by Kate Benson
I’m already dialing the number as I step off the plane. When it goes unanswered, I can’t say I’m surprised. I leave a message and send out a group text, checking in with the others as I make my way to the long line of taxis waiting just outside.
By the time I pay the driver and step back out onto the driveway, the sun is rising over the water and this place no longer feels like home.
But then, it hasn’t felt like home in months.
I step through the front door, the note I’d left behind still sitting stagnant, untouched. There are pieces of her everywhere, the same pieces that have remained since the night I found her lying breathless against the tile. Pieces I never found the strength to move until I knew she’d be okay.
It’s been months and all those pieces remain just as stagnant as my letter.
I do a quick sweep, finding nothing, just as I feared the moment I stepped inside. I move mechanically through the house, replacing the clothes I’d packed five days ago with fresh ones after a rushed shower and a few texts. By the time I slip into her car, swallowing the emotions inhaling her scent slam into my chest, an hour has passed, and the meeting I was praying for has been set in less than five.
For the first time in two days, I have hope.
Analise
My eyes pop open and for a moment, I’m completely disoriented before I realize I’ve been crying.
This isn’t so different from how I’ve been waking up lately, the depression and heartache I’ve been experiencing almost feels normal most days.
This is different, though.
This time, it isn’t blue eyes haunting me, but green.
Sophie.
I’m still so livid with her, so completely betrayed she could ever deceive me. If I’m honest, though, even in those dark moments in the hospital just before I fled, the moments I saw her words right in front of me, something about it never added up.
I didn’t want to acknowledge that part.
What she did was wrong, plain and simple.
I didn’t want the weaknesses that came with love to infiltrate my heart and make me second guess my anger.
I didn’t want to forgive her at all.
Maybe I don’t even want that now.
However, for the first time in two months, my thoughts seem lucid, like they’re finally mine again. I’m not focused on the possible betrayal, but the girl who saved me so many times before. Still, after all these days of trying to hate her, I can’t make it all add up.
Sophie stuck with me through everything. Through losing Jack, Maverick’s cheating, the highs and lows that came with falling in love with Drake. She was willing to die for me in a parking lot and later, when my fear almost caused me to lose the love of my life, it was Sophie who encouraged me to follow my heart.
Even if I take away the deep love I know she’s always had for Chase, even if I take away the laundry list of things she’d said against Drake in my defense the few times he’d faltered in the past, something deep inside me says there’s no way Sophie would ever betray me in the ways it seems she has.
Sophie is emotional, moody and outspoken. She does most things with her heart on her sleeve and makes me madder than almost anyone else can. I know she’s done something deceitful, kept something from me she shouldn’t have, but adultery?
I’m just not sure she has it in her.
Especially not when it comes to me.
The reality of that hits me hard and I can’t help but swallow hard at the emotion it forces into my chest all over again. I can’t say I’m ready to forgive and forget, not by a long shot, but after days of sitting in the dark, my thoughts consuming me on every level, I might just be ready to stop hiding.
I need answers and there’s only one person who can give them to me.
To get to him, though, I need help.
There’s only one person here who can help me with that, too.
My stomach turns at the thought of reaching out, especially while I’m so vulnerable, but I force the thoughts away as quickly as they come.
I needed time to lay low, to lick my wounds and I took it.
The time for hiding has come to an end.
Now, I want answers.
Finally, I know exactly how to get them.
With a deep but shaky breath, I reach for the cheap phone I’d left on the table, grateful when I find the battery still has a little life left in it. I dial the number and shake my head with silent resentment, one piece of me hating that I still know it by heart, another praying it pays off.
When the third ring goes unanswered, I’m about to hang up, but the sound of a click on the line followed by a light scuffle stops me in my tracks. My eyes drift shut as I release the breath I’ve held in.
“Who the hell is this?” he answers groggily, his gruff voice filled with sleep and annoyance.
“It’s me,” I answer, biting my lip. “It’s Ana.”
“Ana,” he repeats, his voice softer now, the low hum leaving his chest making me shake my head. “It’s real good to hear your voice, baby. I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think I’d be hearing it for a little while longer.”
“For what it’s worth, neither did I.”
“Yeah, I bet you didn’t,” he replies, his blunt words softened by a tone I’ve not heard from him often. “There’s a whole lot of people lookin’ for you, sugar,” he continues, his tone remaining thoughtful as I hear him shifting on the other side, presumably sitting up beside whoever he conned into his bed last night. “You could’ve called any of them…”
“Yeah, but I called you.”
“But you called me,” he repeats. The line goes quiet for a moment as he waits, while I gain my courage. I’m considering hanging up altogether when his voice springs back to life once more. “Whatcha goin’ through over there, baby?” he asks low. “You got money now. You got people… what you need from me you ain’t already got?”
“Help,” I whisper, my eyes glassy with emotion as I move them toward the sky, the silent prayer filling me before my eyes drift shut and I swipe the traitor tear from my skin. “I need your help.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jack
As she shifts gently beside me, the impending blaze of the alarm only minutes away, I can’t help but instinctually reach for her.
