Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)

by J. L. Berg

  It’s over.

  My knees gave way, and my body hit the floor, trembling everywhere.

  “Liv, sweetheart,” Jackson called out.

  His safe warm arms wrapped around me, and I was lifted into his embrace.

  “I’m going to move you to the living room and call the police.” His hand smoothed over my face, through my hair down my shoulder. “Did he hurt you?” he asked softly.

  “No,” I managed to say.

  He gently laid me down onto the sofa and ever so carefully kissed my forehead before wrapping me in a throw blanket. Keeping one eye on the entryway where Victor was sprawled out on the floor and the other on me, he pulled out his phone and called the police.

  Five minutes later, uniformed men roused Victor back into consciousness and threw him in the back of a cop car. Jackson and I each gave statements before the police officers left, and after what seemed like forever, the house was once again silent.

  Jackson returned to the couch after locking the door. “I don’t want you to stay here tonight,” he said gently.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  I really didn’t want to be alone.

  He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a bag. “I didn’t know quite what you needed, so I guessed. If you need anything else, I can run back over and get it,” he offered.

  “I just need you,” I confessed.

  “That I can do.”

  With the throw still firmly attached to my shoulders, I walked next door with Jackson. He kept his arm wrapped around my waist until we entered the living room, and he helped me ease on to the sofa.

  “Hey, Liv,” Noah said quietly. He’d walked in from the kitchen, and he was standing behind his father.

  “Hi, Noah,” was all I could manage to say.

  “I made dinner for everyone.”

  I glanced up at him, seeing his sweet and shy disposition. That was why the dam broke, and I lost it. “Thank you, Noah,” I said through the tears.

  Two sets of arms circled around me and held me as I cried. It was exactly what I needed—both of them.

  ~Jackson~

  It had taken every ounce of control I had not to kill that man when I saw his hands on Liv. Seeing her now, so frail and weak in my arms made me seriously reconsider my levelheaded decision to see him behind bars instead of ripping him apart.

  For a split second, I’d assumed the worst when I had pulled up to the curb and found that familiar car parked outside her house. Watching her leave in it before, I hadn’t forgotten what it looked like.

  I thought I would never see it again, but arriving home from work that night, I killed the engine to my truck, looked up, and found the bastard’s car right in front of her house.

  My first gut reaction was utter betrayal.

  What an amazing dumbass I was to go down this path again. Hadn’t I learned anything from my experience with Natalie?

  My knuckles went white at the sight of his car sitting there, and my imagination ran wild with the images of what could be going on in that house.

  A hint of rationale decided to make an appearance in my train of thought, and I suddenly wondered why Liv would invite him over at the exact time she knew I would be getting home from work.

  What had I done to deserve such treatment?

  Nothing.

  One thing I’d learned about Liv along the way was, she would never do something so callous.

  So, what piece of the puzzle was I missing?

  I jumped out of my truck and took a step forward toward her house, hating myself for it.

  What if I was wrong, and she really was in there with him, doing the very things I’d imagined?

  Did I need the visual?

  No, but I’d still pressed on.

  Something about the entire situation bothered me, which was why I found myself at her door. Just as I was ready to knock, I heard her voice and stopped.

  “Victor, please,” Liv said, her voice sounding weak and frightened.

  “Please what?” a male voice answered back..

  “Please stop,” she begged, fear and terror seeping through the door.

  Panic took over, as I ran towards the back of her house, knowing she kept a key hidden in a flowerpot for emergencies.

  A week ago, after we’d gone jogging, she’d found that she locked herself out, and I’d watched as she snuck back here to dig the key out. I had told her that it was a terrible place to put a key.

  She’d just rolled her eyes and said, “Maybe I should just give it to you. That way, you’ll have an easier time with the balloons next go-around.”

  I’d just hoped she hadn’t listened to me.

  Making my way into the backyard, I raced up to the patio. My hands dug into the dirt and found the shiny metal key. With shaky fingers, I unlocked the door and silently walked in, trying to give myself the advantage I knew I needed. I couldn’t allow this bastard to hurt her.

  Knocking him out had been the least I could do. Knowing anything further would land me in a jail cell right next to him had prevented me from doing more.

  Seeing Liv, usually so fierce and strong, reduced to a timid, scared mess had made me angry and brought out a protective side I didn’t know I possessed for anyone other than Noah.

  She’d been asleep for about an hour, curled up in my arms, as we lounged on the couch in the living room. Watching her fall apart in Noah’s and my arms had been difficult, but I’d never been more proud of my boy for being so strong. When I’d called him while waiting for the cops to come to Liv’s, I’d only said that Liv was attacked. He hadn’t needed to know anything more.

  He’d obviously been worried, but his chief concern had been what he could do to help. He’d volunteered to make dinner, grab a blanket, and do anything else to make our new guest comfortable. When Liv had started crying, I’d thought he might shy away from the immense emotions, but instead, he’d moved forward and held her. After Liv had calmed down a bit, Noah had gone to his room for the night, leaving just the two of us.

