The Reluctant Heir

by HelenKay Dimon

  “That’s not true. Not any of it.”

  “Oh, please.” The fact that he out-and-out lied crushed something inside her. She’d hoped he would... She didn’t even know what.

  He shook his head. “We had an agreement. We were clear—it was fun only.”

  Fun? He had to be kidding. “Do you know how she died?”

  “Car accident.”

  That would have been terrible but the truth was so much worse. “She ran the car off a bridge. No brake marks. No other vehicles. It was on purpose. She was lost and alone and wanted to die.”

  All of the color drained from his face. “I’d heard the rumors, but are you sure?”

  A new pang of guilt settled in her chest. Before Gena showed up at the door, Hanna hadn’t seen her sister for a few months. “I was with her after you left. She came to me broken and distraught.”

  “Hanna, I’m not sure what you’re thinking here, but your sister and I spent exactly one weekend together.”

  That couldn’t be right. “No.”

  “Three days.” He held up three fingers as if to emphasize his point. “That’s it.”

  Gena’s story unraveled in Hanna’s head. She talked about Carter looking her up and all the dinners and gifts...then he was gone without warning. She’d talked in terms of months, not days. “That’s not... You’re downplaying the relationship to make yourself feel better about what happened to her.”

  “I can give you the exact dates if you need them, but that was it. This wasn’t a big love affair for either of us.” He never broke eye contact. Didn’t fidget or stumble over his words. He spoke as if he believed what he was saying.

  “She and I specifically talked about what you meant to her.” It had killed Hanna. After all those years of admiring him from afar. All those computer searches she did as a grown-up just because she wanted to see what he looked like now.

  “A weekend, Hanna.”

  The words refused to settle in Hanna’s brain. His explanation didn’t match anything she’d been told.

  He took another step, closing the gap between them but not making any move to touch her this time. “Are you saying she drove the car off the bridge six months after our weekend together because of me?”

  His voice shook. The stunned horror was right there on his face, in his words. He looked pale and unsure, his usual confidence gone. Nothing about his expression or the way he stood there fit with a man who didn’t care that the mother of his child was dead.

  She’d stoked her anger at him and painted him as one type of guy in her head because it was easier to heap the blame on him. She was self-aware enough to realize that. But only one person had been in the car that night. The police had been clear about that.

  Gena had struggled her entire life with mood swings and those few months pushed her too far. Finding out she was pregnant, something she hadn’t even realized until she felt sick, pushed her right to the edge. Carter’s choices played a part in that, but only a part.

  She couldn’t blame him for Gena’s choices no matter how much easier that would be. “No. That’s not... I’m not arguing cause and effect.”

  “Then what are you saying, Hanna?”

  Too much. Not enough. Tension gripped her until she thought she would shatter. He hadn’t mentioned the baby or his father’s insistence that every fact surrounding Gena’s relationship with Carter be kept quiet, so she held back. Then there were all the other secrets about his family. So many things she suspected and now wasn’t sure he knew.

  She had no idea how or if she should spill it all. There just was no way for her to win. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “How do you expect me to do that?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He would always be fine because he had the Jameson name to fall back on. That was the point.

  She couldn’t breathe. It was as if a tight fist had closed around her chest. She fought off the need to gasp. The cottage. Quiet. She needed both.

  She spun around, intending to go back to the cottage but she lost her balance. Carter’s hand shot out. He caught her, then let go as soon as he steadied her.

  He started talking as soon as they separated again. “Why do you think we were together longer than a few days?”

  “You were bored. You, handsome and rich, this guy she knew as untouchable growing up, breezed into her life.” That made sense to Hanna. It fit with his lifestyle and all that money. Everywhere she looked right now was a reminder of his great big piles of it. That, alone, should make her write him off but every time she tried she’d think up a new excuse for how his confusion might be real. “She really didn’t stand a chance.”

  He zipped and unzipped his jacket. “She picked me up in a bar. Everything that happened was mutual.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

  “I was a mess when I was with your sister. Not because of her. Because of everything else happening. I was wild and out of control, which she knew. Drinking too much and making bad choices. She said we could be wild together, then move on.” A harsh sound escaped his throat. “Did she tell you that part?”

  None of that fit. The drinking and bad choices sounded like Gena. She’d spun out of control after their dad died and never regained her balance. But the rest was so different from what Gena described. For a second Hanna wondered if her sister made up the relationship story because of her fears over being pregnant. She had been so shaky there at the end.

  As soon as Hanna thought it, a new wave of guilt smacked into her. Was she just trying to think of ways to excuse Carter’s behavior?

  The lawn mower moved closer. The guy riding on it wore earphones. When he saw them, he did a double take. All it took was a raise of Carter’s hand and a shake of his head to have the guy turning the machine around and heading off to mow another section of the land.

  Carter waited until the noise quieted down and they were alone on that stretch of lawn to talk again. “I’d had a falling-out with my father. He kicked me out of the family, Hanna.”

