Fears and Scars (16 page)

“
J
acob
,” I say, taking a seat on the couch the next morning. My head throbs like a motherfucker from all the alcohol I consumed last night.

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “We need to talk, bud.”

Notebooks, empty soda cans, and Chinese food containers litter the coffee table in front of me, but now’s not the time to lecture him about cleanliness.

“I’m asleep. Go away.”

It’s almost noon, and I know he is still in bed because he doesn’t want to interact with me. Looks like I should cut to the chase. “I don’t want to be with anyone but Elizabeth even though we broke up five months ago.”

That makes Jacob sit up. We’ve talked about his sister from time to time, but I’ve never told him we broke up.

“Because of me?” he asks and watches my eyes solemnly.

“Because of me,” I reassure him. “She asked me not to do something, and I did it anyway.”

My therapist’s words come to mind: ‘Do you ever consider that you associate love with sacrifice because of your upbringing? Maybe you lied to Elizabeth knowing it would cause the breakup because you felt like you weren’t proving your love for her enough?’ I doubt he’s right, but I’m sure that what I did was a mistake.

“I was a moron and got what I deserved.”

His brows knit together. “You cheated on her?”

“God, Jacob. We’ve been living together for months. Have you seen me with anyone?” I ask, frustrated.

“You disappear at night sometimes.”

“To drive. It clears my head.”

“Oh.”

“I love your sister. Even though I screwed it up, I still hoped we’d be together someday. Last night that hope slapped me in the face and turned its back on me.”

I still feel like shit, but a bit of satisfaction courses through me from explaining things to Jacob. He deserves better from me.

He starts to say something and then stops and shakes his head, “I … why are you helping me then? I mean if you and my sister are no longer together why are you still helping me?”

“Let’s just say I have my reasons.” Uncomfortable with the direction this conversation is going, I tell him, “Please, keep the tutor if she’s good. I feel absolutely nothing for her. And I promise to talk to her and explain that I’m very much taken.” Seeing his unconvinced expression, I add, “Just think about it.

“You’re a good kid,” I tell him deciding it’s time for breakfast.

Of course he protests. “I’m not a kid.”

I stand up, intent on going into the kitchen, but Jacob’s words stop me. “Ryan, she wrote me.”

“What?” I sit back.

“Elizabeth. She wrote me to my uncle’s address two months ago. The social worker gave me the letter during one of her checkups while you were in the other room.”

I swallowed thickly. “Have you written her back?”

“I did. She gave me her email in the letter, and we’ve been writing back and forth ever since.”

Happiness fills me. I’m glad Liz connected with her brother. I knew she’d find the courage one day. It’s just more proof I should have told her everything from the start. Mark was right. I’m a moron. And that stupidity has cost me the love of my life.

“I wanted to tell you,” Jacob admits, looking down sheepishly, “but it was between us at first. And then I didn’t know how.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re talking,” I tell him truthfully before thinking of something. “Wait. Did you tell her you were staying with me?” I ask in a rush.

“No. It’s against the contract. Plus, from what she wrote me, I figured she didn’t know.”

“Thank fuck,” I say relieved.

“I was also kind of scared you’d kick me out if I told you.”

I close my eyes briefly and try to choose my response carefully. I can’t explain everything without telling Jacob more than I’m comfortable with. But then again, I want him to know I’ll never kick him out no matter what. I want him to stop worrying and realize he has a home now.

“Mark’s and my father was a bastard. When I was a kid, I wished I had someone to protect us. Nobody ever did. You can’t imagine how many people knew what was going on. How the best thing was when he neglected us for months at a time. We always had money and food, but he abused us verbally and was quick to slap us around. All those nannies and private school teachers … they did nothing. Hell, I know he’d pay his way out of everything, but still ...

“I was nine when I reported him to social services. Mark was sick, and one of our drivers took us to the hospital. In my childish logic, it was a great opportunity. I just watched some film about how a kid was in the hospital and told his doctor everything that was happening to him at home. Of course on television he was taken away and placed with the perfect family. I believed that’d happen to Mark and me.”

“They split you up?”

I shake my head. “Father showed up with his big check book and they did nothing except take his money for a new hospital wing. I did learn one lesson then. Some woman came and told me we were under investigation. She took me to her apartment and said Mark was placed in a separate home. I didn’t see my brother for twelve days.” My voice is steady when I speak, but tremors go through my body as I remember that day. Twenty-two years later and I still feel the fear and the pain. “Then she drove me home, and my father told me Mark didn’t make it. I sobbed. He laughed. After several hours, he got bored with my wailing and told me his hardwood floors couldn’t stand another one of my tears, then he told the new nanny to take me to Mark, who was alive and crying in his room, thinking our father will never bring me back home. My brother was so afraid to get sick again. He thought it was all his fault. And I, well, I was warned that if I did something like that again, Mark wouldn’t survive.”

