At first, I thought maybe Cohen was after the same thing as Alan and every other arse out there. But the way he sat with me and cared for me, it was almost like that moment existed in another space and time, hushed voices and gentle touches meant for comfort. But I couldn’t help but feel something when his hands were on me. When he was kneeling between my legs, I felt a deep stirring I haven’t felt in…I don’t know if I’ve ever really felt it before. I can’t remember the last time I was attracted to someone for who they are, not what they can provide me. The way he treated me, so precious, fighting to hold back…I know he felt it too. It made me wonder what it might be like for him to lose that control. My mouth waters in memory of his body, dripping with sweat, pressed up against me, smelling masculine and like a dark ocean spray. Eyes a dangerous blue, harboring secrets of their own. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again… I hope so.
When the sun has set, I think again about calling Piers. I haven’t heard from him all weekend and I’m a little hurt he hasn’t even bothered to check in to see how it’s going. Deciding to give it a little more time, I pack up my tray and head in. Washing my cup, I place it carefully back in its hiding spot and ring in a takeout order before heading to the toilet for a quick shower.
The warm water relaxes some of the tension still lingering in my muscles. My scratches are still a bit tender. I take care when washing, careful not to press too hard before letting the last of the suds rinse down my body, along my skin, and swirl into the drain, cleansed away by a steady stream of soothing water. A fluffy white towel engulfs me, feeling glorious on my freshly scrubbed skin. I apply coconut oil to my body, breathing in the sweet smell. I need an ocean holiday soon. Maybe the south of France. Or the Greek Isles.
A squeak fills the silence as my hand smudges away the condensation fogging up the mirror. The swipe reveals my clean, pale skin and bright eyes. My face looks somewhat refreshed. Seems a lazy day agreed with me. I make a mental note to do this more often. When I’ve towel dried my hair and twisted it into a bun, there is no more time for stalling, I decide to go ahead and ring Piers. After several times, it finally rings off. Maybe he’s doesn’t have a good signal where he’s at? I try not to take it personal, even though it is very much personal. I’m not going to let him ruin my relaxed mood. I wanted to tell him the good news in person or at least on the phone, but if he can’t be bothered to talk, then I’ll just text him.
It’s done.
Two words. I enter my room, drop the phone on my bed, and sink into the fluffy white duvet while I throw on fresh pajamas.
I don’t have much time to linger or second guess my decision before the bell chimes, alerting me that my take away is here. I pay the young man and thank him before taking the brown paper bag full of cartons of my favorite Chinese food. Carrying the food back to the couch, I set up a proper picnic on the table. Opening the bag, I smell the familiar spices, and my stomach growls on command. Opening the carton of lo mien noodles, I pop one into my mouth before rushing to the kitchen to grab some wine from the cooler and a bottle of water. I remove the cork from the Reserve Shiraz to let it breathe and reach into the cupboard, finding my hand settling on the tea cup once more instead of choosing a wine glass. Shrugging my shoulders, I carry the items back to my makeshift picnic. Ii pour the red wine in my teacup and take a sip, savoring the earthy taste of spicy fruit on my tongue. I decide to dig in and put all thoughts of Piers and a dreamy stranger named Cohen away. Flicking on the tele, I find an old black and white movie to keep my mind occupied. I’m tired of being ignored. I’m tired of not being important. Obviously, Piers moved on. It’s time I do the same.
Chapter Twelve
Cohen
A large, red brick building houses the man who held the power to make or break me. A man who could have changed my life with a single phone call. A shadow—a fuzzy memory of a person I can’t even recall meeting. Brick and mortar is the only thing standing in my way now. A fancy brass plaque rests on the glossy black door that reads: Gracewell House. I hesitate before ringing the bell.
I look around, waiting to be let in. If they even let me in. This place looks like a sprawling country estate, complete with vibrant gardens and a guarded gate, rather than a home for the frail and recovering. It took me nearly two weeks to confirm this is where he was.
