by Ellie Danes
I couldn’t help but wonder if Kate had told them I had gone back on my word and we were back together. I was assuming, not considering that I hadn’t heard anything from Ben and Michael about it all.
I wondered what would happen when she did tell them.
Maybe the evidence did matter, after all; maybe Amelia knew it mattered and knew that things were still up in the air.
“Or maybe you’re being really fucking paranoid…” I growled out loud to myself.
But I couldn’t help it. I felt uneasy about the future. I knew that BioResearch had something on us already; but for some reason, it was just now starting to click. I guess it was partially from Amelia’s smugness and how sure she was that we’d be ruined, or in her words “taken down”.
It wasn’t exactly news, but it was definitely the wording — the new swing on it all — that made me nervous.
I hopped up from the sofa and began to nervously pace around the entire length of the open concept suite, which is something I’d actually already been doing a lot of ever since I’d gotten home a couple hours before.
I only stopped when I passed in front of a photo for the tenth or eleventh time. The more times I passed in front of it, the more I felt the need to look at it. Until my feet had actually stopped moving.
I sighed, and took it in.
It was of my dad. An old photo. One that had always been in the apartment, ever since I could remember. And before that, it had laid atop the same shelf it was on now, which was something that my dad had owned since before I was even conceived, I was pretty sure.
I had kept it, all this time, as a sort of ritual.
It was a picture that had always been around — no matter the home we lived in.
It was always just there…
My mom had always liked it, and Dad had never moved it — not even after she died.
And neither had I.
It made me feel almost like I was always at home whenever I saw it, and to be honest it made me feel closer to him. Even now, when I was confused and unsure if I even wanted to be close to him or not.
It was like he was always watching.
“I feel like I’m over my head,” I whispered, looking at the photo, talking to it like I was talking to my dad. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
I sighed, tears forming and tugging once again. I hated to cry.
“I just don’t want the responsibility of MTS. I never have.”
“I don’t want my family and Kate’s family history to affect our future together.”
“What should I do?”
All the questions were starting to compile, and before I knew it, I was basically full on sobbing in front of a picture.
I grabbed the photo from the shelf, and walked over to the table with it. I was contemplating packing it up and storing it away. I really didn’t need the temptation, or the distraction for that matter.
But when I went to put it down on the kitchen table, I felt a small bit of paper sticking out of one corner of the frame.
My face scrunched, and I tugged on it gently as to not harm the photo, only to realize that it wasn’t part of the photo at all. Instead, from what little I could see, it had hand-written lettering on it. It was something that was placed behind the photo.
“What the…?” I whispered, before fingering the frame’s tabs and removing the back.
When I did, the paper fell out, almost immediately. My eyes scanned it. It was old, fragile, crinkled beyond belief, and the ink had been smudged a bit, but I could still make it out.
The writing was gorgeous. Feminine and neat.
“Dear John,” it started and I couldn’t help but smirk at the pun. But the more I read, the more I realized it wasn’t a pun at all. It really was a “Dear John” letter — it was just to a man named John.
I ached, when my eyes scanned further down. Not just an emotional pain, but a physical one. It hurt all the way down to my damn soul, and my stomach was incredibly sore. Like someone had just punched me in the stomach. I was nauseated, even. It felt like I could throw the fuck up at any moment.
Not because I felt for him.
My mind started to drain completely, almost leaving me null and void of anything.
Which was probably a good thing.
I preferred not to feel emotions.
I grabbed the photo and crumbled the letter in my hand, angrily, and pulled away from the table and suddenly began pacing once again.
Everything had grown quiet all of a sudden. I mean, I knew no one was there. It was usually quiet, but this time, it was more than just quiet.
It was so quiet that it was eerie.
Everything was still, and something bad was happening. I was starting to think. I was starting to let my mind whirl and spin and land on every single issue that I had on my plate until I growled out in an anger stronger than any that I’d felt for a long time.
It was so quiet that it was almost like of those deadly calm sort of nights where you get hacked and slashed to bits.
I passed the hallway, still pacing. Until a knock at the door brought me back to reality.
I rushed to the door, knowing it had to be Kate.
With bloodshot eyes red and swollen from crying, I swung the door open
“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.
I grabbed hold of her forearm and tugged her inside before my foot made contact with the door behind me.
It slammed shut, and as soon as I heard the click of it, I started to shake and before I knew it, I was sputtering out at a mile a minute.
I kept shouting, “I found it in the back of the picture frame!” over and over.
“Ian. Honey!” she yelled. “Slow down! You look angry, and if I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re angry with me by the look on your face. Slow down and tell me what was in the picture frame
Chapter 21
Ian
My hands twitched and body tensed as I held the paper that I’d found out to her.
It was a letter.
From Jean to my dad.
“My dad stole the technology.”
That was all there was to it.
