Five Reasons To Go (The Risky Hearts Duet Book 2)

by Candace Knoebel

  “All of it,” I blurted.

  He started laughing, shaking his head. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I want to do a lead trust. The payments can trickle out slowly.” I slid papers across his desk. “When I left the firm, I put all that money in a money marketing account. I used some of it to get back on my feet when I started in the rental business, but swore I’d never touch another penny earned from that life. There’s enough in there to get Jess on her feet and then some.”

  There was a pause in his gaze. “You sure?”

  I’d never been more sure of anything. “It’s what I want, Aaron.”

  It was the first step in shedding the last stained pieces of myself. That money was earned in vain, by a man who thought only of himself. A man so emotionally bankrupt that he had to cram the gaps with paper dollars.

  You’re better than that man. Jess’ voice filled my head. Her guiding light pushing me forward. You’re ready for this change.

  He took in a big inhale and shrugged. “Okay. It’s your money.”

  “Hers,” I corrected him, a little too briskly. I lowered my tone. “It’s her money now.”

  I would be a better man. And I wanted nothing in return for it.

  I stared at the stark white walls in my apartment, a beer in hand. I thought about Jess. About the expression on her face when she realized the amount of the quarterly payments she’d be receiving. It would only take a year before the remaining funds would be handed over to her. Funds that would change her life. Give her the freedom to spread her wings and fly.

  The idea brought a lone smile to my face. I thought of the blackbird tattooed on her back. It’s wings not fully expanded, like it waited for the right moment to break free.

  I headed to the window. Peered out to hers down the road. “Here’s your moment,” I said to the hollow space around me.

  Chapter 11

  Jessica

  The last box sat by the front door, packed full of Hank’s baseball keepsakes.

  I stared at it for a moment, a mixture of relief and worry taking both my hands. Worry, because I didn’t know what the next chapter would bring for us. Relief, because I’d never thought this day would come.

  Hank didn’t like the idea of leaving, but after what happened in front of Ciana, she hadn’t spoken a word to him. He’d finally seemed to realize then that it was time for him to leave so we could heal as a family and find a new way of doing things.

  His mother tried calling a few times, but I wouldn’t answer. I stood by my decision, and she would come to accept it one way or another. Besides, now she’d have her perfect son back under her roof. Living with her until he found his own place.

  “That’s everything,” Hank said as he came down the hall, rubbing his nose.

  He’d been stomping around the place ever since the kids left for school, muttering to himself. Cursing under his breath.

  He peered out of a curtain, down to the street below. “This isn’t going to last, Jessica. You and I both know that.”

  I raised my chin. Folded my arms across my chest. “Think what you want, Hank.”

  “And the divorce?”

  “I already told you. One step at a time.”

  Giving a sharp nod, he snorted.

  “I’ll send the kids over this weekend. It’ll take time to adjust, but we’re doing the right thing, Hank.”

  “If you say so.”

  He left after that, without a backward glance.

  The moment I shut the door, I pressed my back against it. The chains had been lifted from my shoulders. The anxiety a mere memory. How many years had I lived in the prison of him?

  Too many.

  I smiled, laughing.

  I was free. Finally.

  After the first month of running the shelter, I realized I was in way over my head. Though I was able to pull the shelter out of debt, it didn’t even begin to account for the funds needed to maintain the place. I tried setting up a fundraiser through my shop, but the idea plummeted, and we earned a whole ten dollars.

  I told myself it didn’t matter how many failed attempts I was hit with. Every failure would make future successes all that much sweeter. I was determined to make it work, one way or another.

  By month two, I began to lose sleep. I had all but depleted the extra money I had left over from the loan. The renovations for the shelter ended up going way over budget, something I hadn’t planned for.

  “I told you,” were the only endearing words Alma offered.

  I couldn’t slide anything past her.

  One day, I was at my desk, typing up a blanket email that would go out asking for donations. I’d already gone through a box of tissues, knowing if I didn’t find a way to come up with money, my shop would be on the line.

  And then what would I do? Ask Hank for help?

  I couldn’t.

  There was a gentle knock on the door. I glanced up through watery eyes at the man standing there in a power suit. He was a tall man. Head nearly inches away from the ceiling. Dark hair slicked back.

  “Can I help you?” I wiped under my eyes. I looked a mess. I’d been holding back tears all morning, muscles tight, feeling like a cold was coming on.

  “Jessica Krause?”

  “Yes?”

  He smiled, the slope warm and inviting. “I’m Aaron McCullen of McCullen and Co. I have some papers for you to sign.”

  “Concerning?” Rocks tumbled in my stomach. What if it was Hank? Was he already trying to come after me?

  “Your lead charity trust.” He took the seat across from me. Crossed his legs. “I was asked by my client to personally bring these to you.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “You have a silent benefactor, ma’am. They want to invest in your shelter.”

  “Oh my gosh.” My hand shot to my mouth. “Are you serious?”

  With a smile, confirmation came when he slid papers across my desk.

  I skimmed over the words, until a number seven digits long stopped me up. The words on the page blurred as my mind went dizzy. That couldn’t… it couldn’t be real. Those numbers… they couldn’t be for the shelter.

