Chapter Five
The court broke for a recess after that, and I bolted. I didn’t like to think of myself as someone who ran from hard things—and I wasn’t running, exactly. Well, I was literally, but not because I was avoiding something that I needed to face. It was more like I didn’t belong. There wasn’t a place for me in this part of JC’s world where he loved a woman so much that he’d felt like he’d died when she did. I was a third wheel. An extra puzzle piece.
And if he had stopped living with her, then what was he doing when he was with me?
It forced me to confront the fear that always lingered just at the edge of every one of my JC fantasies—what he and I had, what I’d clung to for the past twelve months, maybe it hadn’t ever really been anything at all.
But he’d looked at me. He must have known I was there, and yet he hadn’t looked at me until he’d said the hardest thing for me to hear. He had to be trying to tell me something, and what I heard was, She was my life, Gwen. Not you.
So when the court let out, I hurried down the corridor, avoiding the elevator and the main stairway and the bathrooms, and headed for the farthest exit. I had to get back into my world where I had a firm place and a defined role. A lonely place, maybe, but far less lonely than this one where I didn’t belong at all.
My hand was on the door to the stairs when someone called my name. A familiar voice, but not JC’s. I turned back. “Matt?”
“Gwen. I thought that was you.”
Matt had been my manager at the club I worked at before The Sky Launch. I hadn’t bothered to look around the courtroom, but he must have been there, which made sense. Matt had been friends with JC, despite the age difference.
No. Not friends, I realized as Matt gave me a hug. Matt’s last name was Jackson. Why hadn’t I put it together before now?
“She was your daughter,” I said, when he pulled away. “JC was going to be your son-in-law.” Odd pieces from the past slipped together, taking shape into a bigger picture. The allowances Matt made for JC at the club. The radio news story Matt had been so wrapped up in about an arrest made in an old murder. A conversation I’d overheard where Matt told JC he “just couldn’t be around that week”—that week had been the anniversary of Corinne’s death.
Matt nodded. “I’ve known the boy for quite some time now. He sacrificed a lot to bring my baby’s murderer to justice, and I owe him for that. I’d prefer to think of him like a son.”
A son.
Another piece of JC that I knew nothing about. I remembered when I first met him and I’d sarcastically asked him if the initials stood for Jesus Christ. They might as well have, I thought now. I knew as much about that enigmatic man as I knew about this one.
“I didn’t realize your relationship,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as cold as I felt. Then, because I didn’t want to be discussing JC at all, I changed the subject. “I had no idea that you’d had a daughter. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Matt smiled weakly. “It’s not necessarily something that comes up in day-to-day conversation.”
“I guess not.” God, I didn’t know what to say to him. There weren’t scripts for these situations. “I just…I just wish I would have known.”
He put a hand on my upper arm. “I appreciate that. I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Gwen. I wish there were things I would have known too.”
I felt the color drain from my face. The events of the morning had me so wrapped up that I’d forgotten for a moment the embarrassing circumstances that had caused me to leave my old club. “My father. Yes. I should have told you.”
My father had gone into prison a child abuser and had come out ten years later a heroin addict. It wasn’t long after his release before he’d gone looking for someone to fund his addiction. He’d found me one morning when I was alone at the Eighty-Eighth Floor. He’d hit me and threatened me. Said he’d return the next day and expected me to have money for him.
That had been the last day I’d ever gone into the club. I moved into a new apartment and took the job at The Sky Launch. I’d darkened my hair a shade. I’d done everything I could to hide from my father.
I guess I really was someone who ran from hard things.
And now when I looked back, I was ashamed. I’d been a coward, living in fear. In the year since, no one had heard from my father again. He hadn’t tried to approach Norma. He hadn’t returned to the Eighty-Eighth Floor. He’d skipped out on his parole and disappeared, probably too drugged up to remember he had any children, let alone that he’d wanted something from one of them. If he was even still alive.
