I get more support from a cheap bra than I do my own parents.
They’ve never been there for me before and I don’t need them now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucas
It’s another day, and I’m dealing with another crisis call from Lacey. At least that’s what it feels like. She’s been sitting here for hours ranting about God knows what, and I’m sick of listening because I can’t get the image of her leaving his place out of my head.
I slam down my glass, making her jump. She frowns at me, her brow furrowed, no doubt trying to figure out what my problem is. I laugh to myself. She’s my fucking problem. She always has been.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asks, her tone accusing.
“I’ve been listening to your shit for the last three hours,” I growl.
Her eyebrows shoot up. I know I should shut up, but I’m nowhere near done.
“Maybe if you’d spend less time in his bed you wouldn’t be finding the whole process so stressful,” I snap.
The blood drains from her face. The room is so quiet I can hear the ticking of the clock as I try to gather the words to apologize. I open my mouth, the words stuck in my throat. Not that it matters. I can’t take back what I’ve just said.
“How do you even know that?” she whispers.
I cringe, realizing how big I’ve fucked up. How could I possibly know that unless I was there, watching her? I shudder, embarrassed and ashamed by my own actions.
“Lucas?” she asks, her voice shrill. “How did you know I…” She stops and stares at me, realization hitting her face. My heart pounds so hard that it’s ringing in my ears. “Tell me how you knew that.”
“I saw you leave his place.”
I say it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, so casual, like I just happened to pass his apartment during a morning stroll at the very moment she was leaving. Bullshit.
“You saw me?” she repeats, still in shock. “What…How could you…What were you doing there?” She sits forward and faces me, forcing me to look at her. “Lucas,” she demands, her voice urgent. “Tell me what you were doing there. Were you following me? Or were you following Aaron?”
I slump forward and sigh, my body language answering her question. She lets out a harsh laugh, and there’s no mistaking how angry she is.
“Let me explain,” I begin, not even sure how I’m going to.
“Explain what?” she gasps, my calmness seeming to spur her anger on. Not that I blame her, because there is no explaining this. There is no excuse for me following her. “Why do you hate him so much? Is it jealousy? Because that’s the only thing I can think of, only it makes no sense because you didn’t want me.” She’s almost crying now and I can’t even look at her. Her pain rips my heart out because she has no idea how fucking wrong she is.
I lift my gaze, my eyes finally meeting hers.
“Remember, Lucas?”
“I’ve always wanted you,” I say quietly.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
She laughs and jumps to her feet, moving over to the other side of the room, as far away from me as she can. I want to console her but I don’t. I can’t, because my feet are glued to the floor. I don’t trust myself not to do something stupid. I run my hands through my hair, my eyes stinging with emotion.
“You don’t get to do this,” she hisses, her body shaking. “I’ve gotten over you, Lucas. It took me a long time, but I did it. I had to because you didn’t want me. You don’t get to act all psycho, like a crazy ex-boyfriend about Aaron. If I want to start something with him then that’s my—”
“He’s my father,” I roar, interrupting her.
Her jaw drops as she glares at me. She leans against the wall behind her for support as my words sink in. I feel dizzy and sick and a hundred other emotions as I wait for her to say something. Anything. But she doesn’t.
“Aaron is my father, Lace,” I repeat. I never intended for her to find out like this, but she’s the whole reason I kept this secret. If I’ve already lost her, then what’s the point? “I haven’t seen him in years, and then suddenly he’s your boss? You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”
“What are you talking about?” she whispers. But I see it in her eyes that she’s just beginning to understand what I’m saying: That he sought her out. He hired her because of her friendship with me. Everything was a lie. This whole fucking internship was a goddamned lie to get to me. My rage boils over. Was seducing her part of his game, too, or was that just a bonus?
Sobbing, she runs for the door, snatching her keys off the hall table as she passes. I put my hand out to stop her, but she shrugs me off.
“Don’t, Lucas. I have to get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lacey
I’ve had all night to figure out what I’m going to say, but the second I pound on that door, all my thoughts disappear. He opens the door, the colour draining from his face when he sees me standing there. He knows. I don’t bother trying to mask my anger. Instead I push past him and storm into his apartment, wiping away tears. I’m so humiliated, but more than that, I’m ashamed I let myself fall for his charms when it was exactly what he wanted.
“Did you know who I was before you interviewed me?” I demand.
“Lacey—”
“Answer my question,” I say, my voice rising.
He hesitates for a moment, and then nods.
I laugh, hurt and embarrassed. This is unbelievable. “Was there even an internship at all, or was that just a lie to draw me in?”
“I didn’t lie to you, Lacey. I just withheld some things from you.” He sighs and tries to touch my hand, but I jerk it away. I laugh, incredulous. Is he serious?
“Why? I don’t understand why you would do this. Is Lucas right? Is this some twisted game, your way of fucking up his life even more?” I ask. I’m shouting now, but I don’t care. I don’t care if the whole damn building hears me, I’m going to say what I came here to say.