  “It’s okay,” Aaron said with a small chuckle. “Believe me… when I was informed how much would be donated, I had the same reaction. But I can assure you, those numbers are very real, and they’re waiting in an account solely for you.”

  It took all of thirty minutes for him to explain that an angel had invested millions into my charity, put inside a trust that would give me enough money throughout the year to see all my plans to fruition. I was at a loss for words. I tried to weed the name of the benefactor from him, so I could thank the person, but his lips wouldn’t budge.

  “What I can do is offer my services to your shelter. I can help you manage your funds until you’re on your feet. Look over any future contracts. I can even help the women with financial guidance if need be.”

  My mouth hung open. This didn’t just happen. People didn’t just appear in your life, like out of the movies, sweeping someone off their feet when they needed it most. “You’d do that?” I asked, feeling a little hesitant. This kind of luck wasn’t for someone like me.

  He gave a swift nod. “It would do my company some good to give back. Of course, it will only be when I have spare time, but no doubt would I be willing.”

  I took his hands in mine, shaking them. “Thank you so much, Mr. McCullen.”

  “Please.” His smile was poached with an odd amount of modesty. “Believe it or not, my mother went through something like what these women have gone through. It’s been years since I’ve thought about it but, being here, it brings back so many memories.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. You deserve this, Jessica.” He ran his hand over his tie. “What you’re doing to help these women will never go unnoticed.”

  There was something in the way he said my name, like he knew me, though we had only just met.

  I held the papers
to my chest. “Thank you.”

  After he left, Alma came in and stood in front of my desk. Pointed to my face. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Who was that man?”

  My words drifted on the back of a new dream. “A lawyer.”

  “A lawyer? Are you in trouble?”

  I shook my head, still trying to grasp the number of zeros in the total he read off to me.

  “Then what is it?”

  “We’re going to be all right…” I moved around the desk. Pulled her into my arms, laughing at her stiff form. “We’re going to be all right, Alma! Did you hear me? We’re going to make it.”

  “I hear you. I hear you.” She removed my arms from around her. “And just how is that?” Her hands planted on her hips, her bagged eyes filled with doubt.

  “Through a silent benefactor.”

  When I told her the number, she listed slightly, hand stretching out to find the arm of the chair beside her. She slid into the seat with a look between shock and euphoria.

  “Is this a joke?”

  I shook my head, my smile as big as the moon.

  Her hand went to her chest. “Dear Jesus.” She looked up. “Thank you, Heavenly Father, for your generous gift. Lord knows without it, we would have surely had to shut our doors.”

  “Hey,” I said, swatting at her. “I would have made it work.”

  She eyed me.

  “Okay, fine. You were right. It is a lot harder than I thought. But look… because of me, we now have what we need to keep this place afloat. Indefinitely.”

  “For a while,” she corrected. “If we can’t get donations, that money will run out.”

  “We’ll get the donations. I just… I have to come up with better ideas is all.”

  She left the room, and I found myself staring at my computer, wishing for nothing more in that moment than to be able to tell Jack. He had always been the one I ran to. My best friend in so many ways. I looked up his Facebook page, just to see what he had been up to. And maybe to see if he’d moved on. There was information about his rentals, but not much else. No girlfriends.

  A relieved sigh whistled past my lips.

  What the hell was I doing? Why had I pushed him away? In the moment, it had felt good to be the one to choose. To make him feel the rejection I felt.

  But it was all a façade.

  I still wanted him. Still felt him in my marrow.

  I clicked on his about me. My mouth parted when I read the address. He lived in our old apartment. This whole time, he’d been but a heartbeat away.

  I stood. Grabbed my purse.

  And then I ran for the door.

  .

  Chapter 12

  Jessica

  I stood outside his door, heart fluttering with anxiety.

  The hallway smelled of cooking grease. The walls stained with time. There were a few doors left open, baby gates blocking the front as the robust beat of drums trickled throughout the hall.

  How many times had I been there? Hundreds? A thousand memories painted within his tiny apartment. The promises we made to each other whispered against our flesh, embedded within our hearts.

  Before the fallout, the apartment had become a second home for me. An escape. I could walk through the door without hesitation, key in hand, anxious for his drawn-out smile and impatient kisses.

  Now, though…

  After three loud knocks, I stood back, waiting. Brushing my hair back from my shoulder. Straightening my shirt.

  It took a few seconds before the door opened.

  He was wearing a pair of blue checkered pajama pants, and nothing else. He was planes of muscles and golden skin. I could barely see his lips through the hair growing around his mouth like sprawling ivy. Taking over everything.

  “Jess?”

  My heart turned inside out at the sound of his voice. The way he spoke my name felt like a long-forgotten song against my soul.

  “Hey.”

  His molten caramel eyes melted me on the spot. How many times had he crippled me with those eyes? Made my heart ignite on fire? God, it hurt seeing him.

  “I thought I’d come by and—” I paused, nose scrunching. “What in the hell… What is that smell?”

