by Rachel Leigh
“Let’s talk in my study.” He begins down the corridor. Walking through the kitchen, we pass Esme who has her head hung down, avoiding eye contact. Knowing how he treats his own children, I can only imagine how he treats the soft spoken housekeeper.
I follow behind him as we enter a large room with a vintage feel. Old books stacked along the wall. A mini bar in the corner—not surprising. A large cherry oak desk that wouldn’t even fit in my old bedroom. He tilts his head to an empty chair as he walks behind the desk and takes a seat. Grabbing a cigar, he positions it between his teeth.
“Alright. Talk,” he demands.
“First of all, I want to know my dad’s place in all of this. When did he find out? How did he find out?” This is important information, the most important. I need to know why Dad kept this from me. The next words that Mike Porter speaks hold the fate of mine and Dad’s relationship.
“Your dad is a good man, Jasper.” He takes the cigar between his thumb and index finger, pointing it at me. “Everything he did was for you.”
“That’s not what I asked.” My jaw clamps down in annoyance. I can already tell that this is going to be a merry-go-round of half answered questions. “You murdered my mom, you fucking asshole. Now answer the damn question.”
“You know, it’s very possible that she swerved in my lane.” He bites down harder on the cigar, leaving the imprints of his teeth.
In one quick movement, I push the chair back and bolt to my feet. I lean over the desk, scattering a few papers with my hands as I force them down. “I will destroy you, you sick and twisted son of a bitch.”
He opens his mouth and looks like he’s going to yell, but collects the small bit of composure he may have. “Your dad hired a private investigator after the accident. Little did he know that the investigator he hired was on my payroll. I knew that if he came up empty handed, he’d keep digging, so I paid him a visit on my own.”
It makes sense that Dad would hire an investigator. He was distraught over the entire case being closed for lack of evidence. What doesn’t make sense is why this man is still sitting in front of me.
“So, what did you do? How could you convince a husband not to fight for justice against the man who murdered his wife?”
“Money. It’s what everyone wants. Money talks, son. Your poor family definitely needed it at that time.”
“There is no way that my dad would brush this all under the table for money.”
“He had no choice. Your mom left him with a debt bigger than the Grand Canyon. He was on the verge of losing everything. He was trying to get his construction company up and running. I paid his debts and promised him I’d take care of you financially. In exchange, he signed this contract.” He waves a paper in the air.
“So, now that we have that all laid out there. What do you want, Jasper?”
What do I want? I want you to rot in hell.
But that’s not all, I want more. Much more.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Blakely
Feeling like I can barely keep my eyes open, I blink twice to be sure I’m not deceived. Sure enough, I spot Jasper walking out of my house. He looks over at my vehicle coming down the road and picks up his pace until he finally reaches his car. I pick up my speed and pull up directly in front of him as he’s parked on the street. I climb out of the car quickly, in an attempt to speak with him before he backs out.
“Jasper, wait.” I shout, running to his side as he reaches for the door handle. “Please, we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing left to say. I have to go.” He swings the door open and climbs in as I notice a folder tucked underneath his arm. He must have been inside talking to Dad.
I watch as he slams the car in reverse and then he takes off.
I leave my vehicle parked where it is and run inside the house.
“Dad,” I yell, “Where are you?”
I know he’s here. I go straight to his study where he can be found most days when he is actually home, which has been too often lately.
The door is cracked open, so I let myself inside. He doesn’t even look up; he just grips a pen in his hand that keeps moving across whatever paper is in front of him.
“Take a seat, Blakely.”
“What did you say to Jasper?” I hiss, standing with arms crossed over my chest.
“My business is not yours.” He reaches out, handing me the paper that he was just writing on. “You’re free to go.”
I look down at the paper.
My trust fund account.
I’ve been named the trustee... of both mine and Talon’s accounts.
My jaw drops. “Free?” I look up from the paperwork.
Dad doesn’t make eye contact, which tells me he hasn’t been drinking. He doesn’t speak much when he’s sober, and when he does, he has a hard time with his words.
“I’ve failed you, Blakely. You and Talon both. When you came into my life, I had good intentions. But I haven’t been a good man and there is no excuse. I’m not asking for forgiveness; I’m just asking that you make your life more meaningful than I’ve made mine. Money is power. You have that power in your hands now.” He acknowledges the papers I’m holding. “Make the best of it, Blakely.”
As he stands up, he walks over to his packed luggage that he brings when he leaves for work. Just as he reaches for it, he turns around and kisses my forehead.
“Where are you going?” I choke out, feeling like this is more than a business trip.
“I’m leaving.” With that, he grabs his bag and leaves. He doesn’t turn around. I don’t go after him. When I hear the door close, I walk to the large picture window that overlooks the lawn, and I watch as he pulls out of the garage, down the road, and out of my life forever.
I look down at the paperwork and read through all of the fine print. Seven figures stare back at me. Signed and released into my name, available immediately.
Along with the trustee information for Talon’s account.
The trust created hereunder or any share shall become payable upon the receipt of a high school diploma, or upon the age of twenty-one years old, whichever shall come first.
