I’m Keeping You

by Jane Lark

  I’d quit work. I’d heard enough about her ex from Rach to know there was no way I could work for him knowing that, especially when we were going to raise his kid.

  But after I’d walked out of work, he’d come after Rach. He’d turned up at my place, late at night, off his head on something, with a group of guys. That hadn’t been just about Rach. He’d wanted to take her away from me, not just take her. I’d been the guy he’d deemed a worthless piece of shit. He had loads of money. Several businesses. Friends in powerful places. Massive houses. The best of everything. Everything I could never hope for. But I’d kicked his ego that night I’d blackened his eye and probably broken his rib, and he’d gone away. I’d won that night.

  But Mr. Rees was the sort of guy who didn’t like losing.

  Shit.

  So how did I persuade a man like that to let us keep Saint and stop fighting?

  I didn’t know. But I was trying to convince Rach I did. I’d told her everything was going to be okay. That we’d get this fixed. But the problem was—I looked at my watch and remembered how long it used to take me to get to the office, about forty-five minutes—in forty-five minutes she was going to discover that I’d lied.

  Nausea twisted around in my gut and I rubbed my hands on the seat of my pants.

  I’d hated the asshole a year ago, but that feeling then had been a shallow dislike. Now it was a violent distaste. But the cutting thing was, that underneath every feeling I had, I still had this shitty sense he was better than me, because he had so much more than I did.

  “What do you want to wear?” I shouted into the bathroom. I had to do something other than stand here, otherwise I was going to blow like a volcano of nervous energy. I would’ve run while Rach was sleeping but I didn’t want to leave her to wake up alone.

  “My light jeans, my dark-blue long-sleeved tee and my pale-blue sweater!”

  “Okay, I’ll get them out of the suitcase.”

  “You can pick my underwear!”

  The first day we’d been out together, nearly a year ago, the first trip we’d made was shopping for clothes for her. She’d left Mr. Rees with nothing but the clothes she’d had on at the time, which hadn’t included underwear. She’d waved the underwear at me as she’d picked it, with a laugh. I wanted to hear that laugh right now.

  I chose blue underwear, to go with the clothes she’d picked, and then laid all her clothes out on the bed. She came out of the bathroom, naked and smiling at me.

  I hadn’t expected her to be smiling this morning, and it may not be a wide smile, just a lifting at the corner of her lips, but she was definitely smiling.

  She dressed while I sat on the bed watching, with my palms on my thighs, trying to restrain the anxiety that whipped at my back. I didn’t want to let it show. When she turned and slipped her cell into her purse, I stood up. “Are you ready?” I wasn’t, but there was no running from this standoff, it had to happen.

  She turned and gave me another slight smile. “Yeah.”

  What was with her smiling today?

  We put our coats on, ready for the cold walk to the subway, then went out the door. My hand settled at her waist and I kept my arm around her as we travelled down in the elevator, and when we walked out the door of the hotel her arm came around me and her hand slipped into the back pocket of my pants.

  We were tight together—right. Declan and Rachel… they’d been so wrong.

  We had to stand in the subway car. I grasped the bar over my head as she leaned back against an upright one with her hands behind her, her body rocking with the sway of the car. She didn’t look like she was scared at all. But I knew she was scared of Mr. Rees, of what he’d done to her, and what he might do yet. Maybe she was hiding her fear like I was.

  When we got off the subway I held her hand through her woolen glove. Her hand hung on tightly to mine as we made our way out of the station, and then walked to the office where I used to work. For months I’d walked this route, and I’d only been glad to be walking it for about the first two weeks, when I’d still had hopes it would be the dream job I’d wanted. It had never been that. I hadn’t been sorry at all to leave it behind for Rach.

  When we got nearer the office, my nerves ratcheted up ten notches. I couldn’t take her in there. What if it went badly? It was better if I did this alone.

  There was a Starbucks near the office. I stopped in front of it. “Do me a favor, Rach, wait here, please? I don’t want to take you in there.”