“Nah,” Matt said with a shake of his head. “That wasn’t something that I’d expect to come up in day-to-day conversation either. I’m just trying to say that I understand you.”
I nodded. Because, yeah. I understood him too.
“Look.” Matt stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “I wish I could say that Corinne would have liked you, but she probably wouldn’t have. She was a tough woman, that one. Not always easy to get along with. So, I don’t know—she might have liked you, she might have not.”
“Okay.” I know I sounded confused. I was confused. It was an odd thing to say to someone, and I wasn’t sure where he was going with it.
“But even if she didn’t like you, Gwen, she would have liked what you are.”
My brow furrowed. “And what is that, exactly?”
He smiled as if the answer was obvious. “You’re the one who put him back together.”
“I…I’m…I don’t…” I knew the “him” that he meant was JC. But I didn’t think he was right, and I had no idea how he knew about my past with JC in the first place. Had I been important enough for him to mention me to Matt? And when? He hadn’t been allowed any outside communication while he’d been in hiding, so when had he even had a chance to tell Matt anything?
“Sorry. It’s not my place,” he said, obviously recognizing my discomfort. “I should get back in there. Are you coming?”
I couldn’t. There was no way. Whatever he thought I’d done, he was wrong. JC had never felt for me what he’d felt for Matt’s daughter. I’d seen how wrecked he was on that stand. There was no competition. I wasn’t even playing the same game.
“I loved her. And now I love you.”
God, I wanted to believe that. But now, so long after, they just felt like words.
“No pressure,” Matt said when I still hadn’t answered. “I wouldn’t be in there if I didn’t have to be. This trial has forced us to relive a lot of emotion and drama from the past.”
“I’m sure it’s unbelievably difficult.” I felt like such an asshole. My feelings were so insignificant compared to what he must be feeling. What JC must be feeling.
“It is. But, this is closure. We’ve gone on since then, and this gives us a chance to feel like that’s all right.” He squeezed my hand. “Good to see you. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
He meant that he was sure he’d see me because of JC. I read it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. And I got it, I really did. He cared for this man like a son. He’d said it himself. He wanted to see JC’s life go on.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I didn’t know if that was possible.
***
It was a little after noon when I got back to my apartment, and all I wanted to do was fall into my bed and sleep for a thousand years.
I was planning to do just that until I found Chandler waiting by my door. I should have expected him. I’d ignored a message that morning and had turned my phone on in the cab to find two more waiting. I didn’t want to deal with him now, but I owed him some kind of explanation after my behavior the night before.
“Can we talk?” He looked so sweet and boyish despite wearing a suit and tie. He wasn’t taking any classes during the summer and Hudson had brought him in to work at Pierce Industries. Chandler wore business clothes well, but he’d never wear them unless he had to. He must have skipped his lunch to come see me.
And wasn’t that a kind gesture?
“Yeah. We can talk.” I knew I should suggest we go to a coffee shop or up to the roof. Somewhere less private. Not that I thought anything would happen, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea about us.
But I was exhausted. So instead, I invited him in.
He was quiet as I kicked off my heels, seeming to sense my need for this conversation to be on my terms, and for the first time since I’d started fooling around with him, I could truly see the man that he would become. He’d be strong like his older brother and powerful and respectful, but he’d also be gentle and fun. A lot like JC, actually.
The realization made my gut twist in a new direction. Was I an idiot to hold out for the man who’d stopped living when there was an amazing man in the flesh in front of me?
My stomach soured. I didn’t want to be making these decisions. Especially not today.
“I’m going to change real quick,” I mumbled to Chandler.
“Can I get you something?”
I peeked at him over my shoulder and saw him already in the kitchen.
“Lunch? Something to drink?”
Nothing. I wanted nothing but to go back to that day a year ago when JC and I had nothing between us but sweat, instead of murdered girlfriends and eager boy toys.
But I said, “Tea. Hot.” Maybe it would warm the insides of me that had gone cold earlier that morning.
