped at more tears, though others spilled in their place, and pointed a shaky finger at him. “I get what it feels like to lose the people you love. It’s heavy. Crippling. Sometimes you don’t even know who you are, but it doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

  “Then what does it make me, huh? What does that make me?” His throat burned raw with the shouted words. “I can’t sleep, I can’t think lately. All I seem to do is fight this thick…blanket of guilt and anger. I thought I could shut those feelings up, live a normal life, but I can’t. For so many years I fooled myself. It’s been eleven years, Madison. Eleven.” He barked out a laugh. Natasha had seen him for what he was. Even Dustin, and with a pleading look, he begged the girl in front of him to understand. “I won’t be that naïve again. I won’t bring anyone else down with me.”

  She flinched, and his arms fell limp at his sides, his fight, drained, leaving him numb. “You deserve better. So much better.” He took a shaky breath. “Someone who can make your wish real.”

  “You really believe this? You’re willing to throw away the chance at something amazing just like that?” She reached out to him, but her hand faltered and fell to her side when he moved back. Then she stepped closer anyway. “Look at me.”

  He obeyed the intensity in her voice and met her gaze, though he kept his own guarded.

  “You are not broken, Jase.”

  His jaw flexed.

  “You’re not, but if you want to spend the rest of your life hiding behind that lie, then I can’t stop you.”

  His muscles tensed as she took another step toward him, the lines around her eyes and mouth softening.

  “There’s a difference between broken and brokenhearted. And it’s okay to be the second. It means you’ve loved. Deeply. And that sounds pretty unbroken to me. It sounds brave.”

  Jase lifted his chin as he fought to control his emotions and grasp even a scrap of clarity, but he couldn’t think straight, and his body charged for flight.

  “Please don’t shut me out.”

  Her sweet fragrance swept over him, but the hum of the television in the background distorted it, and the only thing he was capable of at that moment was thick, empty silence. There was nothing left for him to give.

  “So that’s it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  ****

  Sunlight crept across his face, like an obnoxious horsefly. No matter which way Jase turned, the blinding rays found his eyelids. He stuffed his pillow over his head, but it only intensified the dull ache in his skull.

  Shoving his covers off, he stood, his feet cringing against the cold floor as he stretched his back. He stared down at his king-sized bed and the single pillow bunched up against the black headboard. The echoes of how alone he was seemed to scream back at him, and he fought the urge to chuck a pillow at the blinds and sun and sit in quiet. But pride had him sending Penny a quick text telling her he’d be there in an hour. It was also pride that got him showered and dressed and past a news truck outside his gate.

  As he entered his building, he studied the polished tile, the paneled halls, anything but the other faces in the large lobby. Only, it was still there—the sympathy and curiosity. The pity. Why any of them cared so much about the old story was beyond him. He was just a guy that bought and sold real estate and dabbled in developments here and there.

  Nothing newsworthy.

  Penny was waiting for him as he exited the top floor. “Morning.”

  “Morning, dear.”

  The catch in her voice stopped him short, and he blinked back the prick of moisture in his eyes as she gave him a hug. The scent of her familiar perfume engulfed him like an embrace of its own, and his arms tightened around her small frame. She returned the pressure like he was her own son—one she was hurting for.

  After a moment, she let him go. “You've got a visitor in your office.”

  He frowned, eyeing his door.

  “It's only Leeza.”

  His shoulders relaxed as he pulled it open, holding it for Penny to join them.

  “Good morning, Jase.”

  His lawyer’s professionally tailored suit and modest heels, along with the sleek knot at the nape of her neck, spoke all business, and he relaxed further. Business was safe.

  “How do you want to handle this?”

  “I’m sorry?” He rolled his neck, trying to disperse the fog in his brain from the last twelve hours, but he was aware enough to know there was slim, if any, legal action she could take over the news story. No laws were broken.

  Only trust.

  “You do have some recourse you can take if you choose.”

  A headache spread to pound at his temples. “I’m sure it’s very little.”

  One of his lawyer’s brows settled lower than the other. “Penny doesn’t think it was Blakeley despite how it looks.”

  “I just can’t believe she’d do this, can you?” she insisted.

  “She says it wasn’t her, that her interview was for the Old Theatre.” Jase didn’t meet either woman’s gaze, not wanting to go into the details of last night.