  Her hand slipped out of mine and she faced me, clasping the sleeves of my leather jacket instead and trying to shake me. “Why?”

  My hands settled at her hips. “Because the man is unpredictable, nasty, and violent.”

  “I know him better than you do.” Her words turned into a cloud of mist in the cold winter air.

  “You do. But we both know this isn’t going to be fixed by me speaking to him once. Just let me go in there alone and judge the ground.”

  She sighed. She hated being shut out of anything.

  When she looked down I held her head and kissed her forehead, then when she looked up I kissed her cheek and then her lips. “Do as I ask,” I said over her mouth, looking into her eyes, “please…”

  Maybe it was for my benefit, because I was scared how things were going to go down, but I told myself it was for her, because I’d seen the way he treated her the way he twisted her emotionally.

  Her gloved hands shook me, through her grip on my jacket, expressing her frustration. “I don’t want to let you do it alone.”

  “But you will…”

  Her mouth and forehead twisted in a grimace of dislike, but her lips spoke the word I wanted to hear. “Yeah.”

  I breathed out with relief.

  “But I hate the idea—for the record.”

  I gave her a smile, then pressed my forehead against hers for an instant. “It’s noted, sweetheart. But I’d hate taking you in there more than you hate the idea of being outside.”

  She pulled back, annoyed again. “I said I’d wait here.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Don’t be.” Her words snapped at me.

  I leaned forward quickly and pressed another kiss on her lips. She opened her mouth and my quick kiss became a little hot for the middle of a sidewalk, but inappropriate was part of me and Rach.

  When I broke the kiss, she smiled, her lips parting. What was with her smiles? I’d been expecting another sullen face, sulking over having to stay behind. I smiled back anyway and chucked her under the chin. “Give me half an hour, maybe a little bit more.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you in a while.”

  “Okay.”

  I pressed my lips on to hers, this time it was quickly, then let her go, as she let me go. “Bye.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  My heart fucking pounded like crazy when I turned to face the office farther along the street. I breathed out, steeling myself to go in there and face this.

  It was lunchtime, so the building’s reception area was busy. I ignored the elevators and headed for the stairs. I jogged up, my teeth gritting.

  Memories hit me in the face.

  But the memories weren’t from when I’d worked here, they were from when I’d come back here to get Mr. Rees’s DNA, after Rach had walked into the river. I’d been a wreck. My head had been totally fucked up. I’d been scared. I’d never seen her have an extreme episode until that night, and when I’d left her in the hospital in Portland she’d been oblivious to the world, cradling herself and silent. She’d barely known me.

  Those images had been in my head when I’d walked into the office then; they were in my head now.

  The fear I’d carried around with me for weeks after that episode hovered inside me; it was all knotted up, a massive rope coiled and tangled up in my belly and my chest, along with the excruciating pain I’d discovered that came when you loved someone who was hurting and you couldn’t do anything to help them.


  Rachel needed the pressure off her; she needed an end to this—shit. I was the one who’d brought this down on us; if I didn’t want to adopt Saint… But giving up now would let Mr. Rees win, and I didn’t want him to win, I wanted Saint to be mine. I didn’t want to give up, even if that would mean Mr. Rees backing off.

  I pushed open the door that led into the area in front of the office.

  A new emotion swayed around in me; guilt as well as fear and pain.

  “Jason!”

  Shit.

  Mr. Rees was right in front of me. Staring at me. The wolf was out of his den and waiting for the elevator doors to open. His personal assistant, Preppy-Portia, stood beside him with a notebook in her hand. He must have been laying out his orders on how to conquer the world, super-villain-style, and she’d been scribbling it all down until I’d walked in on them.

  My teeth clenched. Just the sight of him turned my stomach.

  “I didn’t expect to see you back in New York…” His tone and his body language said he knew he was winning.

  Shit… I wasn’t prepared for him. I’d gotten caught off guard. My belly screwed up in a tight mess.

