by Kylie Walker
“You're saying I'm impossible to please,” he remarked dourly, shuffling his papers and putting them down on the blanket.
“I can categorically state it,” I retorted. “In fact, that's why I'm here.”
“Oh? You've come to put me in my place while I'm in a hospital bed and can't get up and walk off?”
I hadn't thought of it that way but hell, he was right. He couldn't go far with a drip and IV line attached to him. “Now that you put it like that, yeah, I guess I'm here for that.”
He grimaced. “Hit me with it.”
“Did Will Sheridon take the money you offered him?”
I could tell I'd surprised him. His head jerked back like I'd slapped him, and his already gray pallor turned a shade of puce. I could see the cogs working, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out what I knew, how to answer, and what the repercussions of his reply would be.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked, and I knew he was trying to buy more time.
“Why shouldn't I?” I narrowed my gaze at him. “He was the first guy I fell in love with.”
“A lifetime ago,” he snapped. “When you were nothing but a foolish girl and I had to save you from yourself and your damn silly choices.”
“I see you're not denying you offered him money.” A smirk twisted my lips. I'd led him right into that trap and he'd fallen hook, line, and sinker.
His reaction was the epitome of satisfying, then it turned frightening. I could see beads of sweat start to pop up on his forehead, and a beep suddenly sounded in the room making me jerk.
“Calm down, dad,” I bit off, eying the monitors attached to him.
He turned to view the readouts and grimaced, then scowled at a nurse who popped her head into the room to check on him. “Everything okay in here?” she asked, cocking a brow at Daniel.
“Yeah. I'm fine. Just got a bit—”
“Flustered?” I interrupted, earning myself a glower.
He gave a sharp nod, and submitted to the nurse's attentions for a few moments more. By the time she left, I knew I'd lost my edge and that my edge had almost triggered an episode.
What the hell had my dad done for his stress levels to rise so quickly?
When the nurse left, I remained quiet. But I didn't excuse myself or my questions. I wanted him to know, without words, that the subject was still very much on the table.
After a few minutes where he tried to get his breathing back on track, his eyes closed as he avoided me, he finally sucked in a deep breath. “I offered him money to leave you alone.”
“I know. I overheard you and mom arguing about it. Fifty grand.”
Daniel nodded. Once. “She wasn't pleased with what I did.”
“No, nor should she have been,” I snarled. “It was bang out of order. You had no right.”
“I had every right. I'm your father. I'll always want what's best for you, even if you think that's too much. I know what you're capable of, I've always known you were made for greatness.”
“I'm an attorney, dad. I'm not Usain freakin' Bolt. Or the next President.”
“No, you're not now, but you're built to be a politician. That's where I always saw you. If you're going to be someone, you can't have a nobody at your side, holding you back.”
“You've obviously never checked up on Will since you paid him off. He's a billionaire hedge funder.” I sneered at him. “Does he suit now? Does he fit the role of husband to the next POTUS?”
“Will Sheridon's a billionaire?” he sputtered.
“Yeah. He is. The irony is, more than his wealth now, I'd have been more settled with Will at my side. I loved him, and he loved me.”
Daniel clenched his jaw. “Love. What did you kids know about love?”
“A lot more than you did or do,” I growled back. “I want to know what happened. What you did.”
“Why? What good would it do to know?”
“Because he's back in my life, and I want to know your side of it. I'm giving you the chance to redeem yourself, dad. You're not doing that great a job of it so far.”
His lips firmed. “I did what I had to do to protect you.”
“You keep saying that. I didn't feel protected. I felt betrayed. Just tell me what went down and we don't have to talk about this ever again.”
“Why is he back in your life?”
“I'm working on a case of his.” I let him change the subject, but I'd only let him go so far.
“What kind of case?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
“You know better than to ask. Client confidentiality forbids me...”
“Less of that. I know the score.”
“Then why ask?” I snapped.
Daniel lifted a shaky hand and finally removed his glasses. He perched them on the table and used his pointer finger to move them around the surface. “I offered him a substantial amount to leave you alone.”
“I know. But what happened then?”
A long silence fell. “Will didn't accept my offer.”
For a second, the whole world seemed to freeze. And then, with a kick to my solar plexus, the universe spun into gear. “He didn't accept your offer?” I repeated the words, uncertain as to what to do now.
All these years…
Wasted.
“You knew, didn't you? You knew that I'd overheard the conversation.” I thought I’d been smart by catching him in a lie, but my dad was the consummate game player. Damn him.
He scraped a hand across his jaw. “I figured as much. I was never sure how much you'd heard though.”
“You must have realized I thought the worst.”
“It was what I wanted you to think,” he admitted, tilting his head back against the pillow. “I got my wish without having to spend fifty grand for the privilege.”
“You bastard,” I hissed, hatred spilled through my veins. “You cold-hearted bastard.”
A sigh escaped him. “Honey, I’m sorry.”
That deflated my anger some. I'd never heard my father admit to any flaw. He was too goddamned arrogant for his own good.