In my en suite, I scrubbed my face and brushed my teeth then exchanged my skirt and blouse for sweats and an oversized T-shirt. I was planning to crash after Chandler left, but I also needed the few minutes to let things settle before trying to talk about any of it. Not that it helped.
When I returned to the living room, I found Chandler sitting on the couch. A steaming mug sat on the coffee table, along with a plate of shortbread cookies I’d forgotten I had.
I avoided the urge to put a large amount of space between us and sunk down next to him, pulling my legs under me. I brought the mug up to my lips and blew across the hot water before taking a sip. “Thanks for this.”
He smiled slightly and crossed an ankle over his knee, saying nothing yet. Watching me.
I let out a slow breath, knowing that I owed him more than explanations. I forced my eyes to his. “Chandler, I owe you an apology.”
His forehead crinkled, and he was his age again, a teenager on the verge of adulthood. “For what, exactly?”
“For a lot of things. For being a bitch last night. For not telling you about JC—about the man that I saw on TV last night.” I swallowed. “For letting us go on for as long as I did when there was never hope for more.”
The last was a concession—one I wasn’t sure was necessary since I’d been very specific about what our relationship was and wasn’t from the beginning. But it felt right to give because I’d been in that kind of arrangement with JC, and I knew how easy it was to fall in deeper than originally planned. It wasn’t fair to expect more from Chandler. The heart wants what the heart wants, after all.
He looked away, taking a swig from a craft beer that must have been left over from the last time my brother had been over for dinner. “If he wasn’t around, would things be different?”
“Well. That’s not jumping to the heart of the matter at all, is it?” I took another sip of my tea, letting it slip down my tongue, my throat, into the cold recesses of my chest before I set the mug back on the coffee table. “It’s a hard question to answer honestly, Chandler. And I want to be honest with you.”
“Then he’s the thing standing between us.”
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, yes. He’s who I want. He’s who I’ve always wanted. But if I didn’t want him, then…possibly I’d want…someone else.” I didn’t want to say anything that made him think he had a shot, but it was only fair he had the truth. “So, yes, he’s the thing that stands between us.”
His knee started to bounce, and his mouth tightened into a straight line.
“But also, no, he’s not. Because I would never have been with you at all if it hadn’t have been for JC. It’s a catch-22. So while I know you want to make him the enemy here, it’s not appropriate. If there’s any enemy, it’s me.” I attempted a smile. “And I hope that’s not where we’re at now.”
He held the tension a few seconds longer before his shoulders visibly eased. “No. That’s not where we are. At all.” His tone betrayed all the emotion he felt, even if he didn’t name it. He was in love with me. Or he thought he was.
And I felt like a big old piece of shit.
Chandler knocked his knee against my thigh. “Get over yourself, Gwenny.” He waited for me to peer up at him before he continued. “I’m really into you, but I’m not going to fall apart.”
I raised a skeptical brow.
“I’m not going to lie—I’ll still try to weasel my way into your pants if you give me the opportunity.”
I groaned but with amusement.
“Will you tell me about…it?” He meant him. He wanted me to tell him about JC. And I knew that when he heard it, he’d feel the way I felt when I listened to JC tell a court full of people about Corinne. Perhaps it was cruel to put him through that, but if he were anything like me, I also knew that he needed to hear it. Because caring about another person like that means wanting to know everything about him or her—whether it’s painful to hear or not.
So I told him.
“JC and I had…” I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to put into words what it was we’d had. “Well, a relationship similar to ours. Except it evolved and became more.” I kept my eyes down, pinned to the remaining tendrils of steam floating from my mug, ignoring the awkward subtext of I evolved with him, not you. “And just as we were moving to the next level, JC had to go into protective custody because he was a key witness in a murder trial.” I ran my teeth across my bottom lip. “In his fiancée’s murder trial.”
I looked up as Chandler let out a small huff of surprise. When he didn’t say anything else, I went on. “Before the show last night, I hadn’t seen him in a year.”
“So you broke up?”
