“Jamie …” I thought I could do this, mete out a little justice, but maybe I wasn’t built for it, after all.
“Do you know I can’t go to the movies anymore? Something about the darkness and being trapped in a row of seats fucks me up.”
Surprised he was telling me that, I turned to him.
His eyes were hard, filled with bitterness. “I don’t like elevators. I can’t stand being stuck in traffic. Flights are a nightmare. I need the windows open in my bedroom at night, and, even then, after years of being unable to sleep in that cell, it still takes me forever to fall asleep. I get a couple hours a night at most.”
Prison had made Jamie claustrophobic and an insomniac.
Anguish filled me. “What else happened to you in there, Jamie?”
His ocean eyes turned stormy. “Not that. But there was nothing I could do when it happened to other guys. Guys younger than me, with no one to protect them. Irwin kept me safe, but the price of that was keeping my nose clean and out of everyone else’s business. I didn’t …” Jamie wrenched his gaze away, probably because the haunted look on his face was bringing tears to my eyes. “Steadman made me realize there were evil bastards out there … but there were a few prisoners who made me realize there are people in the world who take it to the next level. They take what they want, and they don’t care who they hurt, as long as their needs are satisfied. Spending five years avoiding scum of the earth and feeling guilty for not doing anything to protect guys more vulnerable than me, it screws with your head …”
My heart was breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me this back then?”
His expression flattened. He scoffed. “Because I thought I was protecting you.”
“Jamie—”
“Elena Marshall is one reason I lost five years of my life. That I now have a criminal record. If I didn’t have my writing, I’d be struggling below minimum wage, doing shitty jobs under shitty employers willing to look the other way regarding my record so they could justify their shittiness.” His tone was cold again, controlled. “I need you to attend the support group and connect with Elena. You’ll find out personal details of her life, and we’ll use that information to hit her where it hurts.”
Hearing just a generalized summary of what Jamie had gone through, what he’d seen, I knew the details were probably much worse. My anger for him chipped away at my uncertainty. But using a cancer support group made my stomach lurch. “Jamie, you cannot think that it’s okay to use people going through what they’re going through to get to Elena. I know you can’t.”
“Of course, I don’t,” he spat. “But I’m willing to do what it takes to get this done. I’m willing to bear the burden of my actions. Are you? Are you in or are you out, Jane?”
“Spending five years avoiding scum of the earth and feeling guilty for not doing anything to protect guys more vulnerable than me, it screws with your head …”
Suddenly, I was nineteen again and looking at Jamie through Plexiglas.
“I need to know you’re okay.”
“Do you love me?”
“You know I do. You’re my everything.”
“Then I’m okay. He thought he took everything from me … but he didn’t take you, and you’re all that fucking matters. So I’m okay. It’ll get easier, Doe.”
He had lied. To protect me.
I nodded, despite the nausea in my gut. “I’m in.”
The tension drained out of Jamie, and he turned the ignition. Strained silence settled between us as he drove back toward the studio. Jake, the security guard, waved us through. Jamie parked near the soundstage door.
I unclipped my seat belt.
“If you tell me why you and Asher Steadman have been pretending to be in a relationship, maybe I can try to trust you again.”
Disbelief stopped my departure. It really felt like Jamie had rewritten our history. He acted like I was the one who had broken up with him. “It’s not my secret to tell. And I’m not the one in this relationship that broke us. I don’t need to win back your trust. It’s the other way around, Jamie.”
His eyebrows hit his hairline and he let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “I broke your trust? You want me to trust you when you’re protecting Asher Steadman over me?”
I shook my head at the childish dig. “It’s not like that. I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to, but because it’s not my right to tell you.”
Jamie considered this. “Are you his beard? Is he gay?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
“Then what is it?”
“Jamie—”
“You think you can trust this guy more than you can trust me?”
Was he serious? “You haven’t given me any reason to trust you. You have me on your Monte Cristo hit list. Asher has been like family to me these past three years.”
He sneered. “Asher Steadman is screwing with you, Jane. He told you he was helping you, right? That he would find something on his father that would help bring him down?”
“How did you know that?” How had he known I was going after Steadman in the first place?
“Am I right?”
I didn’t respond.
Jamie leaned toward me, his voice lowered to a deep growl. “You put all your trust in that bastard, but he’s never been helping you. He’s been deliberately sabotaging your attempts.”
Nausea rose inside me at the accusation, and I could feel the color draining from my face. No. No way. Jamie was just saying that to mess with my head. Asher was my friend. He was the one person in my life I could count on.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. If you’re so sure, why don’t you ask him.”
Needing to get away from him, I threw open the passenger door and practically jumped out, slamming it shut as hard as I could. I didn’t waste another glance on Jamie as I hurried into the hangar.
I loved Asher.
He would never hurt me like Jamie had hurt me.
