by Lexi Ryan
“She’ll need one.”
* * *
Janelle
I’ve been in this room before. The bare walls and cold metal chairs are familiar. Only, the last time I was here, I was worried about my friend and scared for my own safety. This time I’m being accused of conspiring to frame a man for rape.
The hacker that was behind the missing footage at my condo was also the man who arranged to have the flowers sent to us. He’s the man who made sure the security cameras at the HiLo never saw Courtney leave. They have evidence that Jo, Courtney, and I communicated with him from our home computers. And he was paid with money from my savings account. It’s an account I opened with my inheritance after my father died and never touched. I didn’t want that money. And now it’s gone. Used to pay a man to coordinate this whole ordeal.
I’ve been in police custody for six hours and I’ve already seen my lawyer. She says this doesn’t look good for me. She doesn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes. She thinks I’m lying. Officer Gormong thinks I’m lying. I’m legitimately at risk of going to prison for a crime I didn’t commit, and I’m scared.
But that fear is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
I don’t blame the police for not believing me. I don’t blame my lawyer. But Cade thinks I did this.
Cade thinks I would frame my ex-husband for rape. Cade believes I’d do the worst, all to revive my career.
I can’t say he didn’t warn me. He told me he doesn’t trust actresses. But was it so foolish of me to believe I was different? To believe that loving me meant he could trust me?
I’m haunted by my own words to Tom. I told him that forgiveness and trust weren’t the same thing. Apparently, neither are love and trust. To Cade, I will always be part of the Hollywood machine he detests so much, and that makes him incapable of trusting me.
The door clicks open and I don’t even look up. I’ve been questioned again and again, and it’s always the same. They’ve asked me the same dozen questions in forty different ways. My lawyer suggested I stop answering when she’s not present, and since I’m paying her a small fortune for that bit of advice, I’ve decided to take it. This time I won’t talk.
Someone passes a cup of coffee across the table to me.
“In case you need this as much as I do.” The voice is so sweet to my ears, and I lift my head as Cade takes the seat across from me.
His dark eyes are all over me, taking in my eyes, my mouth, then lingering on my cuffed hands resting on the table.
My heart doubles its pace and seems to be whispering, He came. He came.
“I’m going to get you out of here. We’ll get you the best lawyer in town. After what Tom put you through, any jury would understand—”
“You still believe I did this?” Any hope I felt when he walked in the door melts away.
He flinches and drops his gaze to the table. “You told me. Don’t you remember?”
I don’t bother replying. This has to be a bad dream. All this evidence against me and now Cade’s saying I confessed the crime to him? This is a nightmare.
So then why does the hurt in my heart feel so real?
“You told me you sold your soul for your career. You told me that hiring Matthew wasn’t close to the worst thing you’d done.” He lifts his gaze to mine, and his face is a map of conflicting emotions. “I love you, and I’m going to stick by you. I’m going to get you through this.”
I didn’t think the ache in my heart could grow, but it does, and I press my palm to my chest as if the pressure might fuse its pieces back together. “I was talking about the beginning of my career,” I whisper. “I was talking about the time I walked in on my husband fucking the casting producer of Roommates. She was married, but she was fucking my husband, and I pretended not to know what happened.”
“Janelle,” Cade whispers. “I didn’t know.”
Hot tears spill down my cheeks, but I don’t wipe them away. I’m not going to hide my heartbreak from Cade. He broke me, and he now he has to face that. “I confronted Tom later, and he told me he did it for me. It was screwed up and twisted, but Tom had fucked that woman in exchange for the promise that I’d get that role, and if she found out that I knew, I wouldn’t get the part. He loved me. He was sorry. It was horrible, but my happiness was more important than anything, and he knew how much I wanted that chance. I was young, and I was stupid and desperate for a real break, and I kept my mouth shut and told myself he was telling the truth, told myself he’d done it for me.” I swallow hard. “My marriage was never the same. And neither was my confidence. I couldn’t get a role with my talent alone. The betrayal wasn’t just in that my husband would so easily fuck another woman. It was in that he didn’t believe I was good enough to get the part on my own.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He reaches across the table for my hands, but I pull them away, dropping them to my lap. I can’t endure his touch right now.
“Tom may have been the one who fucked her, but staying silent made me the whore. Don’t you see why I couldn’t tell you yet? I wanted you to believe in me before I showed you that part of myself.” I scoot my chair back and stand. “But you’re no better than Tom. You don’t believe in me, and you never will. Cara wounded you too deeply, and any feelings you have for me will always be cast in the shadow of her betrayal. I deserve better than that.”
“I’m sorry.” He clenches his fists on the table. “But don’t shut me out right now. I will fight to get you out of here and get your name cleared.”
“I don’t want your help,” I whisper. “And I don’t want to see you again.”
Slowly, he pushes his chair back, and the metal screeches against the tile floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I press my palm to my chest again. It doesn’t help, but when something hurts that badly, my instinct is to try. “Leave.”