Two weeks of searching facilities, trying to find him. Day after day of reaching dead ends, I’m finally here. Days I stayed focused on what I came here for. Days I didn’t see Scarlett as I struggled to keep her out of my mind. Her hypnotizing violet eyes and seductive smile. The way she felt pressed up against me in that bed, curled up like she was safe in my arms. The few times I did check in with her, she was always at work or holed up in her flat. It left very little chance for running into her by accident. I’m sure she’s dealing with some issues of her own, after that weekend. I close my eyes briefly and recall her pale skin under my hands, the way…no, not now.
I shake her from my mind and focus on the door in front of me. It’s really for the best we don’t see each other again. She was clouding my focus, and the connection I felt to her was more than physical. I can’t even put it into words. But I learned enough to know she’s not that way to Piers. I was wrong, and I refuse to rub salt in the wound and use her to get to him. Logic tells me if she’s of no use to me, I need to avoid her, but I’ve never really been a very logical man.
The door opens with a heavy groan and a male orderly stands on the other side. So much for using my charm. This place prides itself on the upmost privacy and discretion. I should know, since I failed to breach their security to add myself to the visitors list. Getting past him could prove to be troubling.
He leads me to a desk where a lovely young redhead sits in front of a computer, and I have two options: tell the truth, confess words I’ve never allowed myself to utter in the presence of others, or do what I’m best at and fabricate a story.
“Hello, miss.” I lower my voice an octave and give her a half smile, dismissing the chap.
I look next to her and find a name plaque. “Gretchen, is it? Hello, love. I’m hoping we can help each other. I’m going to be completely honest with you, I’m here with X-Wire doing a routine security inspection. It’s something we are doing at all our locations that might be eligible for a software upgrade. A couple things have been brought to my attention in the brief time I’ve been on the premises.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide and not saying a word, and the male orderly thankfully disappeared back to wherever he came from.
“While the gate guard checked the credentials of my driver, he did not check mine. That is a problem. Standard protocol seem to be followed at the main entrance when I was buzzed in and escorted to the desk. I’m assuming you could see my face on that security camera up there?”
She smiles, nodding her head in agreement. “Yes, sir. We can.”
“I also see you have a mobile face down on your desk, which I’m assuming is not a company issued mobile, which also breaks protocol,” I inform her, and the smile falls from her face as she remains frozen in her chair. She doesn’t suspect I’m lying. She’s too fearful of being reprimanded. Now that I’m convinced she’ll comply, I continue.
“I’m a consultant who works hand-in-hand with the owners to ensure all protocol is followed to care for and protect our patient’s safety and privacy. If you don’t mind, I’d like to do a sweep of the facility.”
“Well, I really should—” she stutters.
“Gretchen, is everything okay?” A rather distinguished, grey-haired woman calls from her perch in front of a filing cabinet.
“Yes, Lilah. Everything is fine, thank you,” she replies politely over her shoulder.
“This is an unofficial inspection, so I don’t wish to alarm anyone, nor reveal I’ve let you in on our little secret. And as a courtesy, I won’t notate in my report about your personal phone being laid out on the desk. While you’re likely doing nothing more than playing games or talking to your
boyfriend, I’m sure a lovely lady such as yourself has a special man in her life…but it’s still a liability having it on the premises.” I lower my voice, giving her my best smile.
She flashes a deep shade of red and begins stammering. “Yes, of course! I understand! I just—”
“I’m not here to criticize, nor do I have anything to do with the personnel. I’m strictly here to check to make sure our system is working properly. That the residents’ rooms are secure. But the system is only as good as the people using it.”
She seems to buy this and passes me through without any further inspection. Finally.
I walk down the long corridor, starting with the north wing. I’m told it’s highly exclusive and only houses a few…patients? Guests? Looking around, I notice this looks more like an upscale townhouse or luxury hotel. Nicer than any of the places we ever lived.
