by J. S. Scott
I didn’t mind working hard. It’d done it my entire life. I had planned on rejecting my father’s support now that I had enough education to support myself. I just wasn’t sure I could get a position fresh out of college to support myself all that quickly. And I still didn’t have my diploma.
I strolled around the perimeter of the large room nervously, a space obviously meant for parties, but I didn’t talk to anyone. I was intimidated by this many wealthy people all in one big room, and I didn’t know why. Maybe because I’d had to worry about where my next meal was coming from my entire life. I had nothing in common with people who did.
I’m a computer nerd. I’d rather be working on something that matters.
The whole memorial thing felt pretentious and uncomfortable. Was that the way a daughter was supposed to feel when her wealthy father suddenly passed away from a heart attack?
I’ve had mixed emotions about my late father. He had been my blood, but he hadn’t supported my mother when I was a kid, and certainly not when I was a teenager after their divorce. Mom and I had lived poor while my father skipped out on any and all support to my mother. I resented those years when my mother and I had worked our asses off just to keep food on the table. However, when Mom had died near the end of my senior year in high school, my dad had finally stepped in to pay my way through college.
I really hadn’t seen him during the last four years as I’d earned my degree in Massachusetts, so nothing had really changed. But my tuition balance always got paid, and I’d had enough money for living expenses.
So really, I was grateful for my education, and how he’d contributed.
Getting a job at the bar in Massachusetts while I was getting my bachelor’s had been my idea, my way of saving. I’d counted pennies while I was in college, saving as much as possible in case my father decided, at any time, to cut me off.
After all, he’d never exactly been trustworthy. So the money coming in to pay my college fees had never been taken for granted.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have nearly enough in my bank account to support myself for any length of time.
All I’d needed was few more months, time to get my diploma and a fulltime programming job.
I snatched a couple more sandwiches, but I passed on the alcohol because my head was already buzzing, and the bubbly wine wasn’t doing a thing for my anxiety.
The appetizers had just gone into my mouth when I noticed a tall, male figure standing beside me.
I felt a light touch to my arm. “Katie? Are you okay?”
I turned, and then hastened to swallow.
Swallow, Katie. Swallow.
It was my stepbrother, Ben Blackwood. Honestly, I didn’t know him well. In fact, we’d only met a handful of times, most of our encounters recent, and involving my father’s funeral, but I was relieved to see somebody I knew.
I nodded, unable to speak because I had a mouthful of sandwiches to choke down. Ben Blackwood literally took my breath away. Aesthetically, he was so damn perfect. His dark hair and striking hazel eyes that seemed to change from moment-to-moment, mesmerized me. His perfectly ripped body filled out the custom suit he was wearing beautifully. His broad shoulders and massive chest made me wish we were closer. I’d have that perfect pair of muscular arms to throw myself into so I could sob out the sorrow that was locked inside me.
“I know you don’t know many of the people here,” he said in a regretful baritone.
I finally got the food down and found my voice. “That’s okay. My father and I weren’t exactly close.”
Not close like in…we never spoke at all.
My dad had never been around when I was kid, and I hadn’t seen him at all during college.
There were only the text messages that he’d started sending me after I’d gone off to college.
The only other thing that had been there was the money. But I supposed I had to be grateful that he had cared enough to make sure I was okay financially. He hadn’t needed to. God knew he’d gotten along just fine by ignoring me for the first eighteen years of my life.
“I’m really sorry,” Ben said sincerely. “Ian and I weren’t close to your father, either, but we had a father at one time.”
I knew my stepbrothers had loved their dad. Unfortunately, the father they’d loved had been killed in a car accident almost six years ago.
Ian Blackwood, my oldest stepbrother, had taken over Blackwood Technologies when his father had died. I’d never met Ian, and he hadn’t been able to make it home for my father’s funeral, but I couldn’t help but admire how he’d elevated the company since it had come under his and Ben’s leadership. The corporation had still been a computer technology leader when their father had been at the helm, but my stepbrothers had sent the Blackwood name into the stratosphere by picking edgier, savvier projects to develop.
Like the robotic surgery project that I’d give anything to be part of. Maybe someday…
Ben continued, “Maybe I can find Mom. I know she’d like to be with you.”
“No!” I said emphatically. “I’m good.”
I saw a tray of full glasses pass by, and I had to force myself not to take one.
The last thing I wanted was to hang out with my stepmother. She was nice enough, and I knew she meant well, but being with her made me uncomfortable. I was still mourning Mom, even though it had been four years now since she’d died. It felt awkward to be with my father’s second wife, even though she’d been nothing but polite to me.
“Were they happy together?” I asked before I could keep the words from flying out of my mouth.
Ben gave me a weak smile. “I have no idea. Mom rarely talked about your father. They seemed to do their own thing a lot after about the first six months of their marriage.”
Ben was hedging. I could see it in his expressive eyes. But I supposed it wasn’t good to speak ill of the dead, especially on the day of his funeral.