  “But how serious could that have been? You were able to tap into your checking account to roam all over California. You’re here now, so you’re clearly welcome again.” Because that story fit with how she needed to see him to keep some distance from him. If he’d really been pushed out then another piece of her defense against wanting to spend time with him would fall.

  “Do you really want to talk about my finances?”

  She didn’t want to know anything. She didn’t want to fight or to feel anything. All she needed was for him to see that what happened might not have been as simple as he thought. “You don’t think, maybe, that you used her? That she was convenient and when she stopped being convenient, you left. After...however long.”

  Every one of his muscles visibly stiffened. “I told you how long. Three days.”

  “Right.” She could not wrap her head around that or how broken her sister really must have been to make the relationship sound so much bigger than it was.

  “We used each other.”

  “But she’s the only one who’s dead.”

  The words sat between them. They echoed in her head as tension wrapped around her and Carter. She couldn’t draw in enough air, couldn’t figure out how to call back her sharp response.

  She hated who she was when she talked about Gena. Her death cast this harsh darkness over everything. Hanna thought she wanted to hurt Carter, to make him feel half of the pain that pulsed inside her, but looking at him now, seeing the shock and hurt in his eyes, she didn’t feel one ounce of peace. Just dizzy and tired. If this is what revenge led to, she didn’t want any part of it.

  His chest rose and fell on heavy breaths. “If you’re going to blame me for Gena’s suicide, then have the guts to say it. Don’t dance around the accusation.”

  She couldn’t form the words. She wanted to blame him, but
the pieces were all mixed up in her mind now. “There were...things that happened after. It wasn’t just you. It was the aftermath.”

  His mouth dropped open. “I have no idea what that means.”

  Her mind went to the baby. For the first time, she saw the threats Carter’s father made in a different light. She’d always assumed that he’d demanded she stay quiet because Carter wanted to hide from the truth. Now she wondered if Eldrick really wanted to hide the truth from Carter.

  She had no idea what to do with that possibility or how to tell him such a crushing thing. “Do you know your father came to see her?”

  Carter took a step back. Actually looked like he lost his balance and stumbled. “When?”

  “After your supposed weekend together.”

  He made a grumbling sound. “Stop saying it that way.”

  “I didn’t mean to... Once you were gone.”

  “Why?”

  The confusion in his voice added to her own confusion. “I thought you sent him to find her. To fix your mess. Is that not true?”

  “He kicked me out, Hanna. I didn’t see or talk to my father until Derrick and Ellie’s engagement party a few months ago. Even then, we spoke for less than fifteen minutes and there was nothing friendly about it.” All of the confidence, those charming smiles and the carefree attitude he carried around had vanished. “And that was well after Gena’s death.”

  “But he’s your father. He still cleans up after you.”

  Carter’s stunned expression morphed into something else. Frustration pulsed off him. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need Daddy to fix anything for me. And, honestly, he’s the last person I would ask for help.”

  That fit with how her father used to talk about Eldrick, but not with anything else. “You’re saying you didn’t send him to see Gena.”

  “Of course not.” Carter sounded appalled at the idea. “For what?”

  “I wasn’t there.”

  She wished she had been. If she had stuck around and continued to live with her sister she would have seen the relationship between Gena and Carter and she would have been there when Carter’s father came knocking and making threats. She’d lived through her own version of his intimidation when he tried to bribe her after Gena died, but she hadn’t been alone and afraid. Hanna couldn’t imagine how scary that must have been for her sister.

  Carter crossed his arms over his chest. “But you know what he said to her.”

  “To stay away from you.” It was a sanitized version but good enough.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I was already in California. And I never told Dad that I spent a weekend with Gena.”

  “Because you were ashamed of it?”

  “Because in addition to the fact my sex life is private, I go out of my way not to tell him anything.” The longer Carter spoke, the more his voice rose.

  Every possible comeback froze in her head. Every word he said changed every fact she thought she knew. The ground kept shifting under her until she didn’t know what to believe or think. “Fine.”

  “Fine? You basically accused me of lying and, worse, of driving your sister to her death.”

  That’s not... “I didn’t.”

  “You think I’m some spoiled rich kid, running to Daddy.”

  She fought off a wince. “Look around you, Carter. Do you blame me? A house the size of an elementary school is standing behind you. The pool, the guesthouse. All these acres so close to Washington, D.C.”

  And the estate was only a small part of the Jameson empire. She’d read the business articles. They owned commercial and residential buildings throughout the area and down as far as North Carolina. The business. The other houses. That didn’t even touch the cars, the money, the stocks and whatever else they had acquired.

  He nodded. “For what you’re suggesting? Yeah, I do blame you.”

  “We knew each other as kids. Maybe we weren’t friends but I remember you from back then. You didn’t act ashamed of the money or the family name.” He’d been cocky and proud. The guy most likely to do anything. He partied and brought girls home when his father was away on business.