“I-I have to go,” I told him, my voice shaky. I got to my feet, but my knees felt weak. My legs, too. I wasn't sure how I was going to leave his private room never mind the hospital or make it out onto the road.
I rested my hands at the foot of the bed, using them to keep me upright. Dad sat up a little. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I'm not.” That exhaustion from before reappeared. I was too fucking tired to snap at him, to rail at him even though deep down, I wanted to. Instead, I wanted to curl up and sleep again. I wanted to hide from this, hide from my loss.
Because that's how I felt.
I was grieving.
Mourning the lost years. The lost memories and times.
And all out of a misunderstanding. A simple misunderstanding that had destroyed the happiest relationship I'd ever had, the one that had brought me more joy than any other.
No wonder Will had told me he hated me. He had the right to. I'd believed he'd sold out, I'd cast him as the sinner when all along, he'd done nothing wrong.
Will. I had to go to him. I had to… apologize. Do something. Anything to make this right.
If that was even possible.
Chapter 11
WILL
I was nervous.
I wouldn't lie.
Daniel Wilson was a bastard. I doubt that would have changed with the years. In fact, I imagined the older he became, his worst tendencies would only deteriorate.
I wouldn't have put it past him to lie to Abby, to perpetuate the myth that I'd sold out. To keep us from being together.
God, if he did that, I wasn't sure what I'd do.
Praying that a near-death experience had changed him, I faced facts. As unlikely as it was, the guy I'd once been wanted Abby as much as he'd ever wanted her.
Everything, all the past, the misery, it had faded at the sight of her.
When Daniel had offered me the money, everything
had happened so quickly afterward. We'd left maybe weeks later for college. Every time I'd tried to see Abby, to get in touch with her, somehow, it had never worked out. Her friends had been no help; they'd obviously thought the worst of me too. As far as I knew, Abby hadn't left the house at all in those weeks. She'd stayed in, and had transferred to a different college. One that meant I wouldn't be on the same campus as her.
I'd been tried and found guilty without doing a damned thing.
Her heartbreak gave me a certain bittersweet hope. She'd been devastated because she'd loved me so much. But if she had, then how could she have thought I'd do something like that?
It was a thought process that brought no joy, only more misery.
The truth of it was, ever since Abby had come back into my life, I hadn't even thought about this bullshit blackmail. It was nothing. Unimportant. I could pay the bitch off easily. I'd been stubborn though. Refusing to pay because I was pissed at being caught, literally, with my trousers down.
Now, everything was centered on Abby.
In a sense, it always had been.
A breath gusted from me as I closed the lid on my laptop. The exchange markets were a blur. The usual trends that popped up when I viewed them, the magic that my brain seemed to be able to work when I sat before the markets wasn't there.
I hoped it was a temporary situation otherwise I'd find myself out of pocket very swiftly.
I had a hedge fund to manage, and clients who had expectations. Big ones. All I needed was Abby to settle my nerves.
It was crazy how she was the only person who affected me in that way. She always had been able to. I remembered once, back in sophomore class, we'd had an argument and I'd failed two exams that week.
She was my weakness.
A vulnerability.
I should walk away from someone who had such power over me, but I'd lived without her for so long, I knew what it was like and I preferred the alternative.
The Abby of today had way more spark than before. She had an attitude, and she wasn't afraid to make her opinions known. But I liked that. I'd changed too. I wasn't the same kid she'd known once upon a time. I wasn't hesitant like before, or afraid of change. There were things we'd both have to acclimate to, things we'd both have to accept if we wanted to make this work.
And Christ, I wanted her in my life more than anything.
Already, she was taking up so much space in my head, it should have been laughable. As it stood, I knew it was how it was supposed to be.
Running a hand through my hair, I sat back in my seat and let it rock. The swaying motion encouraged me to fidget, and I knew I had to do something between now and Abby coming to see me.
Hell, she might not have gone to visit her father right away—Chase said she'd asked for time off to do that, but she might have been lying. Not only that, if she had gone to see her father, there was no guarantee she'd come to me immediately.
Rapping my knuckles against the armrest, I was wondering if I should head out for a run. I had to do something to burn off this nervous energy, this tension, and almost as though that was the turning point, my door buzzer sounded. The little machine I had on my desk beeped and an image of the person standing at my doorstep popped up.
I pumped the air with satisfaction at the sight of her, and almost leaped to my feet in my haste to get to the door. Something stopped me in my tracks though. I peered down at the screen and sighed. She'd been crying, and she looked, to put it mildly, haggard.
Her hair was a little messy but still a neat top knot when I'd left her that afternoon. She'd been a bit rumpled, but not noticeably so, and she'd been bright-eyed, attentive.
Now, her hair had fallen loose of the top knot to pour around her shoulders in a bright wave. Her face was pink and blotchy, her nose a raw red. Her clothes were creased and as far as I could tell, she was using the door to hold herself up.
That must have been one hell of a conversation with her father.
As I walked to the door, I realized how much Abby meant to me.
It was a simple.