  My little boy was growing up, and for once, the thought didn’t scare me.

  Shifting slightly, I tucked my arms under Liv’s legs and lifted her from the couch. She stirred slightly but stayed asleep as I carried her upstairs to my bedroom. I wanted to make sure Liv felt cared for this evening. Therefore, she got the bed.

  Laying her down on the soft mattress, I pulled the covers around her and bent down to kiss her cheek.

  “Jackson, don’t leave me,” she murmured.

  “Are you sure? I was going to sleep on the sofa.”

  Considering she had just had a traumatic event, I didn’t know how much intimacy she would be able to handle, so I had decided earlier to let her have the room to herself.

  “Please, just hold me.”

  I tugged off my pants, leaving my boxers and T-shirt in place, and I slid under the covers next to her. She was dressed in one of my old shirts and a pair of her own shorts. I pulled her closer to me until her back touched my torso.

  “I should have been braver,” she said softly.

  I lifted my head and gently rolled her toward me. “What do you mean?”

  “When he came at me, I froze. I didn’t do anything. I’d just always thought that if I were ever in a situation like that, I would be braver, stronger.”

  “Listen to me, Liv. You are not weak. What happened today is a testament to that. I heard you. You did everything you could. You tried to talk him down. That was the smartest thing you could have done. Anything else could have gotten you hurt.”

  She rolled over, fitting her body into mine, as I wrapped my arm around her waist.

  “Thank you for being there for me today,” she whispered.

  “I’ll always be there for you,” I vowed before sleep claimed us both.

  ~Liv~

  For the first time since going into business on my own, I called my assistant the next morning, shortly after waking up in Jackson’s arms, and I had her cancel all my patients fo
r the day.

  She didn’t ask questions, but I knew she must have realized it was huge. I pushed End on my phone and set it down on the bedside table. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I gazed out the window toward my house.

  “You okay?”

  I turned back to find Jackson awake, his head propped up on his hand as the other reached out for me. I met his hand halfway and watched as our fingers wove together, realizing I’d never once craved someone as deeply as I did with Jackson. It was as if my body and soul recognized him as someone safe and special, long before any other part of me had.

  “I canceled on my patients,” I answered.

  “You can’t be everything to everyone all the time, Liv. Sometimes, you have to take a moment for yourself.”

  He tugged at my hand until I snuggled down next to him. The tips of our noses touched and I could feel his warm breath on the nape of my neck,

  “I just feel like I’ve failed them,” I admitted.

  His arms wrapped around me, and I felt the heat from his body soak into my pores.

  “They’ll understand,” he urged. “Besides, you’re evading the question. I asked if you were okay. I wasn’t asking about your patients.”

  It was a simple question. Was I okay?

  Shouldn’t it be a simple answer?

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I think back to yesterday, and I feel nothing and everything, all at the same time. It could have been so much worse,” I said, my voice starting to quiver.

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “No, because you came.” I looked up at him, staring into those silvery gray eyes I’d grown so fond of, and I saw a future I’d never known I would ever want. The possibility scared me. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, I turned away, turning toward the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work soon?” I asked, knowing he usually left for work around this time.

  “Actually”—he smiled,—“I was just about to call in sick myself.”

  “Jackson, you can’t! You just started this job!” I nearly screeched.

  Not moving an inch, his grin widened. “Watch me.”

  He leaned forward, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand. I stared in awed silence as he punched a few buttons and pulled the phone up to his ear.

  “You really shouldn’t do—” I was cut off as he held up a finger and proceeded to greet the person on the other end.

  He rose from the bed and motioned to me that he was headed downstairs. His phone conversation continued as he made his way down the stairs, the sound of his voice disappearing as he moved through the house.

  I looked around briefly—for what, I wasn’t sure—and I finally decided to get up. I’d never spent the night at a man’s house without dying to vacate the premises as soon as the sun broke over the horizon.

  Mia was right. I really was kind of like a dude.

  Over the years, I’d convinced myself that it was because I was a solitary person who enjoyed my alone time. I’d hated staying over at a man’s house because it was foreign to me—different bed, strange sheets, and unhealthy food options in the morning. But really, it had nothing to do with any of that.

  The majority of my adult life, I had been living with a genuine fear of intimacy when it came to members of the opposite sex. I thrived on exploring emotions in other areas of my life—both professionally and personally—but when it came to my love life, I would close myself off.

  Until now.

  Jackson’s mattress felt different, and his sheets were definitely new, but none of that mattered anymore because of him. If I went downstairs and all he had to serve me was Pop-Tarts and Frosted Flakes, I’d happily take it.

  Because it was Jackson.

  I wasn’t ready to walk down the aisle or buy a minivan quite yet, but at least I could get out of this bed, walk down the stairs, and know that I was where I was supposed to be.

  For once in my life, I wasn’t closing myself off to the possibility of more.

  ~Jackson~

  After setting the coffee maker to brew, I headed to my desk and flipped open my laptop.

  I might have called in sick, but I still had a few things to accomplish remotely.

  I logged in and waited for everything to boot up, my eyes shifting toward the window where I could see Liv’s house next door.