Chapter 19
Cade
My head is going to split into two. I used the last of the favors I had to get a chance to talk to Janelle yesterday, and when she told me to get out, I came back to her brother’s mansion and drank.
No amount of alcohol could numb the ache in my chest or erase the knowledge that I fucked up, but that didn’t keep me from trying, and I’m paying for it this morning with a hangover from hell.
She’s innocent and I didn’t believe in her. It doesn’t make sense in light of the evidence, but I know it’s the truth, and I’m a fucking idiot for getting myself in this condition because I need my brain clear now more than ever. She wants me out of her life, but before I leave I need to figure out how to prove she’s innocent.
I stumble to the kitchen and fill a glass from the tap. The idea of water is nauseating, but it’s the only thing that will lessen the pounding in my head.
I stop the cup halfway to my lips as my mind fills with an image—Courtney, Jo, and Bella, raising their glasses in a toast. “May he get what’s coming to him.”
“Bella even bought a condo in the same building as Janelle.”
“Three women. Obviously friends. They’d been planning this for months.”
Fuck.
I find my phone on the counter and dial Gormong. “It wasn’t Janelle.”
“Cade—”
“The third woman was Bella Comer, Comer’s second wife. She has a condo in Janelle’s building. I bet you anything she was accessing Janelle’s condo and computer from her own to make it look like Janelle was the third. And once she was in Janelle’s condo, I bet she found everything she needed to access Janelle’s account. Tom Comer isn’t the only one who was framed.”
* * *
Janelle
I click off the TV and my sister-in-law spins around and scowls at me. “I was watching that.”
“They don’t deserve any more of your attention or mine,” I say, propping my hands on my hips.
She holds up a finger. “They slept with your husband while you were still married to him.” She adds a s
econd finger. “They tried to implicate you in a crime you didn’t commit.” And a third. “And they’re kind of just all-around bitchy women. You cannot blame me for wanting to watch their asses be hauled off to jail.”
“Prison,” I say.
She shrugs. “Even better. But I was enjoying the show. I only wish they hadn’t offered them the plea deal. I wanted to see the three of them turn on each other in court. That would have been entertainment.”
“Screw entertainment.” I settle onto the couch and draw up my knees. “I just want the whole thing behind me.”
She plops into the chair beside me. “You’re sure you can’t stay for another day or two?”
I absolutely could. There’s nothing but pride sending me back to LA, but every day I’m here, I worry I’ll run into Cade. “I’m not ready to see him yet,” I admit, swallowing. “I think it would hurt too much.”
“Have you talked to him since . . .?”
“Since I compared him to my POS ex-husband and told him I didn’t want him in my life?”
Hanna flinches. “It sounds so bad when you put it that way.”
I shake my head. “What’s there to say?”
“I don’t know. What about telling him that you love him so much you’re a mess and, hey, by the way, thanks for figuring out that Bella was behind all of this and keeping me from serving hard time.”
I bite my lip. It’s been a month and a half, but I still can’t talk about Cade without my throat getting thick and tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “He thought I was capable of setting someone up for rape just to further my career.”
“For a minute he did,” Hanna says, her big brown eyes searching mine. “And I know that’s terrible, but he was also willing to stay by your side even if you were guilty. Crap on a cracker, Elle, that’s about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, and that’s not even counting the part where he came to his senses and saved the day. If he’d really believed you were capable of that, his mind wouldn’t have been searching for an explanation.”
“I know,” I whisper. “And I can’t blame him for thinking I was part of it. Even for a minute. But at the end of the day, I’m still an actress, and he’s still a man who hates my city more than anything.”
“Why can’t New Hope be your city?”
I sigh. “Because I’m the foolish optimist who still believes she can live out her dream of playing important parts in important movies. Maybe someday I’ll give up the dream, but I’m not ready yet.”
Absently, Hanna rubs her belly. “I just hate seeing you so sad.”
“I’m fine.” And it’s kind of true. Even if my heart is broken, I’m grateful for Cade. After being loved in such a sincere and healthy way, I couldn’t go back to the kind of relationship I had with Tom. I owe Cade for that. But I miss him so much that sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and the ache in my chest is so intense, all I can do is curl into a ball and pray the pain passes. It never does, but some moments it’s more unbearable than others.
Hanna’s phone buzzes with her text alert. She picks it up and frowns at it.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Liz just sent me a link. She says, ‘Is this true?’” She taps her phone, clicking on the link, and her jaw drops. “Actress Janelle Crane secretly expecting hunky cop lover’s baby.” Her eyes snap up to mine. “This isn’t true, is it?”
My stomach plummets as I snag the phone from her and read the short article. It claims a “reliable source close to the actress” reported that I’m newly pregnant. “Oh no,” I whisper. “Cade’s going to hate this.” I swear, I have the worst luck with this man.
“Is it true?”
I glare at her. “Of course not. It’s bullshit. Clearly it’s a slow news day and they’re just making shit up now.”
Hanna frowns at my stomach. “That’s too bad. I bet a baby would make Cade grovel appropriately.” Her eyes fly to mine. “Oh my God. Does he know you’re not pregnant?”