  Don’t take any crap from him. I breathed out, then breathed in, about to speak, but before I could he walked past Portia, grabbed the arm of my jacket and pulled me out into the stairwell.

  I guess he didn’t want me speaking in front of her.

  The guy had a weakness.

  As soon as we were through the door, I yanked my arm free. I needed to be in control. “Why are you trying to get custody of Saint?” I stepped forward, to get up in his face. Offence was the best defense. Which was maybe another reason why he’d dragged me out here. But he needed to know I was going to fight him all the way, with whatever it took, no matter that I didn’t have the money he had.

  He leaned back, as offhand and fucking self-confident as ever, just like I smelled bad. Like I hadn’t rattled him at all. “Because I can.”

  My hands fisted. “You don’t want him! Why bother?” It would be easy to hit him out here. It made it harder to hold back. How could he be so fucking calm? He was destroying our lives, destroying the life of a little kid, and he didn’t give a shit.

  “Because maybe I don’t want you to have him more than I don’t want him.”

  He was an asshole. But if he was telling the truth it meant this was my fault!

  I opened my hands, fighting the anger and pain as hard as I wanted to hit him. “Just give this up. This is a kid—a human being. You’re playing with him. It’s not a game.”

  “I’m not playing.” His fixed, serious expression said, and you’d better believe it.

  Rage sliced through me, like a knife cut me in half. It took a lot to make me mad, but he made me growl at him, “Stop it! You don’t fucking want him!” They’d probably heard me shouting in the office, certainly Portia had heard me if she was still standing by the elevators and she loved to gossip, so she’d be there. If no one else had heard it, they’d hear about it from her.

  The sound echoed up and down the stairs.

  “No…” The word was spoken like a question, in a low tone. It was said to push my anger harder.

  I pictured myself grabbing the knot of his tie and twisting it so hard he choked.

  I wanted to kick him in the balls to give him maximum pain, and smash my fists into his face.

  But if I did any of that he’d win. That was what he wanted.

  A deep breath pulled into my lungs as my fists clenched again. I didn’t throw any punches, but I remembered what it had felt like when I’d been in the dark street outside my apartment, late at night, when he’d come to take Rach. Then I’d had justification. But if I did it here he’d have me on an assault charge, and even more evidence to take Saint.

  “What the fuck will you gain by doing this?” My voice echoed, shouting back at me.

  “Pissing you off.” His quiet answer didn’t carry, but it hit me like a cold bucket of water.

  Awesome. I hated him. My arm lifted in anger and desperation to stop him being a bastard. But I couldn’t hit him and I didn’t have any power to stop him. I slapped a useless hand on the stair rail then hung on to it. “And what will you fucking do if you win? It’ll piss you off too. You wouldn’t want Saint with you. Just back off. Leave him with us!”

  Was he really going through this process just for revenge because Rach had walked out and I’d hit him? But if he took Saint, it was for a lifetime. Would he really do that just to piss me off? Where would Saint end up?

  I didn’t get this.

  “No.” The refusal rang with determination. “I’ve lost my family. My wife saw the paternity paperwork. I’ve lost the house on the coast,” his eyebrows lifted, “and she’s after my businesses. Why should you get what you want?”

  Shit. His marriage had broken up. That had me reeling back. His money came from his wife. “I didn’t trash your marriage, if your shit’s exploded, it’s because you did it! You cheated! And now you’re going to take a child you don’t want and dump him on a nanny! That’s crazy!”

  He leaned toward me. “Rachel’s the crazy bitch. Now get out of here or I’ll call security.” As soon as the last word left his mouth he turned his back on me, pulled the door open, and went back into the elevator area, leaving me alone.

  Fuck. It was time to get out.

  My hands shook when I jogged down the stairs. I wanted to puke, and every muscle was tight with emotion. I had my hands tied behind my back, powerless. I couldn’t be powerless; I had to win.

  But at least now I understood why he wanted to fight and maybe I could work out from that how to fight back.

