Jax put his hand on the door handle to stop the madness before it got out of hand, but then he hesitated. He was kind of interested in where this conversation would end up, and it was about time he let their arguments play out.
“It’s fine,” Nate said. “Think what you like. You don’t know a fucking thing about it.”
“Because you never tell us anything.”
“What the fuck is this?” Nate said. “The Brook family version of Oprah? You want my opinion? Fine. Here it is. I think you should back the fuck off and let Jax work shit out in his own time and in his own way. Stop getting in his face because he’s not doing what you would do. He’s not you. He’s not me. He’s not Cole. He’s him. If he chooses to get back with Indie, then that’s his business. And you know what? I hope he does, if only because it would piss you the hell off.”
Silence fell on the other side of the door. Jax held his breath, waiting for either Calum or Nate to throw a punch or for Cole to say something to try to keep the peace. Instead, there was nothing. Not a word. Maybe they’d all stomped off, but he hadn’t heard anyone on the stairs, nor had he heard doors slamming as they all went off into their separate bedrooms.
“You know what?” Nate said, surprising Jax by being the first to break. “I actually liked her. I’m with Cole on this one. If she’s guilty of anything, it’s loving her brother more than he deserved.”
Jax snapped a breath as silence fell once more. And then Calum said, “Where are you going?”
“To get drunk and get laid, in that order,” Nate said.
“Well, in that case,” Calum said, “I’d better come with you to make sure you don’t get in any trouble.”
As footsteps sounded on the stairs, Jax sagged against the door. He probably shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but they hadn’t exactly been quiet, and the conversation had been revealing, to say the least.
Nate liked Indie.
Cole thought she was being judged too harshly.
And Calum hated her guts.
The question Jax had to answer was, what did he think?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Indie glanced upward as rolling black clouds moved across the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the rain came. The northerly wind whipped up, and the cold bit her face. She blew onto her hands, silently cursing herself for forgetting her gloves, but remembering such mundane details hadn’t exactly been a priority that morning.
She peered into the hole, the final resting place for a man who had lived the whole of his adult life blinded by a pointless desire for revenge. She was glad Phil had passed away in his sleep, having never regained consciousness. There was no reason for him to wake up, and maybe in death, he’d find the peace that had so eluded him in life.
The pallbearers came toward her. They’d been provided by the church because, apart from her, Phil had no one. No friends, no one to mourn him, no one to care. No one.
Did she care? After everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure. Time was a healer, or so they said, but she didn’t know if she believed that. The past four weeks without being able to see Jax had been a kind of torture, with no talking to him or having her belly do that funny weird flip every time his eyes silently invited her to bed. Every day that passed tore another piece from her heart. She wasn’t sure how much was left.
She barely listened as the priest committed Phil’s body to the ground, but as the dirt was shoveled onto the coffin with a hollow thud, she almost stopped breathing. Death was so final. At the end, the only thing that mattered was how much you loved and were loved. It was a shame Phil had never learned that lesson. But there was still time for her. Time to make it all right. Time to beg for forgiveness. It might never come, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t try.
At the end of the service, Indie left the cemetery. There was no time to waste. She would throw herself at Jax’s mercy, make him understand how much she loved him, how her life was meaningless without him, and how she’d spend her entire life making it up to him—if he’d let her.
But before then, there was one thing she needed to do. And she knew just the man to help her.
* * *
Indie stood outside Jax’s hotel, clutching the rare and precious gift to her chest. She’d known her boss, Malcolm, would have the right contacts, and he’d been only too happy to help.
She shivered in the cold but still couldn’t make her feet move. She read the backlit sign: “The Miller-Brook.” It looked even better than it had in the pictures he’d shown her weeks earlier.
With her heart thudding against her ribcage, she rang the bell that would sound in his living quarters downstairs. She still had the key Jax had given her on Thanksgiving night, but it wasn’t her place to use it. If her mission that day didn’t go well, she’d give it back to him. She didn’t want to look at such a painful reminder of what could have been.
After an age, during which she almost began to hyperventilate, she heard the grinding of the lock, and the door opened. Her breathing quickened. He was wearing a pair of ripped wide-legged jeans that fit over his cast, and a fitted white T-shirt. His arm was lifted up high, barring her from entering, and a sliver of toned abs was visible where his shirt had ridden up. The splints had been removed from his fingers. Stubble covered his formerly clean-shaven chin, but it suited him, and the bruises had faded. He looked good. Better than good. Stunning in fact.
“Hi.” Heat rushed to her face.
Jax said nothing, merely staring at her with barely contained disdain.
“I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see right now.”
“Why would you think that?” he said, sarcasm leaking into his tone. She barely recognized his voice, which was harsh and cruel instead of soft and loving. Still, she deserved the worst he could throw at her, and more.
She bowed her head. “Can we talk?”
“No. Go home, India. Go back to your precious brother where you belong.”
She winced at how he’d used her full name. So formal. So distant. “He didn’t make it.”
Jax paused. “Oh. I’m sorry,” he finally said, although he didn’t sound remorseful.