“Calm down and listen, for God’s sake,” he growls. “If you’d just let me explain—”
“That’s the thing,” I say, shrugging him off. I hold my hands up and back away from him. “I don’t have to listen to your bullshit anymore. Stay the hell away from me, okay?”
**
As soon as I get back home, I call Lucas.
Even though I’m not expecting much conversation from him, I at least owe him an explanation from last night. I’m still angry, but nowhere near the level I was. In his own weird way, I know he was just looking out for me, and besides, I can’t imagine how he must be feeling with Aaron back in his life.
“I’m surprised you’re talking to me,” Lucas says when he answers the phone. “And I’m even more shocked you actually went to see him.”
I smile at his joke spite of my anger at his joke. “Yeah, well, I’m in the mood to punch someone. It might as well be him.”
“You didn’t,” Lucas laughs.
“No, but I wanted to.” I smirk. “I told him to stick his internship.”
“You can’t do that, Lace,” he argues. “Don’t give him the satisfaction. Use him like he used you and get the reference you deserve.”
Wow. I never expected him to be telling me to go back there. I thought he’d want me to stay as far away from Aaron as possible. But the more I think about it, I know he’s right.
At the very least, I deserve that reference. I open my mouth to answer and the doorbell rings.
“I have to go,” I mutter. I run to answer it, assuming it’s one of Ariel’s friends. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? And Lucas? Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“Who, me?” he asks innocently.
I groan and shove the phone in my pocket.
Yanking open the door, I nearly fall over when I see Aaron standing there.
“Lacey, please just hear me out. Please.” His eyes catch mine and I sigh, positive I’m going to regret this. I move aside
and let him in. “Thank you.”
I lead him into the kitchen where I can keep a safe distance between us. I stand on one side of the counter with him on the other. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him, my expression stoic. I can’t possibly imagine what he could have left to say to me. He leans against the counter, placing his palms flat against the thick marble surface.
“I’m sick.”
“Sick?” I repeat, my heart catching in my throat. Sick can mean many things. It can mean a cold, or a virus…or it can mean something more serious. “How sick?”
“Three years ago I was diagnosed with leukaemia. I had intensive treatment and I went into remission. About three months ago, I began feeling run down again. I was having night sweats, and fatigue. I knew what it meant, but I didn’t want to believe it…” His voice trails off. He stares at the counter and takes a deep breath. “Six weeks ago I finally caved and saw my specialist. The cancer is back.”
“So you treat it again, right?” I say. My heart pounds. He can’t be saying what I think he is. It just isn’t possible. “More chemotherapy. What about radiation? Or stem cell treatment?”
“In the words of my specialist, I’ve exhausted all treatment paths.” He hesitates before adding: “It’s terminal.”
“Wow,” I mumble. How am I supposed to respond to that? “How long…?” I can’t finish the sentence, but he knows what I mean.
“It’s a slow-growing cancer. I might have a year. Maybe five.” He shrugs. “Not knowing how much time you have left puts a lot of things into perspective. I tried to speak to Lucas after I was diagnosed, but he didn’t want anything to do with me.” He moves around the counter and takes my hand. I glance down. I’m shaking. “I know I’ve gone about this all wrong, but I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. I thought if I could convince you that I’m a decent guy—”
“Then I could convince Lucas to forgive you,” I finish, my body numb.
He nods. “Only I didn’t expect this.”
“This?” I repeat, confused.
He pulls me closer to him, moving my arms around his waist. My heart races as his fingers touch my face, placing his mouth against mine. I shiver, losing myself in his kiss as unanswered questions whirl around in my head.
What am I doing?
I break away, angry that he’s doing this to me again. Him being sick doesn’t make any difference to the fact that he lied to me. He used me. I hold my head, willing the tears to stay away as I put distance between us.
“I think you should go,” I mutter.
“Lacey,” he begins, his expression crushed.
“Just leave.”
He nods and steps away from me. I don’t look at him as he walks over to the door because if I do, I’ll break. Turning around, I listen for the sound of the door closing. When I hear it, I let myself react. Stretching my arms across the kitchen counter, I put my head down. He’s sick? I can’t believe it. He doesn’t look sick. How can he be dying when he looks so healthy? How can he be so sick yet work so damn much? It doesn’t make any sense.
I thought things couldn’t get any worse. After everything that has happened, I was sure the only way left was up.
Apparently I was wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lacey
It’s Monday morning, and the nerves that are flying around my stomach are out of control. I feel sick—probably from the four coffees I’ve had and the lack of sleep. I take a deep breath and pass through reception before I can change my mind.
The weekend was hell. All I could think about was Aaron being sick and how fucked up everything is. I almost didn’t come back—ironically it was Lucas who convinced me I needed closure. If only he knew the whole story. I fought with myself whether to tell him, but in the end the only thing I could do was avoid him as much as possible. It’s not my place to tell him the truth.
He needs to hear it from him.
Aaron’s eyes widen as I walk into his office. He stands up, his dark eyes searching mine for answers that aren’t there. He walks over to me, his hand twitching as if he wanted to touch me but second-guessed himself. I step back, keeping the distance between us safe.