I nodded, accepting the fact that I was never going to know my father through my stepbrother. More than likely, Ben resented him. And I certainly didn’t blame him for that. My dad had been a user, and he’d used their mother’s money like he’d earned it himself, which he hadn’t. My father had never really worked a day in his life.
“How long are you going to be in Florida?” Ben asked gently.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I should go back to Massachusetts for the next few months. I don’t have to because I finished my classes last semester, so I’m open. I guess I’m on a job hunt for a programming gig wherever I can find one now.”
All I’d really needed was a couple more months of my dad’s support. Long enough to get something full-time in my field.
I knew I wasn’t going to get more hours from the bar and grill where I worked in Massachusetts. I’d tried. There was nothing more available. I’d basically been biding my time until I could snag my diploma, and start the search for a better job before I entered a master’s program.
I’d grown up in the Fort Myers area, and I’d always planned on moving back some day. I loved the balmy winters here. And it was…home. Now that my best friend, Ariel, was back in the area, I wanted to be here, too. She was the closest thing to family that I had.
“I just happen to know a technology company right here in South Florida who could use your talent,” Ben said with a smile.
Blackwood would be my dream job. But I didn’t aspire to get into a tech giant as a new programmer, even though I was graduating at the very top of my class.
And I know I can pass the Blackwood certification exam.
Most new programmers didn’t bother with applying to Blackwood Technologies because their certification test to enter the company was pure hell. Hard enough for an experienced programmer to get through, much less a newbie fresh out of college with no work experience.
What I didn’t have in experience and education was made up for in my private studies and personal projects. I’d been capable of programming before I’d even entered college.
I raised an eyebrow. “Nepotism at Blackwood Technologies?”
His smile turned into a genuine grin. “Not at all. We aren’t blood related, and you’re obviously talented.”
“I’ll wait and apply on my own when I get my master’s or some experience,” I told him with a small smile.
“You’re doing a higher degree?” he asked with surprise.
I nodded. “I want to get my master’s in software engineering. I’m working on a private project to improve robotics.”
“That would be right up our alley,” Ben said thoughtfully. “You realize we have a dedicated team for the development of robotic surgery, right? It’s one of the projects that Ian is working on.”
I nodded. “I know. You’re doing incredible work. It’s not like I wouldn’t love to be on that team, even as an assistant. But I need to finish my master’s before I’ll be ready for that.”
I’d do almost anything to be part of the Blackwood team, but Ian Blackwood only had the best working on the specialized robotics team. And on paper, I wasn’t anywhere near their caliber.
I didn’t want to do coding forever as a programmer. I was already working on software projects on my own time, but I needed the degree to get to where I wanted to be in the future.
Maybe it was cliché, but I really wanted to make a difference in the world. That’s all I’d ever really wanted.
“Good for you,” he said sincerely. “You always were smart, Katie. How many people graduate as valedictorian in high school, and the top of their class in college, too?”
Only students like me who have nothing better to do than study and work.
I was pretty sure that Ben was trying to find a nice way of saying I was a geek. With my long brown hair, brown eyes, my out-of-shape body, and my unimpressive chest measurements, I was the quintessential academic overachiever. I’d often told myself that it was better to be smart than pretty, but I would have chosen to have both of them if I’d had that choice. Unfortunately, my brains were about all I had going for me.
The moment started to turn awkward when I couldn’t find a single thing to say. I wasn’t all that good with casual conversation, especially in an atmosphere I knew nothing about.
I’d always been a poor girl.
The Blackwood family had always been ridiculously wealthy.
My reality and my stepbrother’s were polar opposites.
“Are you sure you don’t want to consider a job with Blackwood?” he asked.
I shook my head. “My days of Blackwood supporting me are over. I’m twenty-two years old. I’m graduating with a degree. I’m grateful for that. I’ll find a decent job.”
“Blackwood supported you?” Ben asked, sounding perplexed.
“My father was paying for my education that wasn’t covered by scholarships,” I explained. “And he didn’t exactly work for that money himself.”
“He was?” The gorgeous Ben looked even more confused. “I thought he never even paid your mom’s child support. My mom was livid when she found the paperwork proving that your father had never paid your mother a dime.”
“He didn’t. I guess he had a change of heart when my mom died. He helped me through my bachelor’s.”
“That’s…surprising,” Ben said cautiously.
“I never really understood it myself,” I answered. “Maybe he felt guilty.”
“Maybe,” Ben said, sounding unconvinced that my dad had changed his freeloading ways.
We were interrupted by a woman pushing through the crowd around us calling Ben’s name.
I watched my stepbrother’s expression. It revealed little emotion about the gorgeous blonde woman coming our way.
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” I told Ben, freeing him so he could chat with the woman who looked like a supermodel.
Ben leaned closer. “Never forget that you have allies, Katie. I might not be your blood, but I’m still your stepbrother. You can ask me for anything you need. We can get you through your master’s program.”