  I shoved the door open and walked into the ground-floor reception area. It swung shut heavily behind me. The temper in me brewed up like bubbling lava. I wasn’t going to be able to hold it in much longer. I shoved hard with both hands to open the door out into the street.

  Anger ricocheted through me. I hadn’t gotten any good news to share with Rach and I hadn’t been in control of the conversation. But I think Rach and me both knew this wouldn’t be solved by me telling him to stop. He was not the sort of person to do anything anyone asked him, for any reason, even if the life and happiness of a kid—his kid—would be ruined… My kid. Those two words breathed through my soul.

  “He’s my kid!” The people I walked past turned and stared as I shouted it out, venting the lava.

  Rach was sitting at a table by the window in Starbucks, so she could see me coming. When she did she leaned up against the pane and made a weird face at me, contorting her nose and mouth while she breathed out to mist up the glass. Ah shit. What a moment for a glimmer of the old Rach to shine through her meds. I smiled as I walked in and against all the odds a humorous sound gathered in my throat as I went over to the table. I leaned down and kissed her cheek, because she was mine too, and the emotion stirring like fire in my chest was all for her and Saint. I was holding on to them both, pulling them through this. “I need a coffee. Do you want another?”

  “Yeah.”

  But while I was pulling them through, I was drowning under the pressure… Like I had them both hanging on around my neck, strangling me as I tried to swim and breathe. What if we didn’t win? What would happen to Saint? And what would happen to her? I’d been shit today. I wasn’t strong enough to win. I didn’t have the power to change this.

  I sighed out when I turned away, shoving those thoughts aside, as hard as I’d shoved the office doors open to get out of there.

  When I walked toward the counter, it was a chance for my manically pumping heart to slow down. I breathed slowly to get control of my heart rate and my temper. She must’ve been able to tell from my attitude that things had gone badly. But I was glad she’d let me walk away and hadn’t pushed to know what had happened. I needed time to get my head back in the right gear, so I could be upbeat with her.

  My hand tapped against my leg as I waited on my order and breathed deeply. I let all the swear words I
wanted to yell fly around in my head. Fuck! Bullshit!

  When I took our drinks over, I put hers down, then sat facing her. My hands wrapped around the cup. I sighed out my breath. Her green eyes looked deep into mine, wanting answers. She hadn’t asked but she wanted to know.

  “His marriage broke up. His claim for Saint is revenge. He thinks his marriage breakup is our fault. His money came from his wife, initially, so guess what, his divorce is hitting him hard in the pocket and that’s our fault too. She found out about the paternity case.”

  Rach nodded—then smiled.

  What the hell was with her smiles? She was not right today.

  My heart pumped harder again, with worry. Ever since the thing with the river I’d been tiptoeing about on broken glass, scared it was going to happen again and not knowing what to do to stop it. Everything weird she did set me on edge. But when she didn’t do weird stuff and she was unsmiling and dopey, I feared she’d be forever like that and the Rachel I’d fallen for was lost—along with her old highs and lows. What I wanted was confusing. Just as confusing as she was.

  “Jason!”

  Shit. I looked over my shoulder to see Justin walking in with Portia. Awesome. We should have gone to another place farther away from the office. Justin had at one time been the only friend I had in New York, and he worked for Mr. Rees too. I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d left New York. I’d cut all my ties. I didn’t want any connections to anyone around Mr. Rees.

  Justin said something to Portia and then, when she joined the queue, he came over, smiling.

  Shit.

  He must think I was weird. He’d seen me when I came to get Mr. Rees’s DNA in the summer. Then I’d gone away again and ignored his texts again.

  His gaze shifted from me to Rach.

  His eyes widened.

  He was the worst frickin’ gossip, and he’d seen Rach before—at Mr. Rees’s apartment, when she’d been shacked up with Mr. Rees, as his mistress. Or probably a better description would be as his sex toy. He’d used her, that was all. For parties and playing.