I pull her back to my chest, expecting her airy giggle. When it doesn’t come and is replaced by her hand reaching for me, giving my leg an affectionate pat over the covers and nothing more, one eye drifts open to find her gaze locked on her phone.
“What’s up?” I ask, stifling a yawn as I rub my eyes awake. She returns my question with silence and I sit up on my elbows, aiming for a better look. “Babe,” I say quietly, gently pinching her side. This time, she hears me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she nods, setting her phone onto the table beside her and shaking her head clear before she rolls over onto her back and finds my eyes. “I’m sorry. Yes, everything is fine.”
Her eyes are reserved, making it clear there’s something she’s not saying, something weighing on her mind she’s not yet ready to share. She’ll tell me when she’s ready and pushing her never works. I’ve figured out that much, at least.
“Okay,” I manage, hating her hesitance, but knowing it’s nothing personal. I glance over at the clock, cursing how our time together never seems to last long enough. “Is Eli up yet?” I ask with another yawn, relishing in her blue eyes as they search mine and she shakes her head. “Then we’ve got about ten minutes,” I announce quietly, falling back against the sheets and pulling her down with me, that airy giggle I’d been craving finally making its appearance. “Stay in bed and make the best of it with me.”
I pull her close to my chest, savoring in the way her body rests against mine with such ease. I cradle her with my hands, one falling on her hair while the other grips her thigh, holding it in place over my waist. I release a low sigh of content and a moment later, she follows suit and I begin to drift off. Her mind is still racing
with whatever held her attention only a moment ago. I can feel the tension rolling off, but I know better than to say anything.
Instead, I simply hold her closer.
“Love you,” she whispers, her lips pursing against my jawline helping me sink further into the mattress, further into her.
“I love you, too, baby,” I reply, bending to kiss her hair. “Very much.”
Her eyes are on me now, I feel them with my eyes closed just as clearly as I can taste her sweet breath against my chest. She’s working up her courage and I let her. When nothing comes for a long moment, my eyes flutter open and I find hers, my thumb stroking over her skin as I hold her gaze.
“You good?” I ask, pulling a nod from her, though this time, the hesitance is even clearer than it had been only moments before. “You sure?”
“I don’t know,” she admits with a shrug, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek.
My gaze moves over her features, admiring each one before they come back to her blue eyes still staring into me.
“Wanna talk?”
“Okay,” she finally answers, releasing another sigh. “I got a job offer and it’s really good.”
“Seriously?” I ask, the wide smile stretching over my lips of its own accord as she nods her answer.
“Good enough that if I play my cards right, I won’t ever have to tend bar again,” she continues, making my eyes widen further.
“Baby, that’s amazing!” I beam, pulling her lips to mine to give her a chaste kiss that makes her cheeks go crimson almost instantly. “I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she replies quietly, her distracted demeanor telling me she’s still locked deep in thought, that there’s still more to say. Her fingertips trace my jaw and she swallows hard, returning her eyes to mine. “There’s a catch.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my hands absentmindedly moving over her, waiting as patiently as I can. “What’s the catch?”
“It’s in Chicago,” she finally admits, her eyes darting away for a moment as she swallows hard and faces me once more. “If I take it, I’d have to relocate.”
“Chicago?” I ask, my voice as shaky as my chest feels. Instinctively, I hold her closer, hating the way she nods her answer. “That’s pretty far, babe.”
“Yeah. Yes, it is,” she agrees, her soft voice cracking with the same emotion currently burrowing into my chest. “You could come with us?”
I stare down at her, searching her eyes, searching my heart, my mind, to give her any answer other than the inevitable one.
But I can’t find one.
I can’t find one and the reality of that instantly crushes everything inside my chest.
“Jenna, I ca-” I start, but it’s too hard, the emotion inside me destroying every ounce of strength I thought I had as I pull her closer to my chest, holding onto her for dear life. “If I could, we both know I would go with you in a minute,” I manage, my chest swarming with so much internal agony, I’m not sure the next breath will ever come. “Baby, I hate what’s comin’, but…”
“I know,” she cuts me off, pulling away to reveal the same tears building in her eyes as mine. She rests her hand on my jaw, swallowing a quiet sob as I cover her hand with mine. “I know, Jack. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I argue immediately, shaking my head as I pull her as close as I can get her. “It’s not okay.”
“Yeah,” she admits through a shaky breath. “I know that, too.”
Her hands cling to my sides, her cheek resting just right against my chest as her breathing begins to fall in time with my pounding heart. The alarm beside us shrieks to life and I shut it off, returning to my place beside her, refusing to release her before I have no choice.
“You’re gonna take it, right?” I ask, swallowing hard. “I mean, you have to take it, Jen.”
“Yeah,” she manages, her voice so low I almost miss the way it breaks as I nod silently.
“Yeah,” I whisper, giving her thigh another squeeze. “How long do we have?”
She moves her head from my chest, her eyes filled with apology as she stares into mine, studying my features just as hard as I’m studying hers.
