Natalie didn’t say anything. But then she didn’t have to.
* * *
The words echoed in Charlie’s head as she drove out of Innocence. She’d stayed only another half hour, needing some time alone to think.
The weather matched her mood, the sun retreating under a mass of black clouds that hurled sleet at the roads. Thanks to the many days of rain and the rapidly cooling temperature, she had to split her attention between the curving roads and the sickening realization of her own delusions.
Natalie’s story had burrowed under her skin, itching and festering until Charlie wanted to scrub it out. She hadn’t known what she was going to find, hadn’t known if her suspicions would be confirmed or not, and didn’t know what to do now that all her theories and long-held beliefs had been both confirmed and shot to hell in one breath.
A wish was not responsible for her mom’s change. At least, not directly.
She might have had to be bashed on the head with it a dozen times, but the truth cemented now she’d heard from Natalie. She’d had as much a raw deal as Charlie but hadn’t spent her life being bitter. She’d got on, making her glass, spending as much time with her daughter as she could. When Charlie had asked why she didn’t go to New York to sell her glass, thinking it was on Director Clare’s heartless, selfish orders, wanting to keep a dirty secret hidden, Natalie had admitted she liked the wilderness, the peace of a quiet life. No funny business, no shady deals. No wish that had twisted its winner. Just a bad man who’d happened to be a Genie. Just coincidences. Just an excuse.
Charlie had created it all in her head.
Genies might not all be benevolent do-gooders like Jax thought, but then were all humans? Why should one race be held to a higher standard than another?
As for the wishes . . . WFY’s records had never hidden when a wish had unluckily gone awry. And the kicker was when she’d looked into the car crash and the jewelry heist, there had been vague mentions of WFY donating money or time or help to whatever the situation required. Helping. Caring. She just hadn’t wanted to see it because it didn’t fit into her theory.
Wishes were not evil. It was all down to luck, what the winner did with the wish given. So her mom . . .
Her stomach tied itself into knots a sailor would be proud of as she pushed that uncomfortable truth aside.
As she guided the rental car around the steep S bends she’d maneuvered earlier in the sun, Natalie’s attitude toward her husband, the reason why she’d originally bought the ticket, rose in her mind.
I don’t blame him for leaving—what kind of relationship can you have without trust?
She nibbled on her lip as she braked and took one of the corners at a slower pace. It hit closer to home than she liked to admit.
If she were really honest with herself, shine-a-light-on-her-soul honest, she hadn’t trusted Jax. He’d laid it all out for her when he’d asked her to move in. The Genie who’d never committed had said he loved her and that he wanted to live with her. And she had turned him down.
She hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d thought of it as taking time, making sure, keeping part of herself back just in case. But that wasn’t love, it wasn’t trust. Natalie was right—what kind of relationship can you have if you don’t trust the person with your whole heart?
Jax had sworn he would still love her, a big thing for a man who hadn’t even liked admitting he was in love in the first place. He’d made an effort to phone her every day, he’d listened to her about wishes, about Genies, even going so far as to smuggle out confidential files even when he didn’t believe her. He’d punched somebody on live TV for insulting her and then refused to apologize, even when the punishment was being sent to a foreign country for an unknown length of time.
He was right; her mom really had screwed her up.
She didn’t like trusting people not to betray her. That was what it boiled down to. Her mom had betrayed her when she’d wished for beauty and left Charlie alone. On some level, she must have always known—that was why she’d always kept people at a safe, untouched distance. Except for Kate, who maneuvered her way in before you saw her coming.
A brief smile touched her lips but quickly dropped as she followed the thought to its conclusion. If she wanted a real relationship with Jax, an honest-to-God, no-holds-barred, pillow-sniffing, sad-song-playing, miss-you-until-my-heart-aches relationship, she needed to let go. Just let go and trust that he wouldn’t change, that he would still love her, that he would be there for her no matter what.
Words she’d said days ago came back to her. You jump, I jump, Jack.