“Not exactly.” I propped my elbow on the arm of the couch and leaned my face on my hand. “Actually, he asked me to marry him.” I’d been irritated when he did. It was unpractical and rushed and I’d been so unprepared for it.
Now as I remembered it, I warmed inside. Tingled from the tips of my toes up through my belly, spreading through my chest. It had been a rash proposal, but with the insight of the circumstances he’d been under, I understood where it had come from. He’d known he had to go into hiding. He hadn’t known how long he’d be gone. And he’d wanted me with him.
Wherever his emotions were based—in love, in lust, in loneliness—at least that had been something I could hold on to with certainty. That he’d felt enough for me to want me with him. That was…a lot.
But was it enough?
“You’re engaged?” Chandler’s question tugged me from my reverie.
“No, no. I turned him down.” It had been the right thing to do, and I didn’t regret it. Mostly. “But we said we’d find each other again after the trial was over.”
“Hmm.”
It was one syllable and yet it was confirmation that he understood the whole of things now. Understood that I’d slept with him while I was “waiting” for someone else. While it would have been easy to defend my actions or explain that JC had not wanted me to stop living, I didn’t bother. Because I’d been selfish in my relationship with Chandler. Part of the consequences of that was enduring his bitterness now.
Again, I felt like an asswad.
“Anyway.” I ran my hand through my hair and tried to shake off the guilt. “Since he couldn’t communicate with me this past year, I had no idea he was finally testifying. It shocked me, I guess. I’d kind of given up on him coming back at all.” I smiled weakly, wanting exoneration and wanting wrath all at once.
I got neither. Chandler’s face was stone—another Pierce trait the boy had inherited. “Then you’re going to start seeing him again.”
Would it really be that easy? To pick up where we’d left off? To be in love and happy?
Until I’d seen him on the news, that was exactly what I thought would happen between us. It was naïve, I realized now. I hadn’t considered that we might not even be compatible long-term, hadn’t stopped to think that I didn’t know him well enough to have a firm grasp on that. Even if our relationship had been real enough to build on, a year had passed. So much could have changed.
And the decision wasn’t entirely mine. I couldn’t know what JC wanted or thought until I talked to him, and I wasn’t sure when that would be. His testimony would be over today, but did that mean that the risk for his safety was over? If so, maybe I’d hear from him later tonight. If not, maybe it would be the end of the trial.
Or maybe not at all.
Because it was possible I already did know what he wanted. The way he’d looked at me earlier. The way he’d looked through me. The declaration he’d made…
“I’m not sure what happens now, to be honest.”
Chandler’s expression eased into a playful smirk. “If you’re not into him anymore, you shouldn’t lead him on, you know. You need to be upfront.” He was teasing me. Acknowledging that was what I’d done with him.
I chuckled. “It’s not that.” Well, it was that too. But it was mostly something else, and even thinking about that something else made a switch flip inside me. So I wasn’t surprised that my voice cracked when I actually said, “I’m just not sure he’s still into me.”
Then the dam broke. My frozen composure was gone, and in its place, I was water. I was pain. I was sadness.
Chandler pulled me into his arms, and I didn’t worry about what it meant or what he might think. I just cried. I grieved. I mourned for everything that I’d lost and everything JC had lost and mostly for what I was afraid was so near to my grasp yet would never be mine again. Never really was.
Chandler stroked my hair while I sobbed on his dress shirt. And he said words that were probably very hard for him to say, yet were exactly what I wanted to hear. “He’s still into you. There’s no way he’s not. You’re beautiful and strong and sexy. And perfect. There isn’t getting over you, Gwenny. He’s still yours.”
I let myself be comforted by him. By a man who didn’t have a former love to compare me with. By a man who hadn’t yet found the “love of his life.” Or maybe he had.
As my chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths, exhaustion overtook me and I fell into sleep, reveling in how good it felt to be held. How warm. And, at the edge of consciousness, I wondered if it was really the worst thing to be loved by a nice boy. Wasn’t it better than competing with a dead girl?