  “Unfortunately, the zealous reporter could have decided to dig into your past on his own. The story isn’t new of course, but tragedy makes for good click-bait. Your involvement with this restoration has you more under the spotlight than usual.”

  Hearing his past discussed openly and without much emotion soured his gut, but Leez
a was one of San Diego’s best for a reason. Emotional detachment was probably a necessity. Still, he could only manage a nod.

  Penny dropped onto one of his chairs, her shoulders drooping. “Except, how would they know about Madison’s contract with Jase?”

  Leeza tapped her nails against her jet-black phone case. “You two spent time in public up in Sun Valley, right? Maybe someone put it together. Also, the Henrys knew. Word could have spread very quickly in such a small community.”

  “No,” he said the same time as Penny, but nodded for her to go first.

  “After what Jase is doing for them, I can’t believe they’d do something so heartless.”

  His lawyer looked at him for confirmation.

  “William wouldn’t do this, and Dustin might have had a few axes to grind, but he’s a good guy. I’d be surprised if it was him, but…” He lifted a shoulder. “In the end, is it worth pursuing?”

  “Is it?” Leeza asked.

  Smooth skin met his palm as he scrubbed a hand over his freshly-shaven face, another pretense that his life wasn’t a total mess.

  “I do have some information that may interest you.” She scrolled through her phone. “That friend of mine from the news station messaged me back an hour ago. She said Natasha met with one of their journalists earlier this week, but for what she couldn’t say. Penny mentioned that Simon and his sister were upset when you brought Blakeley on to his project, so the timing fosters suspicion.”

  Had one of them found out? Does it matter? A snapshot of Madison on his porch last night with her swollen eyes—eyes that held a pool of disappointment—parted the fog like the bow of a ship. That memory would be stamped permanently on his brain. A painful reminder of another failure. Another regret. His bitter laugh was harsh in his own ears.

  Penny's lips pinched, and he knew she’d mistaken his reaction as a condemnation of the Westons. Leeza tapped her phone, staring off at the wall, probably trying to connive a way to unearth the truth and bring him justice.

  He leaned against his desk, put one ankle over the other, and massaged his temples. Natasha could have overheard him and Madison that day in his office. She’d been pretty mad when she left.

  Mad enough to do something like this? And pin it on Madison?

  Even for all of her faults, it was hard to believe she’d intentionally hurt him.

  “Jase?”

  His assistant’s voice reminded him he wasn't alone.

  “Are the Westons still in town?” he asked.

  Penny narrowed her eyes. “I believe so.”

  “As your lawyer, I should probably tell you it’s not a good idea to confront them right now,” Leeza warned.

  “You’re probably right.” But he pushed off from his desk and exited his office, pulling up the address for Simon’s hotel as he walked to the elevator.

  Putting all of his energy into getting answers meant he could escape the sharp claws of his reality for at least another twenty-four hours.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jase wrapped his knuckles on the door to the hotel room then knocked harder. After some shuffling from inside, Simon opened the door.

  “If Natasha is here, get her.” He stepped over the threshold, not waiting for an invitation.

  If the architect was surprised to see him, it didn’t show. After calling his sister’s name, Simon faced him. “What’s this about?”

  Jase swept his gaze over the room, his attention falling to the mini bar in the corner, where several empty bottles sat on their bellies.

  Natasha yawned as she stepped into the room, her hair matted down on one side. “What is it?” She stopped when she saw him, not nearly as good at hiding her surprise as her brother.

  And then it was there. Sympathy, pity…and something more, something like real concern.

  “Did you know about my family? Back in college?”

  She wrapped her long cardigan tighter around her. “I knew something haunted you.” Going to the sink, she poured herself a glass of water but stared at the crystal liquid. “Why are you here?”

  “Madison says she didn’t leak the information about me rebuilding.”

  “And you believe that?” Her bitterness clung to the stale air in the room. “If you don’t think she’s behind last night’s story, then who?”

  The question he came to ask rolled on his tongue with words he knew would cause her pain, but if the way she stiffened was any sign, she didn’t need them.

  “You think I did this. You’ll believe her over me?”

  Her lips pinched together, their natural pink looking a thousand times better than the loud, screaming colors she usually wore. In that moment, she was almost the same girl he remembered from college. Except, that girl would have never sold him out.

  “You met with someone last week from the same news station that broke the story.”

  The glass in her hand clanged to the counter. “Maybe you should look at the girl whose name is plastered all over the papers right now. You know, the one who was on the news talking about it!”