She swallowed as her heart rate climbed to a pace a runner would find hard to match. Her fingers trembled on the wheel. Spotting a place to pull in on the side of the road, she steered the car toward it. She parked and took out her cell phone. She stared at the screen for a moment, willing herself to do it.
An image of Jax staring at her with dark passion just after he’d told her about his mom flickered through her mind.
Her heart settled. She was ready.
She dialed his number and put the phone to her ear, breathing out in a slow, directed trickle. His voice mail clicked on. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel as she listened to his whiskey-smooth voice and waited for the beep.
“Hi. It’s me. Charlie. Course you probably know that from caller ID.” She made a sound somewhere between a donkey’s bray and a laugh and then shut her eyes. Breathe, Donahue. “I’m just calling because . . . well, I . . .”
This was harder than she’d thought. So she told him the less-scary thing first.
“I’ve just been to see a woman in Massachusetts about a wish. Now, I know you said you didn’t want me looking through the files, but I found her name before I spoke to you, so technically you can’t get mad.” Yeah. Right. “A page was missing from the records, and I looked it up on Google. Long story short, I found her and drove to see her. She was in the same boat as me—won, didn’t want the wish, but she had a Genie who was threatening her. Jared—you know, the Genie who was West Coast’s spokesman before that woman, Rae? He threatened her kid, but it got sorted—by Director Clare, actually. Small world, huh?”
And she was rambling.
She took in a breath, putting a hand to her head and rubbing in circles at the ache that was beginning to form.
Let go, Charlie.
“Okay.” She licked her dry lips and stared at a crack in the leather on the steering wheel. “That’s not why I called. I mean, I could’ve told you that when you called tonight. If you called tonight. If you’re not still mad at me. I’m sorry about that, by the way. Genies make—made—me a little crazy.
“So do you.” She bit her lip. “I’ve never been this mixed up before. This woman, Natalie, she was talking about her husband and their divorce, and how you had to trust people in order to make a relationship work. And if you don’t it all just falls apart.” Her hand gripped the phone tighter. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Jax. I . . . I love you, and I want to be with you. So if your offer still stands . . .” She pushed herself off the ledge. “I’d love to move in with you.”
A weight tumbled off her heart, and she suddenly felt as free and as high as a cloud. Even her toes tingled as she managed a laugh. “God, we’re as crazy as each other to even consider this, but I trust you. You’ll come back to me.” She fiddled with the leather steering wheel and smiled. “So . . . call me. I’ll be on the road for the next four hours, but I’ll be at the apartment tonight. Naked.” She ended the call, pressing the phone to her mouth. She let out a breath.
It was good, she felt . . . good. Right.
Free.
Charlie tucked away her phone and started the engine. She steered the car back on the curving roads.
She could only imagine his face when he got the message. He would frown, then his mouth would fall open, his eyes would blaze that gorgeous blue-gold she adored, and he’d call her and describe exactly what he’d do to her if he were ther
e. A fiery heat climbed her cheeks, and she laughed aloud, feeling as carefree as a young girl in love.
Maybe that’s why she took her attention from the road for a split second.
Her car took a corner too fast, its end swinging around and upsetting the balance. The steering wheel spun, brakes screeching as she tried to slow the car. The recent sleet had created a thin layer of ice on the road, and she wrestled with the wheel, trying to force the car to stop spinning.
Her heart climbed into her throat as she fought the car for control. It was as though it were possessed as it skidded over to the forest that lined the road.
Sweat trickled down her neck as she heaved on the steering wheel, her foot off the gas, but the sleet and the weight of the car were against her.
She hit a dip in the road.
Her car lunged into the air, flipped and rolled. Sky met tarmac met sky met grass as it hurtled around and around until finally it crashed into something solid. Metal groaned and crunched and a fiery pain burst through her stomach before something knocked her on the head. Black swallowed her consciousness, her last thought of Jax.
22.
“So, Jax, how are you liking England?” Carol, Jax’s interviewer, crossed her slim legs, looking down at her notepad. Her pen was poised as she glanced back at him.
“The weather’s the same as home.” Jax grinned. “The only difference is that people here speak with a funny accent.”