  “Do you want to be judged by things you did years ago?”

  She hated that he made her sound unfair, made her feel that way. “I guess that depends on if I have anything to hide.”

  His shoulders fell as he let out a long exhale. “You are dead wrong about me.”

  “Possibly.” She stood there, trying to hold on to her preconceived notions of who she thought he was, but they no longer fit him as cleanly as she thought they once did.

  “I’m not sure what I did to you to invite your distrust or what my father was doing six months ago, but I am sorry about Gena.” Carter unwound his arms and let them fall motionless to his sides. “I really am.”

  A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t swallow it or clear it away because she believed him. She forced a word out over it. “Okay.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say to me?”

  Her mind spun. She tried to think of what to say and explain how she’d viewed him through this specific lens because it was easier for her to tag him as spoiled than deal with the actual man. And now her defenses and biases were crashing at her feet and the vulnerability left her shaky and uncertain.

  When she didn’t say anything, he did a quick look around, then nodded. “Enjoy your walk.”

  Then he was gone.

  * * *

  She didn’t see him the rest of the day but his words, that pained expression on his face, kept running through her mind. She’d accused him and then tried to ignore every response he offered. It had been the only way to hold on to that wall of anger she’d built. Letting that go meant leaving room for the pain and grief to sweep in.

  It was easier to hate Carter and his father than to deal with her sister’s death. She’d constructed this scenario where Carter refused to take responsibility, and that had started crumbling. But maybe she wanted it to crumble because then her attraction would make sense and be okay. The guilt would evaporate.

  She could no longer tell the difference between how she wanted to see him and how she needed to see him for self-protection.

  As she lay on the bedroom floor, sprawled on the fluffy carpet she’d just vacuumed for the third time, she had to admit she wasn’t that great at responsibility either. She’d walked away from her sister when Gena refused to ease up on the partying. She’d seen Gena spinning out of control and tried to help, but then hadn’t stuck around for the last round. And now her sister was dead.

  An ache started low in her stomach, then it traveled. It seeped through her veins and landed in her chest. The weight had her rubbing the heel of her hand against her breastbone in the hope of wiping it out.

  She took one last look under the bed, just to see if her father had hidden anything there. He had been the type to squirrel away money, in random coffee mugs, tucked in an envelope on the underside of his sock drawer, curled up in a small bag and rammed into an old boot at the bottom of his closet. She’d found all of those hiding places, but money was not her target.

  Dad said his journal didn’t have anything but everyday ramblings inside and that he only kept it to drive away the loneliness that settled in at night. But she still wanted to find it. It was a long shot, but if the journal still existed she wanted to read it. Just to see if there were any hints about a falling-out with Carter’s father or problems at the house that could explain her father’s sudden death.

  That’s why she was there, but Carter wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

  She needed him to be a jerk. That fit the story she had in her head. If he was a jerk, then she could roll her eyes over her stupid teen crush and move on. She could forget him and be satisfied that she’d ripped up the bribery check his father had offered in return for her never contacting Carter and neve
r talking to him about the baby.

  She could still hear the steady beat of Eldrick Jameson’s words, how insistent he’d been back then. In her mind she remembered it as fury about the baby and Carter’s choices, which she assumed Eldrick thought were beneath his son. Now she wondered if that tone really signaled desperation over something bigger.

  She glanced up at the ceiling and the dark beams that gave the cottage a cozy chalet feel. Her gaze followed the one in the middle, then moved to the next. The old wood had a certain charm. A bit ragged and...discolored. Not all of it. Just a swath at the far edge of one beam. A square facing away from the main part of the room, as if someone tried to patch it and used the wrong stain.

  She sat up, squinting and moving her head as if either would give her a better angle. When those attempts didn’t work, she got up. Climbed on the armrest of the couch and reached up, but her fingers only grazed the wood. She needed something higher. With a quick look around, she spied the bar stool. It would be wobbly and not smart, so of course she was going to use it as a makeshift ladder.

  After a quick run to the kitchen to fetch the hammer, she grabbed the bar stool. She didn’t know if either item would help, but the off-color piece of beam would bug her all night if she didn’t get a closer look.

  As predicted, the bar stool shimmied when she put one foot on it. Balancing a hand on a couch armrest, she tried to find her equilibrium, silently cursing herself for not paying more attention to all that “core” talk in the free Pilates class she’d attended. After a few more seconds, she let go and stood up. One hand grabbed the beam, anchoring her a bit.

  She ran her fingers over the scarred wood and felt a ridge. With a tug, she pulled open a door she didn’t even know was there and felt around inside what she now assumed was some sort of lockbox without any lock. A small metal box came out in her hand. Lowering it as she stepped off the stool, she peeked inside and shuffled through the contents. A folded-up birth certificate—her father’s—and a passport, which had expired more than a decade ago. Two coins she couldn’t identify and a photo of her parents.