But Abby wasn't business. Abby was simply pleasure.
I sighed at the thought and opened the door. The instant she saw me, her bottom lip started to tremble and I sighed again, opening my arms, and praying like hell she'd fall into them.
When I thought that, I didn't think literally fall, but she did. She tumbled into my hold and I staggered a little when she transferred all her weight onto me. Sweeping down, I grabbed her behind the knees and lifted her into my arms. Kicking the door closed behind me, I nuzzled my face into her hair as I walked down the hall and took her into my favorite room in the house—my study.
The Chesterfield armchair beckoned. I knew it would help me sit upright enough to support her, while giving her enough room not to be squashed. When I sat back and kept a tight hold on her, she cuddled into me, her face pushed into my throat. I could feel her tears dampening my skin. I hated knowing she was crying but in a sense, I knew they were cathartic tears. They would cleanse and soothe once the rawness had faded.
I knew from experience.
Abby, I'd once vowed, had been the one and only woman I would cry over. I'd kept that promise to myself, because no other had ever touched me as deeply as she had.
Now, I knew that was because she'd always had a hold on my heart.
I rubbed my cheek against her hair, a sigh of pleasure escaping me at having her this close to me.
Only this afternoon, she'd been fighting me. Bucking at my hold. Yet here she was, cuddling into me, needing me. It was like being in heaven. I understood that whole story about a beggar at the feast.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked eventually, having let the silence settle about us and wanting her to calm down so she was rational enough to think and talk without her emotions clouding the matter.
I felt her chin tremble again. “He knew.”
I cocked a brow at that. “What did he know?”
She pulled back to look at me. “That I listened in. He knew. And he lied by omission.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard my parents arguing. That's how I knew why you'd left. My mom was yelling at dad, telling him he had no right to try to buy you off. Dad knew I was listening, and he never said a word about you not accepting the money. And mom, well, she didn't know I could hear, but I guess she was just mad at what he did.” She said. “All those years, lost, because I overheard the wrong end of a conversation.”
“You should have come to me,” I told her, my voice soft. It was hard to remove the censure from my tone, but years of hiding my true emotions on a business footing helped me achieve the right note.
She looked up at me, defiance blended with sorrow. “I hated you for leaving me. I couldn't have gone to you to talk about it. You broke my heart, Will. I've never...” She shuddered. “I've never felt such pain before.”
“You weren't alone, Abby. We've both suffered.”
Her lip quivered again and she covered her face with both hands. “I've been such a fool.”
A deep sigh escaped me. “You were young. I was too. I guess I could have found a way to meet you. To try to get you to learn the truth.”
She shook her head. “I closed myself off after I heard my parents argue. I didn't leave the house until it was time to pack for college.”
“I didn't think you left all that much. I tried to get to see you, tried to talk to your friends...”
“There was no point. They all knew what you'd done.” She bit her lip. “What you'd supposedly done.”
My smile was crooked. “Thank you for the amendment.”
“I should have believed in us, shouldn't I?”
She sounded so lost, I couldn't help but lift a hand and wipe away the tears brimming on her bottom set of lashes. “You should have, yes. But it’s not all lost.”
“It isn't?”
I shook my head. “No. I don't think you'd be on my knee like this if it was.”
“I guess not,” she whispered. “W-Where do we go from here?”
“Wherever you want to.”
She let our gazes disconnect, choosing to stare down at her knees as she whispered, “I'm not...”
“What?” I asked, when she let her words fall by the by.
Abby peered up at me again. “I'm not like that woman.”
My blackmailer? “I know you're not. Thank God.”
“Doesn't that bother you? Isn't it a problem?”
“Oh Abby. I love a little adventure. You up for that?” Her eyes flared wide which was an answer in itself. I smirked and tilted my head so I could press a kiss to her red nose. “I think we'll get along just fine.”
She let the silence fall again, even going so far as to tip her head back against my arm to rest it against the leather cushions. Her gaze was on my face, and I knew she was studying me. Because she'd relaxed, I decided to let things calm down too. I tilted my own head back but I stared up at the ceiling, content to let her take in her fill.
It was a surprising moment. Mostly because I realized how content I was.
Abby was in my arms, and she didn't hate me. In fact, it was the opposite. She realized her hatred had been for nothing. Today was a turning point, the first day of a whole new world.
I wished this morning I'd known how epic it was going to be. I'd have woken up in a better mood.
“I missed you,” she whispered after God only knew how much time had passed with us sitting in the quiet of my study. “I missed this.”
I turned to look at her. “I know,” I told her, because I felt the same.
“I could never find somebody to just sit with. To simply be. They always want to talk. Even Joze. I think that was one of the hardest things to do without your company.”
She was right. It had been hard to live without her. She'd been my companion for so long that being without her had made me feel out of sorts. A companion was more than just a friend. At least, I felt it was. A companion was a friend, but it went deeper than that. The connection enabled you to be together, quietly content with one another's company without having to talk or engage in any discussion. That option was always there, but the peace and quiet was truly the most beautiful aspect of companionship.