I knew his words were meant to be comforting and kind, but I wasn’t feeling the brotherly love, no matter how much I wished that I had a sibling right now. I was pretty sure I’d developed some kind of crush on Ben Blackwood over the few days we’d spent together arranging the funeral, and the last thing I associated with him was being family.
I had no family anymore.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, then started pushing my way through the people surrounding me on all sides.
Ben’s words had made me remember just how alone I was at the age of twenty-two, and my body had suddenly started to react violently.
My heart was racing, and my vision was blurred as I tried to escape through the dense crowd of people in my way.
No family.
I have nobody.
My mom’s side had pretty much washed their hands of her when she’d married my father. None of them had liked him—for good reason, so I wasn’t close to anybody related to my mother. Most of the ones still alive were distant relations, anyway. And my father didn’t have family that would claim him…or me.
All I had was these strangers who treated my father’s funeral more like a party, and my stepfamily.
The Blackwoods weren’t blood, nor did I really know any of them.
I didn’t belong.
I’d never been part of the Blackwood family because they weren’t mine to care about.
I felt claustrophobic as I pushed my way toward the exit to the patio, reality crashing down on me with a vengeance.
No! This doesn’t happen to me anymore. Dammit! Not now.
I knew I was having a panic attack, and I was helpless to stop the encroaching fear that was manifesting within my body, causing physical symptoms I couldn’t control.
It had been a long time since I’d experienced a full-blown panic attack, but I knew I’d never forget exactly how it felt, and I recognized the frightening symptoms of my anxiety because I’d been in this state before.
“I have to calm myself down,” I huffed as I stumbled away from the patio and down toward the water. The welcoming darkness beyond the lights of the mansion and the veranda beckoned me to keep moving forward until I could completely escape.
My father had never been a dad to me, but at least he’d been living and helping me get through college.
Now, I was truly and completely alone.
I dropped to my ass when I arrived at the Blackwood dock, not only because I couldn’t go any farther without ending up in the Gulf, but because I was shaking too hard to continue. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that I’d lost my low black heels on my journey to the water, but I didn’t care.
All I wanted was control over my physical self.
I hated the helplessness that came with knowing I wasn’t in control of my body.
I gulped for air as I heard the water hitting the dock all around me. It wasn’t the first time I’d experienced a panic attack, but every one of them was still terrifying.
Since it had been a long time since I’d experienced my last physical episode, I’d thought they’d disappeared forever.
I was wrong.
My body wasn’t my own as I stared into the darkness, my heart racing, my vision still unclear, and my breathing ragged.
I should be used to the short periods of losing control. They’d started when my mother had died suddenly over four years ago, and over time, they had settled down with the use of medication and the low cost therapy I’d sought out in Massachusetts. But during the last couple of days, I’d suffered through my fear and stress alone, and my body was using the protective mechanism that would release that tension.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I focused on simply getting air in and out of my lungs at a deeper and slower pace, like I’d been taught. I consciously tried to relax every taut muscle while I continued to suck on the salt air around me.
Slowly, my body started to return to normal function, and my vision began to come back into
focus. My heartrate decelerated after a few minutes, and I began to relax after I’d stopped trying to fight my attack, which only made things worse.
The reality of my father’s death was finally hitting me hard, and I allowed myself to feel every emotion now that the episode was subsiding.
I let myself fall gently backward, and I lay on the wooden surface, feeling completely wiped out.
I always felt this way after my own body had chewed me up and spit me out.
I sobbed out all of my loneliness as I finally felt the pain of being alone in the world, instead of keeping it all inside my tense frame as I did for the last several days.
No one could see me, nor did anybody care if I was scared and heartbroken.
I curled up in a fetal position, not feeling the slight chill of the ocean breeze while I was swamped with sadness.
Maybe I was only mourning the relationship that I didn’t have with my dad, but mostly, I just felt like an outsider in a world where everybody had somebody… except me.
I finally sat up in the darkness, lulled by the lapping of the Gulf waters against the dock.
“I have friends. And I have Ariel,” I said firmly, trying to cease my stupid pity party. “I’ll be fine. I’m not really alone.”
Maybe I hadn’t made very many new friends in Massachusetts, but I still kept in touch with my childhood best friend here in Florida, and I planned on seeing her as soon as possible. I’d wanted to get done with the funeral before we met up.
I sighed. Ariel had wanted to be here for me today, but she had a boss who was a major jerk, and she hadn’t been able to get out of working unless she quit. And there was no way I was going to allow that to happen to her.
I stumbled to my feet after an unknown period of time rocking myself to the rhythm of the waves hitting against the wooden structure.
Part of me hated myself for giving in to my emotions. No matter how I felt inside, I’d learned to hide the negative, sad stuff away. I kept my head up like my mom had taught me to do, and relied on my own intelligence to get by.
Maybe I was inelegant in social situations, but I was gifted in other ways, so I needed to get a grip. I’d take care of myself without relatives. I’d never really had a father anyway, right?