JAMIE
* * *
Watching Jane disappear into the studio, my fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
That morning, I’d woken up thinking about her. She was the first thing that popped into my head. I could even smell her on me.
Probably because I hadn’t showered, not wanting to wash her away just yet.
Jane was messing everything up.
My focus was shot to pieces.
It was like we were kids again, and all I could think about was her. From the moment I realized I wanted her, that’s how it had been between us. She was a constant thought in the back of my head, my every decision orbiting around her. And when she was in the room, I was aware of her every move.
I wanted to hate her.
Needed to.
Yet, I couldn’t stop remembering that moment of peace as I melted inside her.
Everything had been quiet and pain-free—perfect—for the first time in seven years.
Skye warned me that needing someone the way I needed Jane would only cause sorrow in the end.
She was right.
Because I wanted that feeling of peace back. I wanted another taste.
And I was afraid I might do anything for it.
Something stupid. Something that would ruin everything.
Something like forgiving her.
Chapter 26
JANE
* * *
Headlights flared, passing me on the 101 as I drove to Asher’s Malibu beach house. Work had kept me at the studio late, so the highway wasn’t clogged with traffic, but it was still busy.
I wondered where the strangers who passed me were going, and if they were just as afraid of their destination as I was. I hoped not. My palms were sweaty around the steering wheel and I couldn’t get my heart to slow. I didn’t want to believe Jamie was right. It was easier to think he was just trying to wound me again than to imagine that Asher had been playing me the whole time.
If one more person I loved screwed me over, I
didn’t know how I’d handle it.
Would I break?
My grip tightened on the wheel.
Or would I go numb?
Neither possibility sounded appealing.
Pulling up to the gates, I hit the clicker Asher had given me. The gates swung slowly open; I drove in as a tall figure stepped out of the open front door. The house was built in the 1950s and was of typical mid-century architecture. It sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean and had a private path that led down onto the beach.
Getting out of my car, my knees shook a little as I walked toward my best friend. His brow furrowed, most likely because I hadn’t texted him to let him know I was on my way.
“Hey, baby.” His tone was cautious, as though he could read my reason for being there in my body language.
“Have you been sabotaging my efforts to find incriminating evidence on Foster?”
Asher’s eyes widened slightly.
Then I saw something in them that made me want to throw up.
Fear.
Guilt.
I squeezed my eyes closed, tears thick in my throat.
No, please, no.
“Jane, come in so I can explain.” I felt him take my arm and then I was stumbling into the house.
The open-plan living space, the sunken living room that led into the kitchen, and the long bank of bifold doors that opened to a deck overlooking the ocean, suddenly didn’t feel like the safe place it had felt for me these past few years.
I’d loved spending time at Asher’s. He’d even given me my own room.
Wrenching my elbow out of his grip, I spun on him. “Tell me everything.”
“Will you sit down?” Asher gestured to the sofa. “Please.”
Blood rushing in my ears, I walked down into the seating area and perched on the end of the couch. Asher took the armchair next to me and leaned his elbows on his knees. His expression was so earnest.
Yet wasn’t he about to tell me he’d screwed me over?
He exhaled slowly. “Jane, there are a few reasons I pretended to be investigating my father for you.”
There it was.
My hands clenched into fists on my knees.
“One, I was afraid if he got suspicious, he’d start figuring out who you were. Two, I was afraid of hurting my mother in all this. The third reason … I can’t explain the third reason, but I will eventually.”
“You will eventually? What does that mean?”
“I can’t tell you.” He sat forward, his expression desperate. “But you have to believe me when I say that I didn’t lie to hurt you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“No.” I stood, needing physical distance. “You were protecting your family.” Jamie was right. Jesus Christ. A sob caught in my throat. I couldn’t trust anyone.
“Jane, how did you find out?”
I whirled on Asher and he flinched at my expression. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Were you investigating me?”
“No.” I’d let him think what he wanted. There was no way I could trust him to know that Jamie was in LA trying to get revenge against Foster. The thought of Asher telling Foster about Jamie made me feel sick. Thank God I’d decided not to confide in him. The consequences didn’t even bear thinking about.
“Jane—”
I held up a hand against whatever else he would say. What other pitiful excuses he’d give for making a fool out of me. I stared into his dark eyes. Dark eyes that used to make me feel safe. “There have been only two men that I have ever loved. Jamie. You. Two. And both of you broke my heart.” I moved toward the door.
“Jane!” Asher grabbed my arm and I jerked out of his hold, stumbling back.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
“One day I’ll explain,” he promised, determination hardening his features.
I wanted to believe him, but I was too afraid to.
The drive back to Silver Lake was a blur. I couldn’t remember getting from Asher’s beach house to my building. Emotions had me reeling. Noting Jamie’s Porsche in his parking spot, I walked upstairs to our floor and knocked on his door.
Footsteps sounded behind it.