“Lacey,” he murmurs softly. “I didn’t expect to see you back here.”
“I wasn’t going to come,” I admit. “Lucas convinced me, because at the very least, you owe me this. I need this on my resume.”
“I owe you more than some silly reference,” he replies. “Let me help you. I can get you a job—”
“I don’t need your help,” I cut in. “All I want is what I’ve worked for.”
He walks around his desk towards me. My heart pounds and I step back, because I can’t handle him being that close to me. Regardless of who he is, I can’t just turn off my feelings for him, and Lucas is right: I need to finish what I started, for my own sake.
**
“Lacey?”
I get up from my chair and walk over to Aaron’s office, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. The sound of his voice still gets to me, even after everything that’s gone down.
“Get you jacket. We have to go to …”
“Has something happened?” I ask, catching the urgency in his voice.
“Duane just attempted suicide. He’s in Clearwater Hospital in intensive care. We need to get down there so I can find out what happened.”
Wow. This was the last thing I expected. I quickly gather my bag and jacket, and wait for Aaron outside his office. I know I need to be impartial, but I can’t help but think how much better the world is without him. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t know. Probably.
We walk out to the parking lot where Aaron has his car and get on our way. As we leave the city, I close my eyes, taking the chance to get some rest while I can. My well-timed nap also negates the need for two-hour awkward conversation fillers. Being in the car with Aaron for that long after all that has happened hadn’t even entered my head until we started driving.
I don’t sleep much of the way, but the entire time I pretend, even when we stop for gas. If the situation wasn’t so serious I’d laugh at the lengths I’m going to avoid speaking to him. But I don’t know what to say, so for now this is the best I can do.
As we pull into the facility, I open my eyes and stretch out my arms. I look around, pretending that I’m trying to work out where we are. I rub my eyes for effect and stretch my arms out along the length of my body.
“You slept the whole way,” he comments, turning off the engine.
“I guess I was tired,” I muse. “Why are we here and not the hospital? Doesn’t it make sense to see him first?”
“I got a call as I was paying for gas,” he murmurs, turning to face me. His eyes look troubled. “I didn’t want to wake you. Duane is dead. He died from an overdose.”
Holy shit. I struggle to take in the news. What does that mean for the case, and for Aaron? For us? I’m awful for even thinking about myself, but if we don’t have the case, I no longer have a reason to see him. That should make me happy, but it doesn’t.
We get through security, and I hang around in the waiting area while Aaron speaks to the clinic manager to get more information on what happened. I wander over to the worn, two-seater sofa and sit down, picking up a magazine from the stack sitting on the coffee table on the way. I flick through the pages of the gossip magazine, not really reading, because I can’t focus on anything other than Duane’s death. I’m glad he’s dead, but from experience, I know that won’t bring his victim’s family closure.
“Are you ready?”
I look up and nod at Aaron, placing the magazine back on the stack.
“So, what happens now?” I ask, following him out.
“They’ll launch an investigation into his death, and decide if anything could have been done to prevent it. For me, it’s case closed. I move on to the next one.”
“Or maybe you take a break and let yourself rest?” I suggest. It’s the first we’ve mentioned his illness sin
ce my place.
He laughs. “I’ll rest when I’m dead, Lacey.” His laughter ceases when he sees my frown. “Sorry, I guess I’m not as funny as I think I am.”
“No,” I retort. “You’re not. And you can’t expect this not to take a toll on your body. If you wear yourself down—”
“I didn’t tell you so you could nurse me back to health, Lacey. Please stop treating me like your special patient.” His words cut through me and I flinch.
I glance down, muttering an apology to him.
“No, I’m sorry,” he says with a sigh. “There is nothing you or I—or anyone, for that matter—can do. If you want to help me, just pretend I never told you, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.” It’s his decision not to fight this, so I don’t have a choice but to respect his wishes, but in the back of my mind I know it’s not the type of thing you can easily forget.
“What’s that?” I murmur, straining to see into the distance through the torrential rain that is pouring down around us. Flashing lights come into view. I’m not surprised to see it’s an accident, especially in this weather. We’re halfway home, and the whole drive it’s been raining heavily.
We slow to a stop at the insistence of a police car about a half mile out from the crash. Aaron winds down his window and smiles at the approaching officer.
“Evening, folks. Sorry to say you won’t be getting across the bridge tonight. Not for a good few hours, at least.”
“Is there another way through?” Aaron asks, his brow creasing.
“Not unless you want to add a few hours to your trip,” the officer replies apologetically. “There is a motel a little way down that road,” he says, pointing to the dirt road we just passed. “I’ve sent a few people that way tonight, though, so I can’t tell you if they have room.”
“Okay, thanks for the tip.” Aaron winds up the window and sighs. “So, any late night plans you’re rushing back for?” he asks.
“No,” I say, sure Lucas will forgive me for standing him up. It’s not like I have a choice. “What do you want to do?” I ask.
Conflicted Page 14