  Simon rested an elbow on the marble separating the hotel room’s kitchenette and living room. “Blakeley’s business is having trouble. This is all a win for her.”

  Jase tore his attention from Natasha to pin it on her brother. “What do you know about it?”

  “I know the Charter Club is better off without her,” Natasha said. “And I told Royce exactly that. At least his friendship with me means something to him, and he listened.”

  He spoke each of his next words with deliberate clarity as he stared her in the eye. “And you know her client how?”

  “Our parents go way—”

  “What did you say?”

  “I shared my opinion. Same things I told you.”

  She rubbed at a spot on the counter he couldn’t see, averting her gaze, and he inhaled one long breath through his nose before daring to open his mouth. “When was this?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Frustration flushed his skin with an angry heat, and he lost the battle to keep calm. “Try harder.”

  “It was a while ago, okay? And the night was a little…fuzzy.” She avoided his scrutiny. Simon’s as well.

  “Who else did you talk to about Blakeley?”

  Silence met the question, and Jase caught the mini bottles across the room in his peripheral. “How long have you had a drinking problem?”

  Her nostrils flared. “Any other stones you want to throw at me? Because I don’t think accusing me of selling you out was brutal enough.” Her voice trembled and the moisture in her eyes magnified her hurt. “No wonder you’re alone.”

  Grabbing her water, she pushed past him, knocking him back a step, but stopped at the bedroom door. “Oh, and the woman I met with at Channel Two? She’s the one who did the story about Weston Designs and our part in the restoration. She’s a friend of mine, and we had lunch plans. I’m sure she’ll be happy to confirm it.”

  The door’s frame rattled as she slammed it shut, and Jase winced.

  “She hasn’t always been like this,” Simon said. “She used to be full of spunk, ready to take on the world.” A genuine smile appeared only to fade. “But you know that.” He sank onto a stool, all of his stiff angles sagging. “The girl she was has been slowly dying this past year or more, and I don’t know how to help her,” he whispered. “I thought things would change with this project, but…”

  Jase leaned against the wall, letting it shoulder some of his weight. He felt bad for the man in front of him. Felt worse for Natasha. She’d made some poor choices this past month, but a bigger picture was unfolding.

  “You do see how brilliant your sister is, don’t you? How she has a crazy keen sense for corporate business? But she’s lost herself. And if I were you”—he leveled a hard stare at the architect—“I’d be asking myself why.”

  Moving toward the door, he rested his hand on the doorknob. “My guess is, that spunky, ambitious girl is just wanting a place in this worl
d that encompasses more than simply being the sister of a great designer.” He stepped into the hall but paused, nodding toward the bedroom door where Natasha had escaped to. “I suggest you two figure this out before the unveiling next week.”

  The door clicked shut behind Jase, though Simon’s miserable expression stayed with him to the elevator. He prayed Natasha would get some help but knew how stubborn she was. As the doors slid shut, he jabbed a fist at the down button, having no more answers than he did before.

  That’s not true.

  Natasha lost Madison the Charter Club. And who knew how many other clients when she’d been too far gone to be rational. He pressed his palms flat against the elevator wall, his forehead falling between his hands to rest on the cold, reflective metal.

  Natasha could have let my plans for the ranch slip without even knowing it.

  The doors dinged before sliding open, but it took him a moment to move. He needed a place to think and thought about the bag in the backseat of his truck and the sand along his favorite run.

  He had five miles. Five miles to choose the course of his future.

  If I still get a choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tall, cool blades of grass softened Madison’s footsteps as she walked along a small row of headstones. At the end, by a mature, full-leafed oak tree, rested two marble markers. Dropping down between them, she pulled her knees to her chest.

  With one finger, she traced the scrawling letters carved on the one to her left. Beside the name was etched a lavender rose. Of course, the stone wasn’t lavender, but she’d always pictured the flower that way. It had been her mother’s favorite.

  Her father’s headstone was free of any drawings or designs. Just simple, sturdy, and fresh. Exactly like he’d been up until he’d gotten ill.

  Before he left her all alone.

  Unyielding heartache burrowed into every corner of her chest. She closed her eyes and filled her lungs slowly, begging for release from all the pain bottled up inside. And, if the hurt was for the loss of her parents alone, peace might have come in the blue of the cloud-spotted sky or the sun’s beams filtering through the oak leaves. But right now, her heart only connected with the shadows around them.