“I feel betrayed,” I said, with a voice much fainter than I thought the anger brewing inside would have produced. “Your mom said she felt betrayed, but I’m not sure she felt anywhere near as betrayed as I do.”
I thought about what I had read in the letter.
She wrote how she’d lost all respect for him. She had written that he had tried to steal Michael’s ideas. Her letter said that she knew he was hurt by her breaking their engagement off, but assured him that it would be better in the long run, and that he would see it eventually.
But she wouldn’t forgive him for stealing something he and Michael had both worked so hard on, especially when he hadn’t given Michael any credit. She called him “low and vindictive”.
When I read it the first time, I felt cold. In disbelief. Lost; unsure of what exactly to feel.
The second time I read it I felt anger. I wanted to tell Kate everything it said. But in truth, I was a little too shaken to completely formulate the words. It was obvious that I was too shaken, actually. And not just because I felt cloudy, but because when I tried to tell her everything, she told me to slow down, clearly not understanding what in the hell I was actually saying.
I felt like all the dedication, blood, and sweat that I had put in since his death was just dust at this point. I felt like none of it mattered. I felt misguided. I felt like I didn’t know him at all.
“I just really don’t know what to do…” I told her. “I mean what did he hope to accomplish from all of this? What was his end game? What did he want?” I knew I was snapping. I couldn’t stop myself. I just hated that I was doing it in front of Kate.
But I couldn’t stop.
I was almost enraged past the point of settling down at that moment.
I walked away from her and flicked on a light behind me, and continued to pace back
and forth. My steps were powerful with the heated agitation I felt.
“I mean, does this make any fucking sense to you, Kate?” I growled, as I glanced over my shoulder, still pacing. But then I realized something. I’d been acting insane.
“God, you should be running for the door,” I grumbled, as the realization fully set in.
I swiped my hands through my hair, nervously. “I’m so sorry…”
My breath felt heavy, and I knew that I was panting as I looked at her. I probably looked like a huge mess of a man. I hated the way I was acting. Especially in front of her.
The only thing that made it comforting was the fact that she was looking at me through glistening, apologetic eyes. I knew she wasn’t judging me.
I knew, that in fact, it was the opposite. She felt for me.
She felt sorry; and for once, I didn’t mind the pity.
“I would probably be the same way,” she said through a calm and soothing voice, clearly trying her very best to reassure me. “I don’t blame you at all.”
“I guess we have horrible taste in family…” I laughed.
Her feet were once planted firmly on the floor as she watched me pacing like a lunatic, but then she moved — right towards me.
My eyes caught hers and she opened her mouth, as if she wanted to speak, but she didn’t. She only looked at me through loving eyes as she closed in on me.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I said, trying my best to take a couple of minutes away from my anger.
She didn’t even have to say it.
I could see it. All over her face.
She wasn’t leaving.
“Seeing you definitely helps defuse,” I breathed out, trying to calm myself down. She smiled, and when she did I realized that it was entire possible that if I gave it a little longer, her presence would blow my anger away completely. It’d be as frame as a candle flame.
“This is you defused?” she laughed.
I grinned. “I’m becoming more and more defused.”
“I’m glad that you’re showing me your emotions,” she whispered as soon as she got mere inches from me.
I cringed at the thought. I hated showing my emotions. It was unusual for me to have them, let alone to let anyone see them. The fact that she’d acknowledged that made me even more uncomfortable. I stiffened and looked away, feeling extra vulnerable.
“I shouldn’t be so angry around you, though,” I tried to push the vulnerability away.
“I want you to always be honest with me,” she said, soothingly, just before the soft tips of her fingers gently touched the bottom of my chin and pulled my head back to face her.
“Anger is an emotion. Don’t be afraid to show even that to me,” she said, and even though I felt vulnerable still, something in her eyes told me to feel good about what was happening. It was telling me that even with all the bullshit going on, to feel good about this.
Screw everything else. All the other shit. Just be happy with this.
“Anger isn’t my favorite emotion, but I want to know what you’re feeling. Every time…” She was reassuring and gentle; even more than she had already been.
I took hold of her arm, gently, and looked into her eyes. Immediately, I felt her searching mine. My body tightened like it was wrapped in chains, and those chains were binding me close, constricting me not to move away from her gaze. I didn’t fight them. I breathed, heavily, and continued to look at her.
Truth was, I didn’t want to move.
I didn’t want to fight it.
I wanted to look at her and never stop looking.
But I knew I had to. I knew we had to talk about it all; I knew we had too much shit to settle for me to just stare at her and pass the time in her eyes.
I pulled away gently so that I could sit for a minute on the arm of the sofa, and she followed closely behind. I huffed out a loud puff of air, and tried to calm myself.
“Just breathe,” she soothed, her hands finding their way to the back of my head, smoothing my hair down, causing small tingling sensations to roll over my scalp.
I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling before I leaned in and turned my body toward her. My hands caught her face and held it firmly, yet gently so that I look at the most serene thing I had ever known.