I flip through a few more pages and find the deed to the house. This house that is now in my name.
I’m free. Talon and I are free!
I’ve lost my dad, but you can’t really lose something you’ve never had. I’m not completely heartless, I’ll always love him in some sort of way, same with my mom. But they are toxic to my mental health and when something toxic has a hold on you, you have to break away.
I head up to my room to call Knox. I really need my friend right now. I have so much that I need to tell him, though I’m sure he knows most of what’s happened. When I open the door, I notice the curtains open and something draws me to them. I look out and into Jasper’s room and he’s there.
He came back.
Only, he’s not alone.
Petra!
My heart sinks deep into the pit of my stomach. My throat feels constricted as I fight back the grief creeping up on me.
I’ve lost him.
Just when I started to fall, I crashed—I burned.
I stand there watching them as he pokes at her playfully, and she giggles. It looks like he is packing up boxes, and she’s helping him.
When I think that my heart couldn’t possibly handle any more pain, he looks at me. Not just any look—a dark stare as if he sees right through me, making me feel unworthy of his presence. He’s taken the throne. He’s a king—Petra’s king. I’m simply a peasant in their path.
Still fixed on me, he turns in a quick motion. Leaving his window open, he walks over and swoops Petra up as her legs wrap around him. He carries her over to the window with her back to me.
Don’t do it. I beg in silence. Please, don’t do it.
He does it.
His lips crash into hers and all I can see is the back of her head hiding his face. Until he tilts it just right and stares me down
as she kisses his neck. A single tear falls before I tear myself away from this torture chamber.
He’s packing boxes.
That means he’s leaving.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jasper
“Get your ass up, we’re leaving,” Marco barks in my ear.
I pull the blanket up over my head and mumble under my breath, “Not going.” I want him to hear me, so he’ll leave me alone. I also don’t want him to hear because I don’t feel like listening to him tell me all the reasons why I have to play tonight.
For a group of guys who felt like I cheated them by joining the Ravens, they sure do have a lot to say about missing one game—the last game.
“You are going. You’re going to play your ass off tonight and show the Bruins recruiter what you’re made of, and when the game ends, we’re getting shit faced. Party at my house tonight,” he hoots.
“Party at my house tonight.” He throws his arms up then takes a swig of his blue sports drink and screws the cap back on.
After I forced Mike Porter out of Nevada and he moved, to God knows where, I left Redwood. I’ve been staying on Marco’s couch. I couldn’t stay in that house any longer, especially with her so close. He offered me a large check, but I don’t want his dirty money.
I wanted to go to the cops, but I had no proof. I couldn’t go against a man with as much power as Mike Porter. I just wanted him far away from here. He couldn’t stand the thought of this going public. I don’t even think it was the law he was worried about; it was more about his reputation.
Aside from getting the hell out of here, I told him to let his family go and give them the chance to live—to recover.
I’m still furious with Blakely, but even she deserves to be free from the pain. I know that he did this to her. She had a voice, but he never gave her the chance to use it.
“Get ready and be outside in ten minutes,” Marco demands, tossing his empty bottle at me and walking away.
“Asshole!” I shout, throwing it at the back of his head, and missing.
LV had their last game of the season already, so all the boys are planning to watch me play tonight. I don’t even see the need for it. I don’t need the scholarship now, and I’m not even sure I want to play for the Bruins. Last week, my plan was to throw the game, but I’m not going to punish the entire school because a couple of students harbored a secret that twisted my fate.
After putting Blakely through the tortuous hell of our class project and then making her watch me make out with Petra from the comfort of her own home, I left that town. I still show up to school each day and avoid any conflict by keeping to myself, but Blakely and I haven’t spoken two words to each other.
Practices have been hell. Dad keeps trying to talk, but I’m not there yet. I just tell him to give it time. One day, I’ll be ready to hear his excuses, but not yet.
I can accept and move on, but forgiveness isn’t as easy for me. Dad’s lies hurt me so much more than the Porters’. I’ve always heard that it’s easier to lie to a loved one than a stranger, and now I’m aware that it’s also easier to forgive a stranger. Betrayal from someone you love cuts deeper than a stab in the back, it punctures the heart.
Don’t get me wrong, Mike Porter does not have my forgiveness, but he also doesn’t hold my truth anymore.
It’s only been a week, but I’m already feeling the weight of this burden slowly lift off of me. I spent so much time wondering, wishing, and searching. Now I have the answers and I have no choice but to accept them.
The Ravens sealed the blowout victory with a seventy-five-yard touchdown run. Forty-five to seventeen, and that’s a game.
We line up with the cheerleaders shake hands with the opponents and tell them good game. Even if they did play like shit, they made me look good tonight and something tells me that the recruiter is staring me down because he’s waiting to talk.
We all huddle together for a couple of last-game photos and then break apart.
“Your house tonight?” Kip looks to Axel.
He shakes his head. “Parents are home.”
“Knox?” Axel suggests. Like that’ll ever happen. Knox Burton throwing a party. I almost laugh, but I refrain.
