Chapter 29 – Chrissy
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
CHRISSY
Ben didn’t call out after me or try to chase me. That’s what kept repeating in my head, like a sick joke I didn’t want to laugh at.
Knowing what I knew about him now, I fully expected him not to take ‘no’ and ‘stay the fuck away from me’ as an answer, but he just lay there in that huge bed, bleeding and noble and tragic, and told me I was free to go.
So… I left, but my legs barely carried me as I stormed down the corridor, wiping my face like I could scrub off the last twenty-four hours of nightmares. Of lies. Of stupid, stupid feelings.
“Miss Jones.”
Henry stepped into the hallway like he’d been waiting for me, like he’d known all along that this was coming.
Of course he had. Everyone here knew… everyone except me.
I hated that. I hated them.
And I hated myself most of all, for being stupid enough to fall for it.
“I assume you’ll want to collect your belongings,” Henry said, calm as ever, not judging, not smiling, not pitying. Just existing in that infuriating Henry way only he could.
“Yes,” I snapped. “And I want to leave. Now. Before anything else insane happens in this hellscape of a lodge.”
“I understand.”
He nodded once, crisp and efficient. He’d probably been waiting for this exact job all morning. He escorted me to my room in an insufferable silence.
My hands were shaking so badly I had trouble with the zipper on my suitcase. Henry stepped forward to help, but I shoved his hand away.
“I can do it myself, thanks.”
“Yes, Miss Jones.”
I could feel him trying not to sigh, see him trying not to look sorry for me. I hated that, too. I shoved clothes into my bag. I didn’t fold anything. I didn’t care. I just needed the fuck out of here before my brain caught up with everything that had just happened.
Including the part where Jacob — no, Ben, actually — literally killed two people with a fucking shovel because they were trying to rape me.
Because they’d heard me screaming for him, and they wanted a taste for themselves.
Fucking Ben. God, I couldn’t even think his damn name without my stomach twisting into knots.
Henry cleared his throat.
“The funds have been wired to your account.”
I froze, then slowly turned my gaze to meet his.
“Already?”
“Mr. Stonewood’s instructions were… rather demandingly immediate.”
Something broke in my chest at that — too fresh, too raw — and I turned away and zipped my bag with a violent yank.
“Great,” I muttered. “Perfect. Let him know I’ll put them to good use.”
“Miss Jones…”
I turned to look at him again, even though I didn’t really want to.
Henry’s face softened, just barely, but enough to make my throat burn.
“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I think you should know that you were the only genuine person in this entire house.”
The words hit harder than I wanted them to. I swallowed them down, shoved past him, and marched toward the exit without a word.
The car Henry had arranged was warm, silent, and private.
Not a limo. Not an SUV. Just a normal sedan like they understood that I didn’t want another ounce of obscene luxury near my body ever again…
because it would always remind me of him.
He said they would bring my own car back to me, soon, once the roads were in better condition.
The drive back to town blurred past in white and gray streaks of storm. My phone buzzed several times, but I ignored everything. I couldn’t handle reality yet… especially the part where reality meant Jacob never really existed.
He was just Ben… Ben in flannel. Ben in soft smiles. Ben playing the faithful servant. Ben listening when I talked. Ben watching me like I mattered actually fucking mattered…
Stop.
Stop.
STOP.
I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, nearly drawing blood.
He’d lied to me. He’d manipulated me. He’d built an entire game — a trap — to get me into his orbit.
It didn’t matter how good the kisses were, or how softly he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, or how my heart had betrayed me with every single stupid beat since I saw him again when he showed up to help me change my blown tire the first night of the retreat.
It didn’t fucking matter because Jacob wasn’t real. I’d fallen for a man who didn’t exist.
My apartment was cold when I unlocked the door. Not the bitter, bone-deep cold of an Alabama ice storm, no, just the cheap apartment kind: old insulation, old windows, old everything.
I dropped my suitcase on the floor with a heavy thud, and I laughed. It sounded so fucking wrong and broken, like something inside me had cracked and the sound escaped through the fissures.