She laughed. “No troubles settling into the new job, then?”
“Absolutely not. I’m excited about the opportunity to help a colleague adapt to her new promotion. I’ve been lucky enough to hold the position of the East Coast of America’s face for ten years, and I’ve enjoyed passing on the wisdom.”
“Can you give us an example of these pearls?”
Jax slung an arm over the back of the couch and leaned on it. Rain pattered on the window outside the apartment in London WFY had rented for him, a strong gust of wind making the panes rattle. He pretended to think before letting his dimple flash. “Never say no to a pretty interviewer.”
Scarlet bloomed in her cheeks, and she twiddled with her hair. “Good advice,” she said, a catch to her voice as she flicked through her notebook. “Ah, what are your plans—how long are you going to be here?”
Jax shrugged easily. “For as long as it takes. I’ve appointed an able candidate back home to deal with my duties, so I’m here as long as England wants me.”
“Oh, we want you.” Carol’s eyes widened and she looked past him, her pen tap, tap, tapping rapidly against paper. Her legs uncrossed and then crossed again, her skirt sliding up her thighs. He couldn’t tell if it was deliberate, but the move was wasted on him.
“Ah, some are saying that WFY sent you here to get you away from your girlfriend . . .” She checked her notes. “Charlotte Donahue?”
Jax kept the smile pasted to his face, anger sparking at the memory of his argument with the Director and his Handler. It seethed below the surface as he forced a smile. Where Carol couldn’t see, his hand balled into a fist. “That’s ridiculous,” he replied. “Although the relationship between Charlie and WFY hasn’t been the smoothest, I can vouch for the fact that there are no hard feelings between them.” The thought of the files drifted through his mind before he banished it.
“And she really is your girlfriend? It isn’t a publicity stunt?” Disappointment marked her gray eyes.
Jax rumpled his hair and smiled. “Charlie is a one-in-a-million woman. I’m lucky she even looked my way.”
“I’m certain she thinks the opposite.” Carol’s accent cut the words off. She swallowed. “I mean you are Jax Michaels.”
Something in Jax’s chest squeezed, and he lifted a shoulder. “Maybe, but to her, I’ll always be just Jax.”
Carol’s face crumpled in that strange expression women got when they saw a romantic movie or a puppy. “That’s so sweet.” She made a notation on her pad, and then said, “Can you see it going long-term?”
“Absolutely.”
“Care to expand?” She raised her eyebrows.
He considered. “I think I’ll play my cards close to the vest on this one.”
“Oh, Jax, you can tell me . . . and two million readers.” Her lips curved as she held her pen above the paper. “Could you see yourself marrying her one day?”
It hit him out of left field, a slug to the gut as he stared at her. Marriage? When he would live indeterminately and Charlie would . . . not?
“I, ah . . .”
He spied Josh out of the corner of his eye coming in the front door. Soaked to the skin, his assistant didn’t even peel out of his anorak as he hurried toward him. His eyebrows were drawn together, furrow after furrow marking his brow as he beckoned to Jax. His leg caught the rug as he strode forward and he tripped, managing to catch himself on the table. He didn’t even curse, just continued to look at Jax with dark worry in his eyes.
A sick feeling churned in Jax’s gut. He looked back at Carol and smiled with intimate easiness. “Could you excuse me for a sec?”
At her breathy “Sure,” he pushed from the couch and walked over to his assistant. Josh hummed with energy, his foot tapping and his hands scrunched in his pockets.
“Josh.” Jax swept his eyes over him.
“Jax . . .” Josh pushed his glasses up his nose. His mouth was pinched tight. “It’s Charlie.”
Thirty seconds later, the windows of the apartment burst outward in a chorus of broken glass.
* * *
The plane ride was this side of hell. Eight hours in a confined space without being able to flash back to Charlie’s side. Jax had nothing better to do but to sit in his chair, drink whiskey, and go over every detail of the last four weeks with Charlie.
