TWENTY-THREE

Jared

“So what’s the verdict?”

The proposal my lawyers drew up had been delivered yesterday, first thing in the morning. Turns out Mr. Torrence had already lawyered up, which was to be expected, and the past twenty-four hours I’ve heard little but that negotiations are underway.

John LeBlanc called yesterday, around noon, to let me know he never showed up to file an official complaint, which let me know he was at least considering the offer.

I’d suggested to throw some money at him too, to sweeten the pot, but Brian advised against it. Said if I started down that road, people would purposely throw themselves in front of my car to cash in.

Hard to believe there was actually a time I enjoyed all the attention—the recognition. As a young kid up in Sault Ste Marie, I’d basked in the glory. People there were rabid about their Greyhounds. Here in Canada, being a hockey player is akin to being a rock star at times. The last ten years playing in the U.S., I’d almost forgotten that. The hockey hype is not quite as big there. I could walk the streets and no one would be the wiser. I have trouble doing that anywhere here.

So Brian may have a point, but I’ve been worried perhaps offering an exclusive won’t be enough.

“I need you in Toronto tomorrow afternoon,” Brian answers. “To sign off on the agreement.”

“He’s taking the deal?” I let out a big breath of relief, the threat of an assault charge weighing heavier on me than I’d realized. I’d always been good at going with the flow, taking life on the chin, but that was when I’d only had myself to worry about. That is no longer the case. Now I can’t wait for things to settle down, get the shit with Jordy’s ex and Ole’s custody sorted, get the damn press off my back for good.

I’m craving calmer waters.

“Looks like, but he wants you there. Says he wants to see you sign off on his final stipulation personally.”

“Final stipulation? What the fuck?” The relief I felt earlier was short lived. “What is he talking about?” I heard Brian’s deep sigh over the phone and guess I probably won’t like what’s coming next.

“He wants Mia there for the interview.”

“Over my dead body,” I bite off instantly, blood roaring in my ears. “He leaves Mia alone or no deal.”

“Buddy, I get it,” Brian tries to appease me, but it only heats me up more. “But keep in mind that this agreement could solve a lot of your problems, in one fell swoop. He’s willing to sign an affidavit outlining how Nick Quarles approached him to make your sister’s life miserable after what happened at your place. The man apparently is hard up for money—gambling debts—and was hoping to get to your bank account through Jordy and the baby. He admitted as much to Torrence. Fuck, Jared, the guy has that entire conversation on tape. Says it’s the journalist in him. The moment he heard Quarles say your name, every word was recorded.” Brian pauses before he hammers home his point. “Marie says with that tape she can make any claim for custody disappear. Permanently. Mia for Ole, my friend.”

“Son of a bitch!” I roar, hurling the mug I was holding against the fireplace, shattering it against the stone. Griffin jumps up from his spot by the coffee table and starts whimpering, and I can hear Ole cry out in his room. Fucking brilliant.

I sit down on the couch, dropping my head in my hand, as my sister comes tearing into the room, Mia right behind her holding a crying Ole.

“Jesus, Jared—What the hell?”

I lift my head and watch as Jordy takes in the scene and takes a few steps toward me, but Mia shoots out a hand to stop her.

“Here,” she says, calmly. “You take the baby in the nursery and feed him, while I clean this up.” She enforces her words by shoving the baby in Jordy’s arms and resolutely turning her in the right direction. Surprisingly she goes without argument. When Mia turns to me, there is concern on her face as she looks at the phone still clutched in my hand.

“I’ve gotta call you back,” I tell Brian, my voice flat, and end the call. I watch while Mia moves to let the dog out, gently talking to him, before returning to bend down in front of the fireplace, picking up the shards of my coffee mug.

“Leave it. I’ll do it,” I tell her, but she ignores me, swiftly removing the evidence of my outburst, save for the dark coffee stain on the exposed stone.

This is the second time I’ve lost control in front of her. Because of her. She has every remaining Neanderthal gene raring to life. I used to laugh at guys who’d talk about their woman. Could never understand that whole possessive he-man thing. Not until Mia.