“Of course he—” I look at the article again. “I mean, he should— Crap.” I hand Hanna back her phone and grab for mine, dialing Cade for the first time since before I was arrested.
The call goes straight to voicemail and his no-nonsense message. “You’ve reached Cade. Leave a message.” It beeps, and I sit silently for a beat before punching the screen to end the call.
“He didn’t answer?” Hanna asks.
“It went straight to voicemail. I didn’t want to talk about this to a recording.” Or maybe I just want to hear his voice for real and not some canned recording.
She frowns at my phone, as if it’s responsible for Cade not answering. “That’s understandable.”
I tap my screen to dial him again. “I’ll just tell him to call me.”
His voicemail picks up, and I hang up again.
“What now?” Hanna asks.
“What if it’s going straight to voicemail because he’s screening his calls?”
“You really think he’s going to send your call to voicemail once he reads this?” she asks, holding up her phone. “Have some faith in the man.”
“Right.” I dial again, feeling another little piece of my heart break off at the sound of his voice in the short message. It beeps and Hanna waves her hand at me in an out with it gesture. “Cade.” I clear my throat. “This is Janelle. I, um, I’m sorry to bother you. Could you call me, please? We need to talk.”
I hang up, then look desperately to Hanna. “Did that sound like I needed to tell him I’m pregnant? Crap. What if—”
“Relax.” She looks way too pleased. “He’ll call. You’ll talk. It’ll be good.”
“Statistically, you’re oh for one on predictions about Cade,” I tell her. “But I hope you’re right about this one.”
* * *
He hates me even more than I thought. It’s the only explanation for why he wouldn’t have called me back in the twenty-four hours since I left the first message.
I canceled my flight yesterday, deciding I should stay in New Hope to have this conversation with Cade face to face.
Only he’s not even returning my calls, and I’m too chicken to go to his apartment, so I’m not sure I’m going to get that opportunity.
“Now I’m mad at him,” Hanna says.
We’re sitting at Brady’s, and I’m nursing a beer while she drinks a “vodka cranberry, hold the vodka,” because she’s adorable like that.
“You’ve been mad at him since you found out he watched them cuff me and read me my rights.”
“I was unhappy before,” she says. “Now I’m mad. I mean, if you’re having his baby, he should be here, talking it out, figuring what happens next and how you’re going to make it work.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to make it work,” I point out.
She scoffs. “Then he’s an idiot.”
“Lower your voice,” I whisper.
She sits up straighter. “What’s that? You want me to say it louder?” She stands up and clears her throat. “Cade Watts is an idiot.”
“Yeah,” adds a familiar deep voice. “He definitely is.”
I look up, and there’s Cade.
Hanna spins around, and her cheeks flame red, but she lifts her chin. “You are.”
He nods to me. “Could I talk to Janelle alone for a minute?”
“It’s about time,” Hanna mutters, but she winks at me as she grabs her purse and exits the booth.
Cade takes her spot. He looks amazing. Somehow, he’s even broader and taller than I remember. His hair’s longer than it was when I saw him last, and I want to run my fingers through where it’s just starting to curl at the back of his neck. Just seeing those arms makes my stomach twist into knots with how badly I want him to hold me.
In the movie, this is where the hero grovels and holds the heroine. He kisses her and tells her he’s been a damn fool. But this isn’t a movie. It’s my life. And I owe Cade the apology, not the other way around.
“I’ve been trying to cal
l you,” I say, scanning his face for any hint as to how angry he is or how much he hates me now. I don’t want him to hate me. Even if we can’t be together.
“I’ve been out of town.” He folds his hands on the table, and his gaze drops to my beer. For a moment, I get a flash of emotion across his face, but it’s gone before I can read it.
“Where were you?”
“I flew to LA.” He swallows and slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. “As soon as I saw the article.”
I shake my head, and my eyes burn with tears I only wish I could hide from him. The last thing I want is for him to feel emotionally manipulated into comforting me. “It’s not true. I have no idea who their source is or why anyone would say such a thing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.
“I called the paper and I asked them to print a retraction and— What? What are you sorry about?”
He lifts a shoulder in an awkward half-shrug and his gaze drops to the table, as if he can see my stomach through the wood. “I may have jumped the gun and put in some calls about jobs out there.”
Everything from my chest to my belly seems to melt, one inch at a time. “You were looking for jobs in LA?”
Another shrug. “I wasn’t planning on freeloading off the mother of my child, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You would have moved to LA if I’d been pregnant?”
“You wouldn’t have to be pregnant.” Finally, finally he touches me. He reaches across the table and grazes the back of my hand with his fingers. The move is tentative and vulnerability is written across his face, but the contact might as well be my lifeline. “I’d move there just to be with you. If you’d have me.”
“You hate LA.”
“I hated my memories there.” He lifts my hand to take it into his. “But I have some new memories now, and I’d like to make more.”
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
“It’s been hell,” he says.
