Chapter Thirty
heard Jack approach and then listened to his apology. I wanted to stand up and yell at him and make him feel as terrible as I felt. But I knew that he had only meant to help and that yelling at him would only serve to upset me more. Plus, I didn't want to yell at my boss and find I'd lost my job on top of everything else. So, I said nothing.
"Leah, I really am sorry," Jack said as he sat down next to me. He sat close enough that I could feel the heat from his body and, while everything in me wanted to lean in and feel him pressed against me, I also wanted to run away.
"I know you meant well," I said wiping the tears from my cheeks and offering him a weak smile. "I appreciate the gesture."
"It's not just a gesture," he said as he looked at me. "I really do want to help. I don't want you to stress about having to find a place to live on top of everything else. I know it can't be easy."
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to hide the fact that my life was in shambles.
"I mean, Riley told me a little about what's going on at home and I just . . ." he trailed off.
"You just see us as a great way to do your charity work, don't you?" I said bitterly as I felt the resentment and anger rising in my throat. How dare he pity me! "Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Yates. I work hard to do the best I can to support my family, and I'm not a charity case to ease your guilt!"
"Leah . . ." he said holding up a hand to stop me, but I was on a roll. The emotions that had been building reached their peak, and Jack had knocked down the dam that had been holding them back.
"No, you listen to me!" I shouted. "I'm sick and tired of being 'poor Leah,' the girl whose sister ran off and left her with her kid, or the girl whose mother drinks like a fish and burns down the house, or the girl whose brother ran off and became a priest just to avoid having to deal with such a messed up family! I'm sick and tired of it! I want a life that is happy and has some hope of getting better!"
Jack sat next to me, listening calmly as I let loose with a torrent of anger and resentment and, by the time I was done, I was sobbing loudly as all the pain and disappointment flowed out. Jack leaned over and put an arm around me and drew me to him, holding me tightly as I cried.
"It's okay, Leah," he whispered as he rested his chin on top of my head. "Let it all out. It's okay. I understand."
It took me a long time to stop crying, but Jack sat patiently, waiting for the storm to pass and occasionally patting my shoulder as he reminded me that it would all be okay. When I felt like I'd finally cried the last tear, I wiped my face as I sniffled. Jack offered me a handkerchief.
"I didn't know guys still carried these things," I said as I blew my nose.
"My Pop was big on tradition," he said. "Linc and I always got a box of handkerchiefs for our birthdays. And any other holiday, really."
"Wow, how well did that go over?" I said, laughing weakly.
"Not well," he said grimly.
"I'm sorry," I said peeking up at him and seeing that he was serious. "That must have been rough."
"My father was a rough man," he nodded. "He had a very specific way of seeing the world, and we were expected to adopt that way or suffer the consequences—but this isn't about my childhood. This is about how you feel and what you want to do next."
"It's okay, Jack," I said, sitting up and looking at him. The thoughtful expression on his face told me that he was focused on solving my problems not talking about his own. "It's weird how parents can appear so different to the outside world than they do to their kids, isn't it? My mother is the nicest person on Earth to strangers, but at home . . . when she's been drinking, it's a whole different matter."
"My father was always nicer to strangers than he was to us," Jack admitted. "It made me feel like there was something really wrong with me because I wondered why he couldn't be nice to me, too."
"I've always thought it was because my mother felt so much pressure to make sure we were well behaved and grew up to be successful adults," I said as I leaned into his body. "She didn't have that pressure when it came to strangers."
"I always thought my father was trying to fix what he'd done wrong by making us be better than him," Jack said. "Like he was trying to beat the bad out of us so that we'd be good without having to try so hard."
"My mother did that to Molly, my older sister," I said quietly. "I think it made her go the other way. She escaped into drugs and drinking because she felt like such a failure."
"I think that's what Lincoln and I did, too. We just had the benefit of money and an education," he said sheepishly. "We escaped into success, but it didn't make us better people, that's for sure. I think we're both equally miserable despite the fact that we've achieved everything my father hoped we would, and we both have more money than we know what to do with."
"Are you really that miserable?" I asked.
"I'm not miserable. I'm just not very happy," he sighed. "I feel like I've done everything that I thought would make me happy, and now there's nothing left to do."