She shrugged. “It’s probably for the best.”
Silence. She glimpsed at him through her eyelashes. He was glowering at her, his face stony, his eyes cold.
“Please can I come in? Five minutes.” She held out the gift. “I brought you something.”
“I don’t want it.”
She peered over his shoulder and shifted her weight onto her other foot. “Are you alone?”
Jax barked out a laugh. “What’s it to you?”
She grazed her teeth over her trembling bottom lip. “Please, Jax. I hate seeing you like this.”
He bent forward until his face was inches from hers. “Like what?” He laughed, the sound so bitter it made her flinch. “You tore my heart out, Indie. You know that?”
Tears burned her eyes, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop them spilling down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“But it did.”
Indie stayed rooted to the spot, hoping, praying he’d relent. But when he looked at her like she was a stranger, she thrust the gift at him.
“Merry Christmas, Jax,” she said before turning around and stumbling down the steps. At the bottom, she broke into a run. Deep inside, she held a shred of hope he’d call after her.
He didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jax watched as Indie disappeared down the street. He hadn’t thought the pain in his heart could get any worse. It turned out he was wrong. He’d spent the last four weeks hoping and praying she’d stop by. Yet when she had, his anger and hurt had made it impossible for him to utter the truth in his heart. He missed her. Loved her. But the real issue was that he didn’t know whether he could forgive her.
With a frustrated sigh, he kicked the door shut. Pain shot up his leg, a stark reminder that his bones weren’t fully healed. He went d
ownstairs, the silence ringing in his ears. Nate was back in LA for a casting, although he’d promised to try to get a flight back in time for Christmas dinner the next day. Cole and Calum had given up trying to persuade Jax to go out for a drink and left him home alone to mope.
Christmas Eve. A time for family, for celebration, and there he was, alone. He could easily have invited Indie inside and heard what she had to say, even if it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d have been able to look at her at least, take in her scent, and revel in the way she tossed her head when her hair got in her eyes.
He put her gift on the table and went to grab a beer. With a week until opening night, the hotel was pretty much finished, but instead of enjoying a sense of real accomplishment, he couldn’t muster an ounce of enthusiasm.
He flopped onto the sofa and rested his leg on the coffee table. He surfed through the TV channels before coming to the conclusion there wasn’t a fucking thing on worth watching. Instead, he put on some music and closed his eyes, hoping the melodies would provide comfort. It had taken him thirty years to find the One, yet she’d turned out to be a chameleon. The Indie he’d fallen in love with was a fabricated woman. She’d shown him only what she had wanted him to see.
Yet he couldn’t help being curious about their supposed connection. How had his father known hers? What had been the basis for their association? And had Dad really set out to ruin another human being, leaving the man penniless with two young children to support? With all the key players dead, he’d probably never find out what happened, but that didn’t curb his desire to know the truth.
His gaze drifted to the carefully wrapped present sitting on the dining table. She’d even tied a cheerful bow around the middle. He got to his feet and hobbled across the room. He tugged on the bow and laid the satin ribbon to one side. Sliding his finger beneath the wrapping paper, he opened the gift. Inside was a picture frame, but only when he turned it over did its significance became clear. And it hit him so hard that it felt like a punch to the gut.
How had she managed this? It was almost unbelievable.
“What’s that?”
Startled, Jax jumped. “For fuck’s sake, Cole. Give me some warning before sneaking up on me.”
“Sneak up?” He pointed at his heavy black boots. “With these feet?”
Jax chuckled. “Fair point. What are you doing back so early?”
“Everywhere’s packed full of goddamn tourists, and I got fed up. Zane joined us, so I left him with Calum and gladly escaped.”
“Want a beer?”
Cole nodded. “I’ll get it.” He strolled over to the kitchen. After grabbing a beer from the fridge, he pointed his chin at the picture still lying on the wrapping paper. “What’s this?”
“A signed photograph of Bob Fraser.”
Cole raised an eyebrow. “From who?”
Jax grimaced. “Indie.”
Cole whistled through his teeth. “She finally showed up, huh?”
“Yeah. About a half hour ago.”
“You guys talk?”
Jax shook his head. “I sent her packing.” He sank into the nearest chair and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I gave her a pretty hard time.”
Cole took a swig of beer and glanced down at the picture. “Holy shit. This is personalized to you.”
“I know.”
“How the fuck did she manage that? Bob Fraser hasn’t been seen in public for years.”
Jax shrugged one shoulder. “No idea. I only opened it after she’d gone.”
Cole gave him a look—the one he’d perfected over the years that said he was about to embark on a lecture. Jax raised his hand. “Don’t.”
“Do you still love her?”
“I said don’t, Cole.”
Cole flopped onto the sofa next to him. “You’ve always been a stubborn bastard.”
Jax forced a smile. He swung his bottle of beer by the neck, clinked it against Cole’s, and got to his feet. “I’m going to turn in.”
Cole’s eyes widened. He glanced at his watch. “Jesus, so early? You’re rocking it, man.”