  Brushing past him, I wasn’t ready for the wreckage I walked into. Takeout boxes were scattered all over. Glasses set miscellaneously. Some empty. Some partially full, mold growing.

  “You live like this?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  I picked up a bowl that had dried-up cereal stuck to it. “Do I really need to point it out?”

  The click of the front door sounded as I headed to the window. I pulled the curtains open. Clouds of dust billowed around me, tickling my nose.

  He rubbed his hand through his hair “Hey… everyone has flaws. Mine is cleaning.”

  “To put it mildly.”

  I stalked into the kitchen and did the only thing I could do.

  I cleaned.

  “When was the last time you cleaned? Months? Years?”

  I gathered all the random dishes. Carried them to the sink. He moved around me, mimicking my movements. Grabbing what he could.

  “Here.” I placed a sponge in his hands. “I’m not doing this alone. Get to it.”

  He stared at it, eyebrows pinched together.

  A giggle burst from my belly. “It’s not diseased, Jack.”

  “You sure?”

  Slowly, he turned the water on. Added a little soap to the sponge, then began swirling it over dish after dish. An hour passed as I scrubbed the surfaces. As he vacuumed and I swept.

  When it was all said and done, I dusted my hands, wearing an accomplished grin.

  I stared pointedly at him, waiting for my thank you.

  But that wasn’t what he said.

  Instead, I got, “Why are you here?”

  His words hung with disbelief. Almost as if he couldn’t put together why I’d come.

  “Because I want to be, Jack. Is that so hard to believe?” I blew out a breath. “Besides, the kids are with their dad. I left him, by the way. There’s another shocker for you.”

  He seemed confused. “So, you… you don’t want to go home, but you want to be here?”

  With a groan, I grabbed him by his hand and pulled him into his bathroom. Sat him down on the toilet, making sure he stayed put.

  The room smelled of him, like Old Spice and liquor, and I exhaled in relief. Felt like I was setting my bags down after a long trip, returning to my bed.

  “Now it’s your turn.” I searched under his sink. After I found the shaving kit he used to use, I set everything up. “You can’t volunteer looking like that.”

  “Volunteer?”

  I began trimming the length of his beard. “Yes. At my shelter.”

  “But I can’t—”

  “You can’t what?” I pulled back, an eyebrow raised. “Offer your limited amount of spare time?”

  His eyebrows furrowed, a small grimace to his lips.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.”

  He tried to pull away when I snipped the hair covering his face. “I’m a grown man, Jess. Men have beards.”

  I eyed him critically. “Men also have man buns, but that doesn’t mean it looks good on all of them.”

  He groaned, but it was lighter than before. If I peered closely enough, there might have even been a smile hidden under all that gruff.

  I poked at the bushy growth. “Besides… this isn’t a beard.”

  He screwed his face up, mouth scowling. “Last time I checked, the definition of a beard is hair on a man’s face.”

  I scoffed. “Well, it’s hair, all right. An overabundance of it. When was the last time you ran a comb through it?”

  “Comb?”

  “Yes,” I said, laughing. “A comb. You know… the grooming tool with plastic teeth made to keep a person’s personal upkeep tidy?”

  “I know what a comb is.”

  I snorted, smirking. “You might know
what it is, but I bet you’ve not once took one to this mess.” Wayward strands poked out in every direction.

  He shifted under my scrutiny. Reaching up, he dug his fingers into the nest-like growth. The sound of wiry hair rasped in the air between us.

  “Itch?”

  His hand fell to his lap, stooping forward. “Like a fiend.”

  “Well, then… for your sake, let’s hope this is up to the task.” I took out a small pair of scissors, waving them between us.

  When all the hair on his face was short enough, I smoothed shaving cream over his cheeks before beginning the tedious task of running the sharp blade over his forested face. Smiled with every swipe as his skin came into view.

  The entire time, his gaze never left me. Almost as if he were afraid if he looked away, I’d disappear.

  “There.” I handed him a towel before rinsing out the sink.

  He rubbed the towel along the edges of his face, cleaning up the last bits of cream. When I turned back, memories fluttered awake in my stomach. The nights I’d help him shave, taking my time, loving the trust in his eyes and the feel of his skin beneath my fingers.

  I smoothed a hand along his jaw, heat pulsing through my heart. “There you are.” Taking in a small breath, I forced myself back to the sink, cleaning off the scissors. “Now for the hair.”

  He pulled back, a comical amount of fear in his eyes. “I worked hard on this hair.”

  I pursed my lips. “You literally did nothing.” He may have been attached to the growth, but it had to go. “Besides, a man who doesn’t practice a healthy upkeep on long hair doesn’t deserve to have it.” I picked up a frayed strand. “And this, my friend, is wiry and dry.”

  “Still.” He smoothed his hands through it. Tugged with a bit of frustration when his fingers caught on the tangled ends.

  I lifted my eyebrows, smirking.

  He grunted. “Fine… it’s bad. But to be fair, it’s never been this long before. To part ways…”

  I snipped a large chunk before he could say anything more.

  The way his mouth fell open was hilarious. The slight sparkle that sputtered to life behind his eyes warmed my heart.