“Home sweet fucking home.”
I caught the faint scent of pine and cold air still clinging to my coat…
the lodge’s smell. His smell. I ripped the coat off like it burned and threw it across the room.
Swearing under my breath, I kicked the door shut and went straight for my laptop.
If I sat still, if I breathed too long, I knew I’d shatter.
So, I logged into my bank account, and there it was. Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars stared back at me. I forgot how to breathe, how to think, how to exist.
I should feel victorious. I should feel relieved. I should feel anything except the hollow, echoing ache that lived inside my ribcage where my heart should be, but I swallowed it and kept going.
Bills? Paid. Rent? Paid. Utilities? Paid.
Medical debt in Granny’s name that I’d been fighting collectors over for ages? Paid.
My own credit cards? Paid.
Past due everything? Paid. Paid. Paid.
Once that was all done and handled, I called Bayview.
“Hi, this is Chrissy Jones. I’d like to upgrade my grandmother’s room.”
“Oh! We do have the private suite open, but—”
I nodded, pacing the perimeter of my tiny dining room.
“Yes. That sounds perfect, thank you.”
“It’s quite a bit more expensive—”
I cleared my throat.
“I said yes. Cost isn’t a problem for me anymore, and I want the best for my grandmother.”
“Of course, Miss Jones. We can move her today.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I murmured as something twisted painfully behind my sternum.
“Of course, Miss Jones.”
“Please take care of her,” I whispered.
“We always do.”
I didn’t break until the call ended. I didn’t break until Granny Irene’s room was upgraded, until the caretaker sent a text with a picture of her in her new bed, smiling with her oxygen tubes tucked neatly at the side.
I didn’t break until all the bills were paid and I had no more tasks to hide behind.
Then it hit me, and it hit me like a fucking freight train.
I braced my hands on the kitchen counter and gasped as reality slammed into me.
Memories assaulted me from every angle. Jacob smiling at me across the dining hall. Jacob telling me that I looked good in green. Jacob listening when no one else did. Jacob slipping into my room in the dark. Jacob kissing me like he’d die without it. Jacob holding me like I wasn’t disposable.
Except he was never Jacob.
He was Benjamin goddamn Stonewood the whole fucking time.
And Ben had been studying me, testing me, and manipulating me for his own ends.
My chest squeezed so hard I thought I might choke to death on the irony. I slid down the cabinets until I hit the floor. Cold tile bit through my jeans. I pressed my hands to my mouth to stop the sob clawing its way up my throat, but it tore through anyway.
“Oh God…” My voice cracked in half. “Oh God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”
Hot, violent tears poured down my face, relentless and unending.
“I fell in love with a lie.”
The admission destroyed me. I buried my face in my shaking hands and cried until my ribs ached. I cried until my breath came in ragged, painful pulls, cried until there was nothing left in me but a soft, hollow throb of betrayal.
And even then, even through all of the anger, the heartbreak, and the humiliation, I still missed him.
That was the worst part, the part that made me feel pathetic, the part that made me shake harder, because the second I stopped moving, the second I let myself feel, my mind replayed the one thing I didn’t want to admit.
He’d risked his life to save me. He’d bled for me.
He’d said that he’d let everything go before hurting me again.
He’d let me walk away, and I couldn’t tell which version of him was the truth.
Jacob? Ben? Or maybe neither one was the real him, for all I knew.
My head dropped against my knees, and as I squeezed my eyes shut, my left hand brushed my face. The cool metal of the ring caught against my cheek.
Fuck.
His mother’s ring was still on my finger, the green stone winking in the dim kitchen light like it belonged there.
I froze, staring at it through blurred vision, my eyes burning like someone had thrown acid in them.
It didn’t feel right to leave it on… not after everything, not after the lies that twisted every promise he’d made. But taking it off… God, the thought gutted me, like ripping out the last piece of something that had felt real, even if it wasn’t.
How was I supposed to get it back to him? Mail it? Drop it off like some discarded trinket? I couldn’t face him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
A quiet, broken whisper slipped out of me.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”