After walking past a large formal dining hall and passing what appears to be a music room, I take a left and see a large brass nautical compass etched in the glossy floor. I follow its prominent point and walk down another corridor, finding the first couple rooms empty.
Suite 30. Nothing.
Suite 32. Nothing.
Suite 34. Nothing.
In Suite 36, I open the door to see an older woman sleeping in dim light and quietly shut the door before disturbing her. That brings me to the last door on this side of the North Hall.
Suite 38. The brass knob feels like ice in my hand as I turn it. Staying just inside the door, I take a breath before walking farther into the room to what I’m assuming is his bedroom. A wall of windows covered in sleek bamboo line the back wall, and in the center of the room, there he lays.
I’m not sure what I expected, but what I find is a large man lying motionless in a state of the art hospital bed. Quiet clicks and beeps are the only sounds aside from my breathing, which has increased.
I’ve thought of this moment a million times, dreamed of it even, but never one of those times was he laying down. He was always standing, towering over me. Even though I’m a grown man now, I always imagined him larger than life.
Now that I’m here, all I can do is stare at his sleeping body, not even sure if he can hear me. Maybe deep in his subconscious? My heart pounds faster and faster, the steady whoosh ringing in my ears.
Standing at the foot of his bed, I struggle to find the words—words that have lived on the tip of my tongue for years. My adrenaline spikes, and it’s like my body is in fight or flight mode. I can do this.
Taking a minute, I stand frozen in the eerie silence and get my breathing under control. Tugging at my hair, I focus my thoughts on the fact that I’m a grown man. I don’t need his approval, or his charity. Not that a sleeping man can give any of those things. Bravery floods my veins and my heartrate evens out when I think about what I really want from him the most: answers.
This should be easy, but I expected to confront him man to man. Not like this. Seeing him laying lifelessly there on pale grey sheets, I grow angry at the fact that I can’t even take out my anger on him. I want to, but it wouldn’t be fair because this broken, aging man can’t talk back. He can’t answer the questions I was going to demand answers to. It’s hard to believe he’s the same man I hated all these years, feared even.
A ragged breath escapes my lips as I step closer, studying his sleeping face. Weathered skin that looks unnaturally pale, a square jaw covered dark stubble, black hair combed away from a relaxed brow above closed lids covering his icy blue eyes—eyes I see every time I look in the mirror.
The man who came for revenge doesn’t know what to say, so the boy who never had a dad speaks up instead. “Hello, father.”
“It’s me, Cohen. Cohen James Black. Your namesake. Your blood. Your son,” I spit out in a mocking tone. Not that any of that probably means anything to him.
“Your bastard son,” I add in a harsh whisper. A word I was often called. A word that made me cry before I even fully understood what it meant. A word that followed me around like a shadow. A dark cloud that showed everyone I belonged to no one.
I don’t dare say this out loud to expose that wound, that weakness. So I tell him the things I can in an attempt to let go of some of this weight.
“You don’t know me, but I’m certain you know of me. I’m certain that’s the reason you paid my mum to disappear. It’s nice to officially meet you.” Finally.
I turn my back and pace the room, coming to stop at the large wall of windows. Where do I begin?
“I’m twenty-four. I run a tech based company. I’m also involved in the shipping industry, mostly on the technical side. I’m working on a new charting software that will improve safety location services for fishermen. That’s who I’ve become with no help from you. Nearly two and half decades without a single word. No tossing the ball, no sailing lessons, nothing. Did you know about me? Did you choose a new family? A new wife? New children? A house full of them, who didn’t even share your blood?” Turning away from the windows, I walk back to his bedside.
Only the gentle beep of his machines provide a reply, but I find it gets easier as I talk.
“While I was being moved around, bounced from place to face faster than a ball in a game, you were moving on. You broke my mother. Stole one son, abandoned another, and set her aside like yesterday’s rubbish.” My chest aches as words I’ve harbored for so long, but never spoke out loud fall from my lips.
