Do I want to read it if it’s in fact from Rachel? That’s what I keep asking myself. Do I want to listen to her excuses or a fake apology?
No, I don’t. Instead, I toss the letter in my desk drawer and force myself to keep moving on with my life.
* * * *
2 MONTHS LATER
“I’m moving,” Kole firmly states.
“You’re what?” I practically shout.
Dad groans, “Jet. Cool down and listen to Kole, please.”
I turn back toward Kole, waiting for her to finish whatever the hell she’s going to say, something I know I don’t want to hear. I’ve been in a mood from hell for months now. First dealing with Kole’s breakup, then Rachel’s shit and now Kole’s comment has pushed me over the edge.
“I want a fresh start and Nick said he’d help me go to art school, which is what I want to do after the baby is born.”
The baby, my fucking niece or nephew, and Kole wants to move away? This is the first time I’ve heard her even mention her pregnancy and she’s talking about leaving in the same sentence.
“Where?” Please say somewhere close.
“Boston,” she sheepishly replies.
“Boston?” I growl through my teeth. Fucking Boston? She wants to move clear across the damn country to go to art school, leaving the only family she has behind.
“Jet, this is Kole’s decision to make, not yours,” Dad barks.
Panic starts to settle in. “I won’t see you every day. I won’t see your baby grow up. I don’t want to be a sideline brother and uncle,” I add.
“Jet...this isn’t about you,” Dad softly adds. “Kole needs this, and we’re going to respect her wishes,” he states in a slightly firmer tone.
I look up at Kole, and I can tell she’s pleading with me to let this go. The day I met her in the coffee shop she looked full of life, but there hasn’t been a day since that I’ve thought that. If moving and starting over will give her that back, then I’m being a selfish jerk by trying to convince her to stay.
“Okay. But you better have a guest room wherever you live and expect me to stay over a lot.”
Kole laughs at my comment. “Deal.”
My sister, a woman I only met a few months ago, is moving across the country. I’m oh for two where women are concerned. Maybe it’s time I hung up the towel for good.
JET
2 WEEKS LATER
“I’M DITCHING SCHOOL. I NEVER really wanted to go in the first place, but the contract they offered is too good to pass up,” Eric defensively says like he’s expecting me to convince him otherwise.
Eric is an amazing baseball player. Since the day I met him that’s all he’s talked about. School has always been something his parents wanted for him, in case baseball doesn’t pan out the way he’s hoping.
“Then do it. You don’t have to answer to anyone except yourself.”
“I know, but my parents are acting like I’m making a mistake. I can always go back to school later, right?” he questions.
I dropped out of my fall semester. I barely managed to finish the last week of my summer course after learning my relationship with Rachel wasn’t real, then finding out that Kole was pregnant, it was just too much.
The spring semester will start soon, and I’m enrolled, but I’m thinking of switching to NYU. I want to live closer to Kole, and I just learned that my dad bought an apartment in New York so he could be close without hovering himself.
Kole was under the impression that I was still dating Rachel, and when she moved last week, I didn’t correct her. Henry and my dad are the only two people who know what happened. Eric knows I’m not seeing her anymore, but he doesn’t know why.
“I think I might move to New York,” I state, not looking him in the face.
“Really?” Eric asks with disbelief in his voice.
“Yeah. I can live with my dad for a while. Figure out what the hell I want to do, and I’ll get to see Kole more often than being out here. She’s only been gone a little over a week and I already fucking miss her.”
“I still can’t believe you have a fucking sister. Man, that’s crazy.” Eric has a huge smile on his face. Long, quiet moments pass before Eric rocks my world.
“I got the impression that things went south between you and Rachel but I never really asked.”
I breathe out a long sigh. “Yeah, they did.”
“I figured as much. Sucks about her brother, though,” he adds with a frown.
“What are you talking about?” I haven’t seen Russ in months. Where he’s concerned, I hate him almost as much as Rachel, because there’s no way he wasn’t helping her con me.
“Rachel’s brother, Russ. Wait, you didn’t hear what happened?” I shake my head no. “He was killed in a car accident.”
I pause, taking in what he just said. My eyes narrow when I ask, “When did this happen?”
Eric shrugs. “A month or so.” I exhale a deep breath while I wonder if their relationship was really as strong as I thought or if that was all an act too.
“The accident happened around the same time I heard charges were being brought up on her slime ball of a father and his oldest kid. Apparently, Rachel’s oldest brother is just as horrendous as Dennis Scott is.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight.
“No charges were brought up on Rachel?” I question as my stomach starts to turn.
Henry stopped me the same day I had learned that Kole was pregnant to tell me they had proof that Dennis Scott was the one breaching their system, and since he was clearly trying to stop the transponder launch, Henry planned to press charges. I agreed with his plan, but I also told him I didn’t want to know any details. If Rachel ends up in hot water, then that’s on her, and I didn’t want to know about it.
“Rachel? Why would someone press charges against her?” I glance at Eric as he watches me with a confused look. “Because she was only pretending to date me when she was really trying to score information for her dad. Dennis Scott was the one trying to steal the launch specs I was working on for Kenner, and he was using his daughter to do it.”