I stay put as she carries the pieces into the kitchen and dumps them in the trash, before she washes her hands. My eyes follow every move and watch as she finally turns and walks toward me. I fight the urge to rub my head against her as she reaches out and runs her fingers through my hair, before she takes a seat beside me.

“Talk to me.”

Her touch, her voice, her presence; it calms me.

“Taylor Torrence wants you to be there for the interview. That’s not gonna happen. I won’t agree to it,” I quickly add, the moment I feel her body go rigid.

“Why?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“Because I won’t subject you to that.”

“No. I mean why would he want me there?”

Good question, one I hadn’t really considered until now. But I have a good guess.

“He knows it’s a sure way to get under my skin,” I explain, vaguely recalling what I yelled at him while I was rearranging his face just two days ago. “Told him I’d never allow him to even breathe the same air as you. Guess this is him, letting me know who’s in control. Fuck!” I move to stand up, but Mia’s hold on my arm stops me.

“I’ll do it.”

I can barely hear her through the chaos in my head, as I turn to face her.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll do it,” she repeats, looking me straight in the eye.

“No way,” I tell her adamantly. “That won’t happen. We’ll find another way to nail Nick.”

“Nick? Wait...what aren’t you telling me?”

“Not your concern,” I bluntly state, and I can visibly see her retreat before her eyes turn to slits and she tilts her head.

“He’s got something on Nick, doesn’t he?” I don’t respond either way, but I can see the wheels turning. “Something he’ll only give to you, if you let him have his way.”

“Can’t put you through that, Beautiful.”

“Not your choice, Jared,” she fires right back, scrambling to her feet and turning on me with her hands on her hips and her face in mine. “I was going to do it when I thought it was only about you getting off the hook. If you think you’re gonna stop me now that I know it could help get rid of Ole’s sperm donor at the same time, you’ve got another thing coming. Not. Your. Choice.” With that she swings around, and with her shoulders square and her head high, she marches down the hall to the spare bedroom.

I hold back from rushing after her.

Instead, I consider her words and clue in I’m not the only one with a protective streak a mile wide when it comes to loved ones. Probably without realizing it, Mia has just shown me in no uncertain terms how invested she is. Enough to go toe-to-toe with me.

I can’t stop the smile teasing the corners of my mouth as I dial Brian back. I’m still pissed to have been forced in this position, but I’m seriously relieved Mia effectively took the choice out of my hands. Never mind that she took my balls in the process.

My ego is sustaining some serious bruising.

Mia

I can’t believe I was that stupid.

I’d fallen asleep last night, still attached with Jared in every sense of the word, after letting go of all my fears and allowing my carefully guarded heart to bubble over. It was easier than I expected, once he’d opened up to me. But the warm and fuzzy blanket of emotions took a pretty drastic turn this morning when I woke up alone in bed, with the sticky evidence of careless behaviour on the tender skin of my thighs.

I haven’t used the pill since I had my miscarriage. Even then, it had only been for a short time until Blair and I wanted to try again. When that never happened, I never bothered again. Just because I don’t think pregnancy is really a concern, there are other things that are.

In a relatively short timespan, I’ve all but moved in here. Even if the reasons were protection and safety, and the move is only temporary, I can’t deny that I could easily get used to this. The reality is, that not that long ago, I watched as Jared fucked another woman right out there on the dock. And I’m pretty sure he wasn’t wearing a condom then.

It’s not really fair to feel resentment over something that happened before I came along, and yet it eats at my gut. More so this morning than anytime before, I have to admit. Maybe this is all moving too fast. I feel like I’ve become caught up in a windstorm and I’m desperately trying to grab onto something solid. It’s not that I don’t believe he loves me. He’s really done nothing to make me doubt the validity of his feeling. Nor do I doubt my own. It’s just that instead of feeling like a changing tide, as Rueben so eloquently described it, this feels more like a tsunami. And having unprotected sex is only an invitation to more chaos.

I was set to talk to him, as soon as I could get some time with him alone this afternoon, but then the next wave hit with that damn interview. Oh, I put on a good front, but for all my bluster, I’m shaking inside. The stress of everything is closing in on me.