"Wow, that's really . . ." I began, but stopped because I was unsure of what to say next. I didn't have this problem. I had so much I still wanted to do, but I didn't have the resources I needed to be able to do it.
"I know, first world problems, right?" he sighed again. "I feel like my life is so meaningless—like I'm going through the motions and doing what's expected, but nothing makes me happy anymore."
"Have you thought about seeing a doctor for that?" I teased as I reached up and patted his cheek.
"Ha!" he laughed and was about to say something when a car pulled into the driveway and the front door opened. Jack started to get up and then saw that it was his brother exiting the house. He ducked back down behind the bush in front of us, put his finger to his lips, and said, "Shhh."
Peering through the bush, Jack tried to get a look at the person getting out of the car. When he couldn't, he settled in on the bench and waited to see if he could hear their voices.
"I told you not to come here tonight," Lincoln said tersely. "Everyone's here. What if someone saw you?"
"Oh, do shut up, you silly worrywart," the woman replied. I didn't recognize the voice, but Jack's eyes widened as he listened. "I have information that can't be transmitted via phone or email, and it's urgent."
"Fine, tell me what you need to tell me, and then get the hell out of here," Lincoln said.
"The Chinese are ready to make a deal on the warehouse operation, and the buyers from New Delhi are ready to take over the ordering portion and the customer service phone support," she said as if ticking things off a list. "I think we need to settle the deal with the Chinese before we talk with the Indians. Otherwise we're going to have a hell of a time selling them the partial pieces."
"You should have thought of that before you started bolstering the warehouse operation stateside, Sloan," he replied.
Now it was my turn to look at Jack with wide eyes. I wasn't sure that what I was hearing was correct, but the implications were clear: Lincoln and Sloan were working together to break up Baby Steps. I felt Jack's arm tighten around me and saw him put his finger to his lips again to remind me to stay quiet. I nodded and continued listening.
"If we can break down the pieces of the company, we can sell them at a substantial profit and pay off the shareholders before we take our cut of the deal," Lincoln said. "But you have to stop coddling my little brother. You know we only picked him because we thought he'd run the company into the ground so that he could get back to doing what he was doing before the old man kicked it."
"You're such a cold-hearted jerk," Sloan said with laugh, and then more quietly, "I love that about you."
Jack slid forward and pushed the bushes apart enough to see that Lincoln and Sloan were locked in a passionate embrace.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath.
"Shhhh," I remind him. He nodded and slid back on the bench, his hand squeezing my shoulder tightly.
"I'll take care of your little brother," Sloan said after a lengthy silence. "You take care of sinking the renovation loan and making it look like a bad business deal. If all goes according to plan, we should be able to get out from under this thing in the next month. I want it off the table by the time you make a break with Jessie, and we start to plan the next step."
"Uh, yeah, about that," Lincoln began.
"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet," she said in a terse voice. "I told you when we began this thing that I wasn't going to take no for an answer, Lincoln. I put you in a position to capitalize on the deals that the bank made. You're not going to back out on me now."
"Look, I'm not sure I want to leave my wife right now," Lincoln said. "We have kids."
"Put them in boarding school," Sloan said. "My parents did it and look how I turned out."
"Uh, yeah," Lincoln said hesitating. "All I'm saying is that I need a little more time to figure out the personal side of things, okay?"
"Well, don't drag your feet," Sloan said. "I'd hate to have to pull out the big guns and take aim."
"There's no need to be unreasonable, Sloan," Lincoln said in an icy voice. "I'll figure things out, and we'll get what we're after."
"You'd better hope so," Sloan said as she walked back to her car and opened the door. "I'm not accustomed to being disappointed, and I don't deal well with it when I am."
"Understood," Lincoln said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Usual time and place."
The car door slammed, and Sloan backed out of the driveway, leaving Lincoln standing there alone. He didn't move, but since we couldn't see past the branches in our way, I couldn't tell what he was doing. A few minutes later, we heard him walk up the steps and go back inside the house.
"Well, I'll be damned," Jack said as he looked at me. I had no idea what he was thinking, so I stayed quiet and hoped that he would keep his arm around me a little longer.