He remembered their first meeting, being blown away by her rejection and getting worked up like an arrogant tool, bragging to Luka about bringing her to her knees. The determination to win her over, seducing her until the gang member had held a gun to her head. Watching her smile at him over a plate of croissants. The way her eyes darkened when he kissed her. Being blown away by her dress for the charity ball. Making love to her for the first time. Stealing a cupcake freshly baked from the oven. Kissing the birthmark on the back of her knee that was shaped like a cloud. Hearing her yell that she loved him. Saying good-bye. Their last conversation when he’d been a jackass.
And then there was the message he’d found on his voice mail. She’d rambled about finding some woman who’d been hurt by a Genie, and then she’d paused. The line had thrummed with nerves and then she’d finally, finally let go and trusted in him. She’d wanted to make plans for their future. Hearing her laugh and tease him had been like taking a bullet to the heart.
As soon as the plane’s wheels touched the runway, he flashed out of his seat and into the reception of Lenox Hill hospital.
His fingers curled into the desk as he leaned in. “Charlotte Donahue?” His voice was a rasp, his heart thrumming like a guitar string.
He waited for them to tell him it was too late. Josh hadn’t known much; only that Luka had rescued Charlie from a car crash and had flashed her straight to Lenox Hill. Jax had immediately raced for the WFY jet, leaving Josh to handle his schedule.
The red-haired nurse with Doreen on her name badge blinked as she saw him, her mouth rounding. “You’re . . .”
Jax fought the urge to grab her by her shoulders and haul her up. “Charlotte Donahue?” he repeated.
“Jax.”
At Luka’s voice, Jax spun. He spotted the Handler, more rumpled than usual, a dark shadow of stubble across his jaw. A worn leather jacket was slung over a white tee and jeans. He gestured for Jax to follow him.
“Luc, what’s going on?” Jax heard the crack in his voice as he dogged Luka’s footsteps, ignoring the chatter on the wards they passed, the moans of the sick and the screams of the grieving. It sent frost down his spine.
“I don’t know yet.” The Handler was uncharacteristically tac
iturn as he led Jax into the critical care unit. His eyes, bloodshot, slid to Jax. “She took a personal day from her store. I figured she was shopping or something, so headed to the office. Some paperwork. I heard the news over the radio. By the time I found her in Massachusetts and flashed her here, she . . . It wasn’t good.”
Jax’s stomach wrung itself, twisting until it felt like thorns were embedded in his flesh. “How is she?”
Luka pressed his lips together as he ran a hand through his hair. He exhaled and nodded to a Genie Jax vaguely recognized standing guard outside a room. “The doctor is in there with her. I’ve got to get to HQ.”
Jax brushed past the Genie without another word and strode into the room. A male doctor stood in conference with a nurse, but looked up at Jax’s brusque entrance. He had that Ivy-league sheen to him, brown hair coiffed just so, skin tanned from wintering at some ski resort. His teeth gleamed in a professional smile as he extended a hand toward Jax.
“Jax Michaels. It’s a pleasure. I’m Dr. Silstein.”
“How is she?” Jax demanded. His eyes swept toward the bed. Against his ribs, his heart gave an exaggerated thump. Charlie lay as still as a mannequin, tubes sticking out of her and an oxygen mask over her mouth. The ghostly contraption made a suction noise in and out as he watched. She looked so pale, as though she were already dead. A fist grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed.
The doctor seemed surprised by his refusal of a handshake, but thankfully turned serious before Jax beat him with his own custom-made shoes. “She’s a lucky woman to have survived at all. If your friend hadn’t got her to us so quickly, she might not have.”
“Just give me the list of what’s wrong with her.” Jax swallowed against a lump in his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her, as though if he glanced away, her chest would simply stop rising and falling.
“Very well. Multiple contusions and fractures. She broke two ribs, one almost piercing her heart. Internal bleeding, which we have stopped successfully. Her leg was crushed by the steering column. The most serious issue was the hard knock to the head she took. Her brain was swelling against her skull when she came in, but we successfully managed to relieve the pressure.”
Her Wish--A Playboy Genie Romance Page 27