Eric’s nose scrunches before I see pity enter his expression. “Oh, that sucks, man. I had no idea. I made a point to talk to Russ at some party after I learned he was Rachel’s brother. He told me how happy he was that she was finally getting away from their family. He seemed pleased the two of you were dating. I can’t believe that they would go to that extreme to fool you by even pretending with your friends.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past them. Hell, maybe he didn’t know what she was really up to,” I angrily state.
“Or...” Eric turns and waits until I’m looking at him. “Never mind.”
“No, say it.”
Eric sighs in defeat. “I was just wondering why, if she was guilty of something, then...then why wasn’t she arrested, too?”
“Maybe they couldn’t find proof. It doesn’t matter. Either way, she admitted to meeting me solely for her dad’s benefit,” I amend, hoping he understands that this is a closed subject.
Eric harrumphs. “She must be a pro, then. I saw her at that party when you weren’t looking at her. She was into you. Maybe her heart started out in the wrong place, but you’re only fooling yourself if you don’t think that girl was falling for you.”
I cynically laugh as I shake my head. “A foundation built on lies is no relationship I want to be a part of.” Eric gives me a sad smile, and our conversation about Rachel Scott officially ends.
* * * *
1 MONTH LATER...
The holidays are over, and I’m boxing up my room and office. I’m moving in three days to New York. Once I told dad and Kole that I wanted to join them on the east coast, my dad told me he was listing our house to sell. He originally planned to split his time between the east and west coast, but when I wanted to move as well, then he had no real reason to keep our house in Malibu. A huge part of me is sad. This is the house I grew up in, but the bottom line is, I want to be closer
to my family.
I’m clearing out my desk when I spot the letter I received months ago. The letter I believe Rachel sent. I have two choices. I can toss it, or I can take it with me. When it comes down to it, I decide I want to leave Rachel behind in California, but I know I’ll always wonder what she felt was so important that she stopped and wrote me a letter. It’s with that thought I decide to read it. When I open the envelope, my heart starts beating faster when I see that it’s, in fact, a handwritten letter.
Dear Jet,
No amount of time or words will ever express the regret I feel for deceiving you. Our relationship and the way we met started out as a lie but that’s where the lies stopped.
Every word I spoke, every emotion I felt with you was real. I could tell you all the reasons why I deceived you, but in the end, the truth won’t be enough.
As the days pass, my heart continues to ache, but my love for you won’t fade. I’m positive I’ll be old and gray and still in love with you because that’s exactly what happened. I fell in love with the nicest man in the world, and now I’m left with only the memories I made.
Whatever happens in life, please believe that my feelings for you were always real, they still are.
I hope you find the peace you’re seeking and the happiness you deserve.
Love always & forever,
Rachel
I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. I read the letter two more times. It was dated about a month after I last saw her. I fire up my computer and look up Russell Scott, and I quickly find his obituary. He died just a little over two weeks after I last saw Rachel, meaning she wrote me this after he died. If she truly loved him, then she had to be hurting and still...she wrote to me.
I search his name again, and I come up with an article about the accident. The headline reads, ‘One dead and another in critical condition.’ I quickly scan the article. Charlotte Scott was driving under the influence and drove her car off the interstate and into a riverbank. State police feel that Charlotte purposely caused the accident and charges will be filed.
I type in Charlotte Scott, and I find a link to her obituary listed ten days after Russ’s. Charlotte died from injuries she sustained from the same accident that killed Russ.
Fuck. Rachel lost both her brother and mother, all due to her mother’s reckless behavior. I feel a pain in my chest at the idea of knowing how easily Rachel could have been in the car with them. Shit. Even now after everything that’s happened, I’m upset at the idea that something could’ve happened to her. I shut down my computer and go back to packing, but thoughts of Rachel and her family bounce around in my mind the rest of the afternoon.
Somehow, hours later I’m standing outside of her apartment after knocking on her door. I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming and saying goodbye and at the very least tell her in person that I’m sorry about her family.
I knock again, and I’m about to give up when a man I’ve never seen before opens the door. “Can I help you?” he asks. My stomach flips. She’s moved on even though her letter said she couldn’t.
“Hello? Dude?” the man says, trying to get me to snap out of the haze I’m in.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come. Don’t tell Rachel I was here,” I add as I turn around, ready to walk away.
“Who’s Rachel?” I step back in front of the guy while my eyes glance over his shoulder and notice the furniture in her apartment is different.
“The girl who lives here?” I state more as a question than an answer.
He shakes his head. “Sorry, dude. I moved in last month. There’s no Rachel here.”
“Thanks.” My words come out harsh before I turn and walk away. I didn’t come here to win Rachel back, or at least I don’t think I did. My heart hurts for her loss, and I just wanted to reassure myself that she’s going to be okay, even if that’s more than she deserves.
I manage to get in my car and back to my house without remembering my trip home.