“She never got over you, by the way. But she tried to replace you. Oh, how she tried, and I was just the baggage she dragged along. A new man, a new town, a new name. They never measured up to you, her ‘dark and dangerous pirate.’ But she’s all I had. Or so I thought. All I knew. So I loved her just the same. I love her still, knowing who and what she was. But you, I know nothing about. You were nothing more than a bedtime story she would tell me when she was drunk and feeling nostalgic. Sometimes you were the villain and sometimes the hero, so I grew up believing in both. The older I got, the more you became the villain in my version.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I will them not to fall. I hate him for how he treated my mother, almost as much as I hate him for never trying to find me. I hate him for not caring that I was a scrappy little dark-haired runt who couldn’t defend himself from the fists of bullies in the school yard or the bullies mum brought home. I hate that his Black temper runs through my veins, because my mouth is often what brought on those beatings.
The beeping increases, as does my heartbeat, and the room doesn’t feel so quiet anymore. And amidst the storm raging inside, I hear her voice, encouraging me, fueling the rage. I see her weeping in bed, unable to get up. I see her painting her face, desperate to find me a daddy. I hear her arguing with someone on the phone. I smell the alcohol on her breath as she chases his ghost away.
Don’t let him off so easy, son. Make him pay for what he did to me. To you. To us.
I look at this man, a man I sought revenge after. His games and infidelities cost people their lives. I’m conflicted by what I’ve heard and what I know…what I may never know.
“You ruined her life, betrayed her, abandoned me, and abused your powers. You played God. Everything you touch crumbles, including those you pretend to love.” And still, he just lays there, not moving. Just the steady rise and fall of his massive chest
My balled-up fists relax at my sides as the anger starts to fade, but doesn’t go away completely. I’m exhausted from saying everything I’ve been carrying around for so long.
My mobile beeps with an incoming message. Shit! Willow’s here. I need to slip out. And quickly. She’s surely on his approved guest list. Looking around, I realize I’m stuck. Going back the way I came is the only way out.
Taking one last look at James, I find myself patting his hand with my own. It’s warmer than I expect, reminding me he’s still very alive.
I wanted to make him pay for what he did to my mother. To grow up, take it all away from him, and look him in the eye while doing it. But someone beat me to it.
And not only has the company been taken over, but he’s not even awake to hear what I’m saying. Will there ever be a time for atonement?
“I’ll be back,” I tell him. “We’re not finished.” Not even close.
Slipping out of his room, I shut the door behind me and quickly make my way back down the corridor when someone rounds the corner and slams right into me. Willow.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry,” she mutters, nearly losing her balance.
“It’s okay.” I quickly reach out to steady her. “There we go.”
When I release her and step back, her eyes widen in recognition.
“CJ?” she questions, and I freeze, watching her. Think fast!
“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” I do my best to appear confused and pretend I don’t remember her, even though it was just a couple weeks ago.
“We bumped into each other a bit ago, at a pub? I recognized you, but honestly, I remembered your name because my son thought you were a pirate. He thought CJ stood for Captain Jack,” she confesses. Not entirely wrong, mate.
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry about that. And as far as my name...nope, nothing nearly that cool. I do work in the shipping industry, but I’m no pirate,” I chuckle, genuinely amused at her son’s description of me.
“Well, crazy seeing you here. I’ll let you get back to…” she hesitates, so I pick up where she leaves off.
“Oh, yeah. My…uh, grandmother. I’m visiting my grandmother.” I nod toward suite 36. “But I’m just headed out if you’d like to grab that drink?” I throw her a charming smile, hoping to catch her off guard.
“Sorry, I can’t. I’m actually just getting here,” she politely declines. “Thanks, though. It’s very kind of you.”
I nod before turning to walk away, calling after her quietly, “I guess your someone showed up?”
“He did.” She turns, but I hear the smile in her voice. Lucky for him.
Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2) Page 10
