Chapter Sixteen

JONAH stumbled into his room, flipped on the light, then sat on the edge of the bed. Why couldn’t he stop shaking? He’d run out of Adam’s room chased by what? Ghosts? He took deep breaths and forced the panic back. He didn’t want to remember. He couldn’t remember. Remembering was pain.

The buzzing in Jonah’s brain got louder, and the room spun. He was so thirsty. He needed to get some water. He’d caught a cold. Maybe the flu. He got to his feet and headed for the bathroom, but halfway there everything went black and he fell to his knees on the hard tile floor. The pain seemed to bring him back to reality for a moment, but then the voices got so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.

“Stop, please,” he begged.

But the voices only became clearer. Echoes of memory formed solid. He was back at his father’s house, a year before his father died. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Nothing was wrong. His father was fine. But why was he so pale?

“Is this what you want?” his father asked. “Money?”

“I’m the CEO. My job is to grow the company. It’s my job.”

His father frowned, the lines between his eyes deepening. Not with anger but with sadness. “You had dreams of creating something real. Of creating a new world where people could grow communities.”

“I was a kid. I didn’t know any—”

“You’re twenty-three years old. How do you know what you want?”

“I’m not a child. I have responsibilities. People who count on me. Six thousand employees. Stockholders. They look to me. They expect me to grow the company,” Jackson protested.

“And then what? You fire good men like Walter? Men who helped you get where you are? How is that being responsible?”

“He wasn’t working out. I’ve spoken to him several times about the sales numbers. He’s out of touch. In this business, you have to move quickly. Keep on top of things.” Why didn’t his father understand that firing Walter hadn’t been a personal decision? It had been what was best for the company.

“His wife died of cancer two months ago. They’d been married nearly thirty years. He needs time to grieve. When your mother died, I didn’t think I could go on.” His father’s eyes filled with tears.

“It’s not the same. I’m not his son, I’m his boss. I’m the one they’re counting on to keep the business going.”

“You’ve lost your way, Jackie.”

“You don’t understand,” he protested, knowing his father wouldn’t give in but feeling compelled to explain. “Things are different now. Bigger. More complicated.”

“I understand.” His father frowned, but his eyes sparkled with sadness once more. “Running a business isn’t easy. Running it ethically is even more difficult. But you’re more than capable of—”

“I answer to the stockholders and the board. It isn’t a question of ethics.”

“I think we’re done here, son.” His father shook his head. “Maybe someday you’ll understand.”

He didn’t want to leave things this way. He wanted his father to understand that he was doing his best. That he was successful. “Dad, I—”

“I love you. But I can’t abide what you’re doing.” His father smiled sadly and shook his head. “Be well.”

Jackie’s stomach clenched as his father walked out of the room.

“Mr. Roth,” his assistant said. Why the hell was she interrupting his meeting? He needed to approve the new advertising campaign. “Your aunt just called. Your father’s in the hospital. They think he had a heart attack.”

“No.” Jonah pushed the memory away. He’d forgotten. He didn’t want to remember. He couldn’t remember, because if he did….

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Roth,” the nurse said when he arrived at the hospital. He’d gotten there as fast as he could. He’d taken the corporate jet. He was supposed to get there in time. Why the hell hadn’t he gotten there in time?

“Forgive me.” But there was no one to forgive him. He was too late.

Everything they’d said, everything he’d shouted in anger, the years they’d lost because he’d been too stubborn to swallow his fucked-up pride—what difference did any of it make?

He’d sleepwalked through the funeral, but the guilt had gnawed at him until it had become too much to handle.

So he’d run.

“Dad.” Tears streamed over his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, Jackie.” His dad’s voice. But he wasn’t Jackie. “You’ve made me so proud.”

“I love you, Dad.”

He remembered now. He’d flown directly to Tortola after the funeral. He’d taken his small sailboat instead of the crewed yacht. He’d sailed, single-handing her as he headed north to Puerto Rico and Culebra. He spent nearly a month there, but he became restless again, so he left. He ignored the weather forecast. Grief had threatened to swallow him whole, and he realized now that he’d wanted to end things, just to feel numb.

“I love you, Jackson. But I don’t like you very much right now.”

Jonah rubbed his eyes and struggled for control. The tears wouldn’t stop. He heard Adam’s voice saying, “How about Jackson Roth? He’d probably be about your age.”

Jackson Roth had been missing for ten years. Presumed drowned after his sailboat sank in a storm. No body.

No. It isn’t possible. He was Jonah. Just a guy. A good diver. Someone people liked. Easygoing. Kind. Someone without ties. Someone without memories.

He gasped for breath and his vision swam. He got to his feet and grabbed the keys to his scooter. He needed to ride. He needed fresh air or he’d pass out.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to color the horizon pink.

“Running again?”

The voice in his mind sounded familiar, but he ignored it. He tossed the helmet into the bushes—he needed to feel the wind unimpeded—and turned the key. A moment later he was speeding down the road, headed for the freeway.