I find myself standing in front of the window, looking out over the water at my own cottage. My little sanctuary that has served me well for many years. I think of my garden that has been ignored for days at a time and my nightly paddles on the lake. The soothing comfort of steady routines. Part of me realizes that I can’t go back there, not now, not after I’ve had a taste of all I’ve been missing. It comes with complications, though. Life is messy, and unless you want to live alone on an island, completely cut off from the world, the mess will find you.

Just then the door behind me opens. I already know it’s Jared before his arms slip around my front, and I feel the press of his lips against my neck.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he rumbles, and I can’t hold back the snort.

“Believe me,” I assure him. “You don’t want in my head right now.”

“You would be wrong,” he says, turning me in his arms. I tilt back so I can look at him. “I very much want in there. I want in your head, I want under your skin, and I really want in your body,” he finishes, lowering his head to brush his lips over mine. He gives me the opening right there and I take it.

“You already are. In fact you were so much inside my body last night, I could still feel you on me this morning,” I tell him, watching his face go from smug to concerned.

“Shit,” he whispers when realization hits.

“Yeah...shit is about right,” I acknowledge. “Look, I hate to bring this up, but remember I saw you with her. On the dock,” I clarify when he looks a little lost. It helps, because his face immediately turns remorseful. Before he can form the apology I know is coming, I lift up on my toes and get a little closer to his face. “You were not wearing a condom then, either.”

“Shit,” he repeats, this time dropping his arms from around me and running a hand through his hair. I feel the distance immediately.

“Right,” I soldier on. “So I’m not on anything, but I’m not too worried about pregnancy. It would constitute a miracle for me to get pregnant.”

“Why?” His reaction is instant and a little bit startling.

“Because other than one miscarriage almost fifteen years ago, I was never able to get pregnant again,” I explain clinically, and I pretend not to see the flinch passing over his face. “I’m more concerned about disease.” This time there’s no ignoring the expression on his features.

“I’m clean,” he says, barely able to disguise a hurt I couldn’t quite place. “I was checked not long after...after that incident. I would never have come near you, covered or uncovered without making sure of that.” He barks out a harsh laugh. “Amazing, how one minute you make me feel ten feet tall and the next like pond scum.”

There it is, the reason for the pain on his face. Trust. Or rather the lack thereof—from me. I can justify my right to be concerned, but the truth of it is, I slapped him with a past he can’t undo, even though he has done nothing since to give me reason to doubt him. Emotion chokes the words of apology that want to escape, when he opens the door and is about to step through.

“And for the record?” he says, turning in the doorway. “I wasn’t concerned about any of it. Not disease and certainly not pregnancy. Because I never even considered the first to be an issue, and wouldn’t have been able to see the last as anything but a blessing.”

When the door slams behind him, I sit down on the edge of the bed and let the tears fall.

-

I never came out of the room after that.

Hours I spent listening to the boats on the water, ignoring Jordy’s occasional soft knocks on my door, my mind in turmoil. Until the sun started going down and I finally stripped off my clothes, and in just a tank top and my underwear, I slipped under to covers and cried myself to sleep.

I’m not sure what time it is, when I feel a pair of strong arms slip around me and cradle me close.

“I told you I’m no good at this.” Jared’s voice sounds thick with emotion and immediately my tears well up again. “I overreacted. Turns out, I don’t just have a temper I didn’t know I had, but I also can hold a mean grudge.”

I can’t believe he’s here apologizing when that should be me. The shame I felt earlier is back in full force and then some.

“Please don’t,” I sob, turning around and immediately burying my face in his neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“Shhh,” he hushes me, using his hand to hold my head even closer. “I know you didn’t, Beautiful. So much is going on—I feel so fucking much, I don’t know which way is up. It’s making me stupid. Life gets crazy, and it’s all I can do to hang on, but as long as I can hold on to you, I’m grounded. Don’t let me go.”

I wrap my limbs around him so there’s not a lick of air that can get between us.

“Will it always be like this?” I finally ask when my crying jag runs its course.

“Sure as fuck hope not. Not if I have any say in it,” he mumbles, tilting my head back, kissing the wet from my face before he softly presses his lips to mine. His eyes look heavy with fatigue but genuine and warm, and I finally close mine, letting sleep take me.