I wanted to kiss her so bad I couldn’t stand it. I wanted her to kiss away all the pain. I nodded as I continued to stare at her into her gorgeous eyes. My hands left her face and I realized something almost terrifying. I missed touching her almost as soon as I had stopped.
That feeling of calm when my hands touched her skin had shot straight to my heart and distracted me away from every negative thought I’d had. At least for the moment. It was a distinct feeling that I had never felt before.
It was a feeling of comfort and safety. Something even more powerful, that I wasn’t sure I could ever explain with words. All I knew was that it was so powerful that I knew I had never quite experienced it before.
Chapter 22
Kate
“I just can’t stand all this, Kate…”
The way he said my name brought even more excitement to my mind and body. I knew I shouldn’t have been having that reaction. But I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t help how stupid I had been. When I first came in, I had forgotten completely what I had actually wanted to tell him.
His emotional breakdown distracted me so much that I had forgotten it completely, actually. “Do you know the whole story?” I asked, seriously. I was trying to get my head back in the game. I was trying to get to the bottom of it all. I hated seeing him so distressed. The quicker we could figure it all out, the better.
I knew I had just found out a huge chunk of information — information that might make him feel a little better. His dad was on the patent application. He was half owner. There was nothing on there about it belonging to BioResearch. Just John and Dad.
“Because I found something too…” I trailed, mimicking my thoughts.
I could only hope that what it was could give him some clarity; and help at least a little. But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure how he would take it.
“And I think I might have pieced it all together,” I admitted, without trying to toot my own horn. “But don’t take my theory as law… Just let me know what you think…”
I walked over to the sofa and had a seat, gesturing for him to sit beside me.
“What?” he asked, as he sat cautiously beside me. “What did you find?”
“I decided to go home and look at my dad’s office. There were a bunch of letters from your dad to my mom, hidden in a compartment under a drawer.”
“Why the hell did your dad have them? And in a secret drawer?” he asked, cutting me off. I couldn’t blame him for being so curious.
“I have no idea on that part; but I know that the letters were… intense… to say the least…”
“This intense?” he asked, gesturing towards the letter.
“Yes…” I said. “But before we get to the letters… I also found this…” I said as I unfolded the paper and showed it to him.
He took a deep breath. “Both of their names… Both of their fucking names…” He clenched his jaw and nodded slowly. “And the letters?” he asked. “Where are the letters?”
“I didn’t bring them, but I did take a couple of photos…” I sighed.
“That’s fine,” he sighed, almost disappointedly. “Do you remember them?”
I nodded.
I remembered that too well, almost.
“Some were angry — all were really sad — until there was finally a peaceful one.”
He shifted in his chair almost uncomfortably. “He talked about you in that one. He said that you were everything to him. You and your mom.”
I could tell by his glistening eyes and the sudden pull of his lips that he was torn all of a sudden. He took a deep breath, a tear threatening to fall and leaned back against the back of the sofa.
“I also found a recent letter
from my mom to my dad, asking him to settle all the idiocy. She had written about MTS suing and how stupid it was, but she was begging him to end it. She said that it should have been water under the bridge at that point. It was something that needed to be let go; and that it should at least be ended for your sake…”
“Mine?” he asked.
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “She said she’d always felt bad about what happened with your dad and her. She felt just as bad about it as she did when she left Dad, Ben, Claire and me. She said that John wasn’t a bad person. He was a little messed up, but he wasn’t bad. She told him that he should understand that since they were once friends; and that he should feel terrible for continuing after you’d lost him.”
I sighed.
“And then I thought some more… Ben came to you and agreed not to use your father’s name against him and allow MTS to keep their gold-labeled reputation in exchange for us breaking up, right?”
His face scrunched up, and he looked at me unsure. “Yeah?” he asked, confused. I smirked and took a deep breath. “Well, after reading this letter, I refuse to believe my Dad is that heartless, no matter how you feel about him.” I paused for a second and looked at him. He was looking at me strangely.
“You want to believe there’s more good in people than there is,” he scoffed.
“I’m just saying what if Ben used our relationship as an excuse to drop it all, because Dad felt bad about it, and they decided to do it this way so that they wouldn't seem weak?”
“FUCKING ASSHOLES!” he bellowed, “ALL OF THEM!”
He was losing it. “Just thinking about it all is getting to me. All of this — the fact that both of their names are on the damn paper, it almost makes this worse. I feel like I was duped; like he was just some big fucking con!” Ian stood from the sofa, enraged all over again. Still venting about it all. “Dad furthered the research on something that wasn’t completely his; and sued someone who had just as much right to it as he did. I mean, what the hell?”
I could see where he was coming from. Why he was wondering what the point of was. He went on about how he felt everything he’d done was just wasted time; all of the countless money and resources he had thrown at the lawsuit over the last couple years.