Jax’s answering smile this time was at least genuine. “See you in the morning. You’d better have gotten me a good present.”
“After that one”—he pointed his chin at the picture India had brought—“we’re all doomed.”
Jax ignored him. He picked up Indie’s gift as he passed the table. Tucking it under his arm, he entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him with a click.
He sat on the bed and laid the picture in his lap. She’d somehow managed to get a personalized signed photograph from one of the most reclusive men who’d ever played the game. How she’d achieved such an impossibility was mystifying enough. The fact she had could only mean one thing: she did love him. It was such a personal gift, one that had taken thought. She hadn’t simply gone to Macy’s and bought him a tie or a cheap watch.
He sank back into the pillows and closed his eyes, hugging the picture to his chest. It didn’t matter whether she loved him or whether he loved her. She’d lied throughout their whole relationship.
He gripped his hair and pulled hard in frustration. Why couldn’t he get past that? Did it matter how things had begun? Her brother had clearly been psychotic, and she’d felt indebted to him. It must have been so difficult for her to live a lie all those weeks and months.
His head swam with half-formed regrets, his mood dark and unpredictable. His leg was driving him crazy. He was sick of the plaster cast, of the constant itching. He was sick of the way his brain whirred with thoughts he didn’t want to have. But most of all, he was sick of himself.
He set the picture on his nightstand—facedown because he couldn’t bear to look at it—and turned on his side, praying for sleep he knew wouldn’t come.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jax hobbled around the main area of the hotel, scanning the room to make sure all the guests had a drink. So far, opening night had gone pretty well, and he’d finally been able to switch his cast for a boot, although he’d have to lug the damned thing around for at least another three weeks, according to his surgeon.
He caught the eye of one of his investors, who raised a glass in toast and nodded. Good. If the investors thought it was going well, then that was one less thing for Jax to worry about. As he’d been benched due to his broken leg, he’d spent some time rerunning the numbers over the last week. If the current bookings continued at the same rate, he’d be able to pay back the investment within five years. If he managed to grow even 5 percent each year, he’d reduce that by a third.
He caught Calum’s eye. He couldn’t be prouder of his brothers. They’d really stepped up to the plate. If it hadn’t been for them, he would never have managed to open on time. The damaged reputation alone would have probably sunk the venture before it had gotten off the ground.
Cole appeared at his right shoulder. “It looks terrific, Jax.”
“Yeah.” Jax gave him a crooked smile. “I’m pretty relieved. It’s been a tough few weeks.”
Cole gave him a look. “Thought any more about Indie?”
Jax repressed a wince as a sharp pain hit him in the chest. “Every day.”
Cole sighed. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
Jax grimaced. “Do I have a choice?”
Cole grinned. “No.”
“Go on, then. Let’s hear it. At least then I might get some peace.”
Cole’s expression turned serious. “Don’t let the love of your life walk away because of something so insignificant.”
Jax choked out a laugh. “Insignificant? Our entire relationship was built on a lie. I don’t call that insignificant.”
Cole shook his head sadly. “That girl loves you. Whatever her intentions were in the beginning, by the end, she wasn’t the same person. She told her brother she’d changed her mind, and then she figured out what he was planning and came here to save you. She went in the ambulance with you, not him. She left him lyi
ng in intensive care so she could sit by your bedside, even though his injuries were far more critical than yours. She found the courage to tell you everything and throw herself at your mercy, and you tossed it back in her face. Yet still, she came back for more punishment. Remember, pigheadedness might make you feel morally superior, but it won’t keep you warm at night.”
Jax stared at his brother. Cole wasn’t known for long speeches, and that might have been the longest he’d made in months. He had to feel strongly to speak with such passion and feeling. And Jax hadn’t known about the ambulance situation or that Indie had left Phil alone in the ICU to be with him. His heart squeezed so painfully that he had to take a sharp breath.
“You’re pretty smart, you know that?” he said with a glimmer of a smile.
Cole shrugged. “Just speaking from experience.”
Jax narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” He’d always wondered about Cole’s lack of female company. He rarely dated, yet he was as red-blooded as the rest of the Brook clan.
“You need to take a good, hard look at what you’re doing, because if you let her go, you might realize she was your only chance at happiness. And by then, it’ll be too late.” Sadness clouded Cole’s features, but the firm line of his lips and the set of his jaw told Jax that pressing for more information was a waste of time.
Cole clapped him on the back and wandered off to talk to some of the guests. As Jax watched him walk away, exhaustion—mental as well as physical—swamped him. He felt more like sixty than thirty. But Cole’s pep talk had certainly given him food for thought. Did he have the strength to work things through with Indie? Could he learn to forget—in time—her brutal betrayal?
Yes, screamed his subconscious, choosing that moment to wake up and knock some sense into him. He’d never love another woman the way he loved Indie. His heart belonged to her and her alone. He had to sit down and at least talk to her. It was the only way he’d be able to figure out if they had a chance at salvaging their relationship.
The Blame Game_A Brook Brothers Novel Page 19