I run my hands down my face to obliterate the image of my five-year-old brother scared out of his mind.

“You can’t imagine how angry I was when the bastard died before I could make him pay. A million times I regretted not killing him myself. Until I met Liz, all my efforts were toward revenge. I wanted to destroy his empire. To tear it apart until there was nothing left. But Liz, she showed me I can do so much better. She made me realize I’m free to do whatever I want with my life. And that needing justice didn’t make me a monster.

“The point in me telling you all this is that you need to understand that you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you. I’m getting something I never got myself.”

“A way out.” His understanding is almost a physical thing. “You’re being the savior you never had.”

“I’m not a savior. I have money, and I love your sister even though we aren’t together. So I’m just trying to help you to have a better life. I know you had it bad with your uncle. I see the nightmares and know you have your own demons. All I’m asking is that you don’t allow your past to dictate your future. Be better than that.”

“I’ll try,” Jacob says with a sincerity I’ve never heard from him before. “It’s hard, but I promise you I’ll do my best. I never once said it, but I’m very grateful for everything you do for me.”

Giving him a tight smile, I ask, “Do you like working with Clay?”

A couple of weeks ago Jacob told me he wanted to start working part-time. I was apprehensive at first, but he seems to like it. After all, Clayton is one of Mark’s closest friends, so he keeps an eye on Jacob.

“I like it. A lot of the men who work there are ex-marines.” That’s not surprising since besides being the best investigation agency in New York, Clay also offers security services. “It makes me feel closer to my dad.”

“Do you want to enlist?”

“It’s banned isn’t it? I don’t have millions to pay you for breach of contract,” he taunts.

It was one of the conditions I demanded when Jacob signed the contract in juvie—never enlist.

“I don’t want to ruin your dreams. Back then, the only thing I thought was that Elizabeth didn’t deserve to lose the only family she had. That’s why I did it.” I never took Jacob’s wishes into consideration.

“Dude, it’s okay. I don’t think I want it anyway. I’m more into computers. Plus, after Mom lost Dad she was never the same. She blamed the Army a lot. And she made me promise her I wouldn’t enlist anyway.”

Unbelievable. I can’t help but laugh. “You tricked me?”

“Did not.” A smile creeps onto his face.

“No Internet for a week.”

“Ouch. How am I going to jerk off without porn?”

“This is just disgusting. No spending time with Mark for a week either.”

A loud boom of a sound that is Jacob’s laughter fills the room. I must be losing my authoritative vibe.

“Come on. Let’s see what we can eat.”

“She’s great,” he says, his words falling quickly before I have a chance to stand up.

“What?”

“My sister. She’s kind of cool.”

“Tell me about it,” I mumble.

Images of Elizabeth with another man swirl in my head.

“She loves you, you know. She didn’t tell me your name or anything, but from the things she wrote me … I can tell she loves you a lot. You have to fight for her.”

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“She moved on.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “Come on, you aren’t a pussy. It won’t be a problem to you to chase away the competition. If you truly love her, go to her and fight.”

“Jacob—”

“I’ll be sixteen next week, and the judge will emancipate me, you’ll see. Either way, you should go to Moscow. I’ll be fine with Mark. I promise to study, go to school, and not to swear every few minutes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With that, I stand up and make my way toward my bedroom, too tired to think about anything. Screw breakfast. I need a few more hours of sleep. Then again, I have a hungry teenager on my hands. So, I turn back and tell him, “Be ready in half an hour. We’re going out for breakfast.”

“Sweet. Your cooking sucks.”

H
is lips are
at my shoulder, leaving a whisper of a kiss there. “I’m so sorry, Liz. I’m so very sorry.”

The smoothness of his fingertips ghosts over my skin as he drags them across my back. “I made a mistake. Please, forgive me. Please …”

I wake up with a jolt. Confused, I blink against the sun shining through my bedroom window. As my eyes adjust to the light, reality seeps in slowly and my heart sinks. There is no Ryan next to me. In fact, I find myself alone in my room, on the bed, fully dressed in the same clothes from last night.

I sit straight up and try to clear my thoughts. I drank. A lot. I danced. A lot. I also laughed. And now I have a splitting headache. Peachy.

Ivan helped me into the cab and then into the apartment. Am I remembering that right?

Crap, I’m never drinking again.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with the heel of my hand, I force myself to stand.