  I’d felt raw fear only a handful of times in my life.

  When I’d awoken to find Natalie and every shred of her existence gone from my life, the dread of being a single father had hit me hard.

  She’d left nothing but a note—a single sentence.

  I’m not meant for either of you.

  After walking into the tiny room we had converted into a nursery, I’d looked down at my newborn son and wept. I’d barely figured out how to be a father. How could I ever replace a mother?

  But somehow, I had been enough.

  Other times in my life, like when Noah fell or was injured, I’d experience that heart-stopping sensation because life had suddenly changed and things would always be different.

  I’d felt it again last night as I walked up to Liv’s door and heard her fragile voice begging for mercy.

  Anger had welled up in my veins, and I’d surged ahead to take down the intruder who dared to lay a hand on her, but behind the all-consuming rage had been raw fear.

  What if I had been too late? What if she had already been hurt?

  Even after finding her untouched and unharmed, my anxiety hadn’t lessened. The fluttering feeling in my gut had still twisted and turned me into knots.

  But now, everything was over, and she was here, safe and sound, yet I still worried.

  Would she pull away now?

  I realized I had been gazing out the window for probably eons as my mind went on endlessly without reason.

  Focusing back on the task at hand, I turned to my computer and pulled up the Internet browser.

  Right now, I needed to focus—at least for a couple of minutes.

  Taking the day off wasn’t a problem. Normally, I wouldn’t be asked to do much of anything, but a potential high-profile client would be visiting the firm tomorrow, so Mark wanted me prepped and ready for when the Senator walked through the door, which meant I had to do research. I was expected to know as much as possible by tomorrow morning. If I wanted to spend today with Liv, then I needed to start cramming.

  Most of the information I found, I’d already learned from watching the news and reading the paper. Senator Prescott was the son of a local farmer. He was the top in his high school class, and he’d gone on to study political science at the University of Virginia. He’d received his law degree from Princeton, passed the bar, and taken his first position as a junior associate back in his home state of Virginia. He was married with one daughter—

  “What are you doing?”

  I turned around to see Liv frozen behind me with a mix of shock and horror written all over her face.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “Bit of research for work.”

  “You’re researching Senator Prescott?” She folded her arms across her chest.

  I nodded, motioning toward the article on the screen. She stepped forward to take a closer look at the photo towards the bottom. It was an older one from when he’d first run for state senate. It showed him up on stage, much younger-looking, waving to the crowd with his proud wife and child behind him.

  Glancing up at Liv, I was about to explain the firm’s opportunity, but I was halted by the look of pure devastation spread across her features.

  “I loved that dress,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “The way it shimmered under the lights on that stage. It made me feel like a princess. He always said I was, you know? His princess. But after that moment, I wasn’t. Work was. It became his wife, his mistress, and the very reason for his existence.”

  I jerked my head back to the picture on the screen, narrowing my focus on the little girl standing in the backgroun
d. Dark curls framed her tiny face—a face I’d seen before.

  “You’re his daughter,” I said, turning back to Liv.

  She simply nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged. “I never tell anyone.”

  Since I’d met Liv, she’d never mentioned family, and when she had, all she’d ever said was, there was none. Sure, they had the same last name but so did a lot of people. Plus, Liv didn’t exactly look like a senator’s daughter. I’d never even considered her elusive family could in fact be state royalty.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” she replied.

  “Well, why don’t I make us some coffee, and you can tell me about it?”

  “Okay.”

  She sat down at the small kitchen table, the one I’d sat at years before when I was small and came to visit for the summer. Nana would make pancakes and sing songs she’d learned from church while I’d color pictures or play with Legos on that worn, old oak tabletop.

  Liv’s fingers slid across the grooves and dents that age had brought to the table as she gathered her thoughts. I poured us each a cup of coffee and grabbed the cream from the fridge. I sat down beside her and handed her a cup.

  “My father was my world when I was growing up. He was the best kind of dad,” she said, smiling. “But then, he became Senator Prescott, and everything shifted—his focus, priorities and even me. His entire world revolved about his image, the next campaign, and what the voters thought. He was swept up in this whirlwind, and my mother and I were left by the sidelines to watch.”

  “You grew apart,” I guessed.

  She took a sip of her coffee, not bothering to add anything to it. I, on the other hand, poured in a hefty amount of cream and dumped in three spoonfuls of sugar before bringing the cup to my lips.

  “It was more than that. I was always a little different. I never fit in with any of my parents’ friends’ kids—until Mia. Mia was like me, different and special. We got into our fair share of trouble, me especially.” She grinned.

  “But soon after graduation, Mia left, and it was just me. I went off to college, and for the first time, I was on my own. It should have been liberating. I should have felt free, but I had this sudden realization that none of that would actually happen. I had always lived with the understanding that my parents would take care of me, so I wasn’t free or on my own, and I never would be until I learned to take care of myself. For the first time, I wanted to see what the world would be like without a safety net. So, I changed my major from business to sociology, and I told my parents I wanted to change the world.”