As the hours tick by, thoughts of Rachel continue to haunt me. I want closure; that’s all this is about. I pick up my cell phone and call her number only to hear the outgoing message that her phone number has been disconnected.
I fire up my computer again and this time I put Rachel Scott’s name in the search engine. I only find a few articles naming her the sister and daughter in her families’ obituaries. There’s another article naming her the daughter of Dennis Scott, who’s still pending trial.
I ball my hands into fists, fighting my frustration. I’m not learning anything that I didn’t already know. I’m about to shut down my computer when a thought comes to me.
I go by Ashmore. I have for years, but it’s not my legal last name.
I type in Rachel Ashmore, and several articles pop up, including one dated almost a year ago where Rachel had a picture of hers hung in some art gallery.
Damn. I had no idea she was already that talented with her camera. She never told me, but I guess I never really asked. I click on every link I can find, but I don’t learn anything else. Suddenly Rachel appears more honest than I thought. She really did go by Ashmore long before I came into her life. I can’t help but wonder why.
Right or wrong, I can’t get past this horrible feeling that’s starting to consume me. This feeling that’s telling me I shouldn’t move until I know for a fact that’s she’s okay, that her father hasn’t hurt her. Because now, my heart is telling me that he was probably holding something over her. Something that would have made her go along with his plan. But what was it?
For hours, I mull over whether I should leave without saying goodbye, but in the end, I tamp down my concerns, pack up the rest of my crap, and leave Rachel where she belongs...in my memories.
JET
FOURTEEN YEARS LATER
“COME ON, BOSS. IT’S ONE article, and it will be great for business,” James, my PA, begs.
“I hate doing shit like this,” I repeat, hoping to make my point.
James sighs heavily and gives me a look; one he thinks makes him look tough. “I hired you to keep my life organized, not to schedule fucking interviews,” I inform him of something he already knows.
“This is the cover for NY Business. They want you, the CEO of McKenzie Corporation, as their lead man for next year’s cover. Millions of people would die to be in your place. Plus, it’s good exposure for the company.”
“Why do they want to do this now? It’s only September.” He’s wearing me down, and he knows it.
“All of the articles are done months in advance. Someone from the magazine will come and interview you, and then they’ll want to take a few pictures of you in your office. A couple of hour’s tops and you can put this behind you.” He nods like everything is great. No one would have asked my dad to do this shit. Then again, that’s probably something they want to ask me about.
A little less than two years ago, my dad died of cancer. His death is something I struggle with every day, and I thank God for bringing Kole into my life. I would have been completely lost without her and my nephew, Connor.
“Fine. Set it up,” I respond before I let out a heavy sigh, making my thoughts on the situation clear.
“Great. I’ll take care of everything,” James happily replies as he walks out the door, giving me no time to renege. I don’t mind talking to some damn magazine about business or the direction the company is heading, but I don’t want to talk about my personal life. My sister, nephew, and my dating life—or lack thereof—are off limits.
I hired James a few years ago when I discovered how much easier life can be working with a man rather than a woman. Every female assistant I’ve hired has turned to shit. There always seems to be some underlying sexual tension—including the one who was married—and it usually never stemmed from me. I have to admit, I was attracted to a couple of them. However, when you call them at odd hours of the day, the lines start to blur, and the last thing I want to do is cross the line with a woman who works for me.
I’m a single, thirty-three-year-old CEO running a huge business in New York City. Therefore, I find enough blurred lines everywhere I go, hence James.
In my personal life, I have two circles of women. The ones I take out on my arm when it’s necessary that I appear somewhere with a date. Then I have my other, much smaller circle—the ones I have sex with. In the last fourteen years, my attitude toward sex hasn’t changed. Sex and trust, they go hand in hand. I refuse to put myself in a situation where I can’t trust my partner. I don’t want to worry that she’s secretly taping our encounter, or worse, looking for a payout by getting pregnant.
Right now, both of my circles are a little low on available women. The ones I trust enough to have sex with either slowly form feelings for me, feelings I’ve yet to return, or they find someone else, which ends up being for the best.
The ones I take out as dates are usually planning our wedding by the time the evening is over. Therefore, I’ve gone through a lot of single ladies in the last ten years. One uptight date I asked to an art gala my sister was hosting started a rumor that I was gay which had plenty of women trying to be the one who turned me straight.
I stopped caring a long time ago about what anyone other than my family thinks of me. But, for the record, I’m not gay. I do have sex occasionally, and I’m happy with my life just the way it is. However, I don’t plan to tell that fucking reporter anything more than I need to.
* * * *
“He asked you that?” Kole bursts out laughing. Robert, the man who interviewed me earlier this week, actually had the balls to ask me if I was gay. Apparently, everyone with NY Business has heard the rumors themselves and thought it would be hilarious to pull their own Mr. Grey question. Only Robert is gay himself, and I think he might’ve really wanted to know my answer, which of course was no.
“Yes,” I groan.
“That’s hilarious, Jet. I would have loved to have been there to see the look on your face,” Kole adds while she’s still in a fit of laughter.
Damaged Love Page 11