As I make my way to the bathroom, I find Ivan in my living room looking cozy and chatting with Nina on the couch.

“Please, tone it down,” I plead. Each word is like a hard smack on the head.

“Hey, princess. Looking great this morning,” Nina greets me cheerfully.

“Hmm,” I mumble, my screaming bladder preventing me from having any kind of conversation. After I use the restroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face, I feel a little better.

“I heard you had fun last night,” Nina declares as I drag myself to the kitchen.

I give her another, “Hmm.”

Right now, I need three things—water, something for my headache, and a shower. Oh, and a new pain-free head that makes wise decisions would be great.

“She did have fun last night. At one point she was dancing so vigorously, I was afraid she’d break her neck,” Ivan informs Nina, and they both burst out laughing. I wince from the loud sound.

“Ha-ha.” I don’t even have the energy to defend my mad dancing skills. Instead, I open the cabinet and take out a bottle of Ibuprofen. I pop two pills into my mouth and swallow them with a whole cup of water.

“It’s not fair. You had drinks too.” I point to Ivan as I shuffle toward the couch and slump down between my friends. “Why I am the only one who’s suffering?”

“Poor baby,” Nina coos at me, “You just can’t hold your liquor.”

“You can train more, though,” Ivan adds.

I bring my hand to my forehead. “You two suck. But thank you for taking care of me,” I tell my study buddy.

“No problem. I was afraid to leave you alone in your state, so I spent the night on this comfortable couch. Your lovely roommate came home an hour ago and made me the best coffee in the world.” He gives Nina one of his charming smiles and a wink. And I give her a look questioning her whereabouts.

“You deserve only the best coffee for taking care of Liza,” she answers, avoiding my silent interrogation.

“Ivan, thank you for last night again. I owe you.” I scrub my hands over my face. “Can I have the best coffee in the world too?” I ask Nina, making puppy dog eyes. Standing up again to make a cup for myself seems like the worst idea in the world.

“Of course.” She hugs me “Ew. Go take a shower. You stink.”

I smack her arm playfully. “Gee, thanks.”

“Go shower and be quick. We’re leaving in an hour.”

I frown. “Leaving?”

“Remember how you agreed to volunteer with me at the orphanage last week? To teach the kids some English, play with them? That’s today.”

Dozens of adorable but very vocal kids appear in my mind.

Kill me now.

B
y Monday morning
, I’m as good as new and smiling from ear to ear as I arrive at the office. Jacob’s email this morning raised my spirits immensely. And I couldn’t be happier that we seem to have hit it off.

But as soon as I see a bouquet of flowers and a small box sitting on my desk, shock freezes me. Ryan. White orchids and freesias are
our
flowers.

My heart is beating so hard I need to sit down. Dropping into the chair behind my desk doesn’t help much.

September 7th. Today was supposed to be our wedding day.

Before I have time to contemplate what the wise thing to do is, my hands are shaking, and I’m removing the lid from the small box. A platinum necklace with a pendant in the form of a small plane is inside.

Planes are symbolic in my life. Planes take people from me. Once upon a time, I thought one particular plane brought my soulmate into my life. I couldn’t be more mistaken.

I turn the pendant and read: “
I love you. Always.”

A tornado of emotions spirals through me as my eyes skim the inscription again and again.

I feel like I may break in half from all the emotions coursing through my body—pain, happiness, relief, and astonishment.

I love you. Always.

Who does that? Who sends his ex-fiancée such a romantic gift after five damn months of silence? After he dumped her?

I look for a card in the bouquet. Against my will, my heart skips a beat when I find it nestled in between the white beauties.

It’s printed in elegant but masculine black script font.

A smile after what he did? Is he fucking kidding me? What was he thinking sending this anniversary present? Why would he want to jab another sword into my bleeding heart? Did he send this from some parallel universe where we’re still together?

But we aren’t. He’s just carving more wounds into my heart. Bastard.

I thought I was getting over him and now this?

My heart throbs as I stare at Ryan’s gift. That stupid misunderstanding at the airport was the biggest mistake of my life.

“Damn you to hell, Ryan Price,” I mutter under my breath, but that doesn’t diminish the hurt. Neither does mentally calling him every nasty name under the sun in both English and Russian.

Before Ana arrives and starts asking me about the flowers, I take them to the reception area and put the necklace in my purse. Returning to my desk, I hope the out-of-sight-out-of-mind technique works.

I don’t admit to myself that last night I dreamed of Ryan telling me he regrets breaking up with me. Again.

Dreams are just dreams. They don’t mean anything.