Then he was there. Leaning against the door frame, expressionless as he took in my tear-stained face.
“You were right,” I told him dully.
Jamie just stared pitifully at me.
I curled my upper lip. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him how I found out. Although I’d be interested to know how you found out.”
He smirked and gave a slight shake of his head.
That smirk … that stupid little smirk in the face of my pain hurt worse than anything so far since he’d come back into my life. I stumbled back. “You don’t even care. You don’t even care that this hurts me.”
Something flickered in Jamie’s eyes as he straightened up from the door frame. “Do you love him?”
Would it wound him if I had? “I thought I did.”
Jamie clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping to the floor, probably to hide whatever it was he felt.
I scoffed. “You asked me if I love him. You didn’t ask me if I was in love with him.” There’s a big difference, Jamie.
His eyes met mine. “Are you in love with him?”
Did he deserve to even know the answer?
Shouldn’t I torture him a little?
I slumped, so goddamn weary, I couldn’t stand it. “No. And I never have been.”
There’s only one man I have ever been in love with.
When he continued to stare at me, not giving anything away, hoarding his thoughts and feelings to himself, I fought the urge to shove him. To slap him. To scream at him.
But that wasn’t me.
I wouldn’t let him turn me into that person.
With a snort of derision, I turned on my heel, walked toward my apartment, and stuck my key in the door. “Text me what I need to know about Elena.” Before he could respond, I stepped inside and slammed the door behind me.
Agitation boiled my blood as I stalked through my apartment, restless and uneasy. I had an urge to curl up in a ball and sob for days.
But that wasn’t me anymore.
Yes, I’d lost everything that mattered to me six years ago. However, I’d survived it.
“You survived it,” I reminded myself, fists clenched at my side.
I would survive losing Asher.
I would survive once Jamie got what he’d come to LA for and left me again.
I wouldn’t go numb to protect myself.
And no one … no one would break me.
Asher tried to call. Jamie too. He even knocked on my apartment door a few times.
I ignored all of it and attempted to concentrate on the day-to-day routine of working on set and on a painting underway at home for an art gallery in San Francisco. However, I didn’t ignore Jamie’s text with the information on Elena Marshall. After several days away from Jamie, and having worked through the weekend and most of the week on Patel’s movie, I took Thursday off. Around lunchtime, I got in my car and drove to the hospital in Hollywood.
After I parked, I strolled to the yellow building. My steps slowed as I neared it. Once inside, a receptionist directed me to the room I was looking for, but when I stopped outside the double doors and stared in through the inset windowpanes, I found I couldn’t go any farther.
As much as I wanted to help Jamie find some peace, the idea of infiltrating a cancer support group made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t go in and pretend to be there because a loved one was suffering. It was a betrayal to the others who had come to that group to find people who understood what they were going through.
My gaze zeroed in on Elena. She’d been in her late thirties when she testified against Jamie. A perfectly ordinary woman, she’d worked night shift at the twenty-four-hour mini-mart for six years before Steadman paid her to lie. Jamie and I never knew if she’d known she’d get shot that night, but we surmised it had always been part of the p
lan because it meant a longer sentence for Jamie.
Right then, she leaned across from her chair to hold the hand of a young woman who was crying as she spoke. It was an act of kindness. Of comfort. Elena’s eyes were sad but warm as she gave the girl’s hand a squeeze.
I remembered at the time when she testified against Jamie in court that she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would persecute an innocent man. I didn’t care then, though. At nineteen, there were no shades of gray in the case against Jamie. As far as I was concerned, everyone involved in framing him was wicked and cruel.
The rage I’d felt toward her the day she stood on the stand and identified Jamie as the man who had shot her had cooled a lot since then. Now I longed for answers. I wanted to make sense of this woman’s choices. I wanted to know if what she’d already been through would satisfy Jamie.
Would it satisfy me?
However, I couldn’t go in there.
Every time I went to push inside, I faltered and paced outside the doors, trying to drum up the courage to walk in. It never came. Frustrated, I slumped down on a chair outside the room and buried my head in my hands. There had to be another way to get close to Elena without disrespecting a room filled with strangers.
Skye would not agree with this, and considering half the reason I was still on Jamie’s side in all this was because of Skye, I couldn’t go through with it. She was the voice in the back of my head. If it had all been about Skye and not Jamie, I wouldn’t be doing any of it because Skye wouldn’t want it. She’d want Jamie and I to move on and live our lives.
I knew that with absolute certainty.
But Jamie couldn’t do that, so here I was. Helping him.
Or failing at helping him.
The feel of a hand on my shoulder brought my head up. Startled, I stared into the warm brown eyes of Elena Marshall. Taken aback, I realized that the support group had dispersed, a few shooting me curious looks as they departed.
“Are you okay?” Elena sat on the chair beside me. “I saw you hovering outside the entire time.”
Keep This Promise Page 221