“Not a chance.” He laughs for us both.
I instantly regret the words as they leave my mouth, “End of the game party at Marco’s.” I look to Blakely whose eyes shoot up from the grass she was digging her shoe in. “Everyone’s invited. 5050 Rose Blvd.”
Marco is either going to kill me for inviting these guys, or he will praise me for bringing these girls.
“Yes!” Axel hooks his arm around my neck. “I’ll bring the booze.”
Petra skip hops to my side with a grin on her face, turning back to the crowd. “You can all follow me. I’ve been there.” I watch as her words land on Blakely. They exchange a foul look and then both turn to me. Petra looks smug and pleased with herself for making it known, Blakely holds a strangled smile to try and express that the words didn’t touch her.
Petra was with me when I packed up and moved all my shit. It’s now back in boxes and stacked in Marco’s bedroom.
I know Petra got to her because, the next thing I know, Blakely’s walking away alone. I don’t know why I feel the need to make sure she comes tonight. Just being around her tears me in two. It’s torture. So, why do I crave more?
I’m in the thick of healing and don’t need to sink back down to rock bottom. The only way is up and out.
I give her a minute to get ahead, so she doesn’t think I’m following her, but the recruiter is still standing there tapping his shoe on the track. When I head toward him, I hear Knox. “Jasper,” he jogs to catch up, “Mind if I come?”
I haven’t talked to Knox at all. He tried to pull me aside at practice last week, but I brushed him off. I don’t even know his part in any of this and I’m not sure if I want to. Though, his constant reminders that a relationship between Blakely and I would end in disaster leads me to believe he knew something. We were never friends, but we recently were able to tolerate one another, and I don’t feel like beating his ass again.
“I said everyone’s welcome.” I keep walking in the opposite direction.
“Mr. Scott, great game. Listen,” he hooks an arm around my neck like we’re old friends, “I’ve been watching you play all season. I was a little disappointed to hear you were switching teams mid-season, but you pulled off the transition well. You joined the Ravens, and you continued to play with heart. That can be hard when relationships are formed, but you didn’t let it stop you. I like that.” He tips his head. “I’d like to set aside some time to talk about your future with the Bruins. How about we sit down with your dad… speaking of the coach,” he trails off as Dad joins my side. “Coach Scott, I was just telling your son that I’d like to set up a meeting and talk about his future at UCLA.”
Dad looks to me for approval.
Avoiding the awkward tension, I cut the conversation short. “I’ve got your card. How about if I give you a call Monday evening, and we can set something up?”
“I look forward to hearing from you. Good game tonight.” He looks from me to Dad before walking away.
Once he’s out of sight, Dad speaks, “He’s right. It was a good game. I’m proud of you, son.”
I fidget with my mouthpiece hanging from my helmet for a moment with my head hung low. “I’ve gotta go. See ya around.” I turn to walk away, but he stops me by grabbing a hold of my shoulder.
“Jasper, can we talk?” His voice is muffled, and as much as it hurts me to walk away without giving him a chance to talk, I really don't want to hear what he has to say. I may be healing from the situation, but I haven’t even touched the fresh wounds he opened up. I jar my shoulder out of his reach and keep walking.
“I tried,” he shouts through the crowd leaving the bleachers, “I tried to handle things differently.”
I stop, tipping my head back with my helmet hanging freely from my hand, sweat still po
oling around my hairline.
I can feel him walking closer.
“I went to the cops once I knew. I tried to have the case reopened. It didn’t do me any good. I couldn’t afford a lawyer, and nobody wanted to hear what I had to say.”
“That’s because he had someone on the inside,” I say with my back to him. I drop my helmet and lift my jersey over my head, so I can remove my shoulder pads. I’m sweating my ass off standing here. It may be fall, but in this uniform, it feels like a scorching summer night.
“In the end, I had to take care of what I had left… you.”
“She deserved more.” I spin around and meet him. “There was no justice.”
I know that I’m being somewhat of a hypocrite for judging him when I, myself, didn’t go to the authorities. It just hurts that I was in the dark for so long. That I fell for this man's daughter because Dad moved us next door to her.
“She did. She deserved so much more. My hands were tied. He offered to take care of you. To get my business up and running and I caved. It was wrong, I know this now.”
“None of this explains why you moved us to this town. Next to him… next to her.”
Dad places his hands on each of my shoulders and I fight the urge to break free. “Believe me when I tell you that this was all just a ridiculous coincidence. I knew he lived in Redwood, but I had no idea when Val and I started dating that they were neighbors. Hell, I didn’t even know when we moved in.”
“Would it have changed things? Would we have still moved here?” I look down at my cleats as I dig the soles into the soft ground.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Even if Mike Porter did get prosecuted, it would have been a slap on the wrist. I couldn’t go against someone with his wealth and social stature. I was the poor man from the wrong side of the tracks as far as they were concerned.”
“Even a slap on the wrist would have been something. It would have been some kind of justice and truth. But truth is rare in these towns, my own dad couldn’t even give it to me.”