“Not very long,” she whispers, the lines of her face going hazy with the unshed tears filling my eyes as I force myself to hold them back and nod my answer. “I start a week from Monday.”
“Okay,” I manage, clearing my throat and pressing my lips to hers. “Then we make the best of what we’ve got until then.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Drake
The air outside is thick as I pull up to valet. A quick glance at my watch tells me I’ve arrived a few minutes early and I release a low sigh of relief, grateful at least one thing has worked in my favor.
My body aches with exhaustion, the effects of the short nap I managed during the last couple hours of the fifteen-hour flight back from Paris having long since worn off. I trace the familiar black hair band she’d always kept on the gear shift and swallow the emotion the inconsequential item brings before I reach for the handle to the door on the Mercedes and force myself out.
Once my flight landed, I called the hospital, David, everyone I could think of hoping they’d fared better than I had. By the time my taxi pulled up at the near abandoned place we’d called home for the bulk of our marriage, though, I realized I’d traveled halfway around the world and gotten no further than if I’d stayed right here.
I was in and out of our house in less than an hour, gratitude coursing through me when I received confirmation that potential help was in the area. Now, as I approach the entrance of the familiar upscale restaurant I’d taken her to a half dozen times before it all came crashing down, I can only hope the next hour and a half brings forth more answers than the previous five days has afforded me.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell,” the valet greets me, his smile nearly as fake as mine when the driver’s side door opens beside me. “Welcome back to Recherche.”
“Thank you,” I offer politely before reluctantly handing over the keys to her car.
As I adjust my suit jacket and step around the hood, it’s hard not to notice the small group of reporters standing just outside the entrance. I’d expected as much when I pulled up but seeing it with my own eyes puts the situation in a new light. The intricately detailed front entrance swings open, the young maître d materializing with a broad smile more genuine than the last I’d seen.
“Mr. Mitchell,” he greets. “Your guest has not yet arrived, but the private dining area requested has been prepared.”
“Perfect,” I nod, following him toward the small, intimate space and thanking him as he shows me to the single table.
“The sommelier has been notified of your arrival and will be with you momentarily. Is there anything I can get for you in the meantime?”
“I’d love a scotch on the rocks.”
“Of course,” he nods, stepping toward the small cart in the corner and, after retrieving my drink, promises to return once my guest has arrived.
He’s on his way out, but the sound of the mass just outside makes his feet move more quickly, his attempt at holding his composure making me smirk before the door swings open once more.
“Thank you, Alden,” he warmly regards the maître d, removing his sunglasses before slipping them into his coat.
“Certainly, sir,” he replies with an awkward bend at the waist. “May I bring you your usual?”
“That would be great,” he nods, turning to face me. His lips quirk up in a small but honest smile as I stand to face him. A moment later, he’s just before me, our handshake easily turning into a brotherly hug. “Mr. Mitchell.”
“Mr. Avery,” I answer, my smile genuine for the first time in days as his begins to broaden. “How’ve you been?” He makes a face, gesturing for me to join him in taking a seat. As he releases a long, low sigh, he shakes his head, his eyebrow quirks up on one side and makes me smirk once more. “That good, huh?”
“I’d tell you all about it, but I’m not sure you’d believe me if I did.”
“I can only imagine,” I admit. “I’ve not been following everything, but I’d have to be living under a rock to miss it altogether.”
“That might be to your advantage,” he offers, sipping from his drink. “Ninety percent of what’s being reported is false news anyway, so you’re likely not missing much.”
The commotion from the outside seems to be slowly dying down, yet it’s still obvious there are people just outside the window, aiming for his attention. He taps something out on his cell phone, slipping into his thoughts for a moment and I take the opportunity to slip into my own, as well. The sound of a branch just beyond the window pulls at us both only seconds later, though, and I join him in glancing over.
My eyebrows quirk up in disbelief, yet Adam simply releases a low sigh before reaching for his glass.
“Amen to that,” I offer.
“I apologize,” he shakes his head, but I wave him off and instead, reach for my own glass and extend my arm over the table.
“To shit storms and everything else that may be out of our control,” I toast, pulling an amused chuckle from his chest.
“Cheers,” he replies. As his rocks glass clanks against mine, it’s impossible to miss the same exhausted expression peering across the table at me. We lean back into our chairs, the silent camaraderie lingering between us more than I expect, but also welcome. “Your message was a very pleasant surprise,” he continues. “I had no idea you were in town.”
“Yes, I haven’t been keeping put for long,” I admit, and he nods his head in understanding. My thoughts trail off, recollecting all the dark reasons that have caused this truth in my life before I shake my thoughts clear, returning my attention back to my friend. “But I’m glad we could get together before I have to take off again, even if it’s just for a short lunch.” I lean forward, the ache in my back unrelenting and I cradle my drink in my hands, unable to keep my eyes from the platinum band on my left ring finger for long. Disorder from the other side of the shrubs just outside the window pulls at my attention once more. This time, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed. “Has it been like this ever since it hit the news?”
