Chapter 12 Helena
I should have figured Jessiah would get his revenge somehow, but I was so happy about having gotten one over on him that it made me complacent. He took advantage of it, and instead of landing beside him, I landed right on top of him. Like characters in some silly rom-com.
I wanted to get up right away, or at least roll to the side, but my brain failed to comply.
I was looking directly into his eyes, could feel his body flush with mine, couldn’t stop my mouth going dry as I sensed him beneath me, every single one of his tensed muscles.
He’d grabbed me out of sheer reflex; he was holding on to my arms and he wasn’t letting go.
He just kept looking at me. I was in a kind of trance from the proximity to him, and something in my body reacted against my will.
Was it possible to be attracted to someone you simply couldn’t stand? That you hated, even?
Damn it, it really was.
With that thought, the spell was broken. I finally tore my eyes away from him, shifted my weight onto my arms and climbed off.
Jessiah stood as well, much more elegantly than me, with an expression on his face that I couldn’t read.
“I think that makes us even,” he said in a neutral tone.
“Hardly,” I replied grimly, redoing the braid in my hair that had come loose during Jessiah’s demonstration. We’ll only be even when I’ve proved you were wrong about Valerie.
“Right. You’re avenging your sister.” He rolled his eyes, and I was instantly furious again. “You ever think your time might be better spent on other things?”
I glared at him. “Like I said last time, you have no idea who Valerie was.”
“Oh right—so she wasn’t a party girl who frequented a new exclusive club every weekend?” he said, mock curious, but it was plain to me that his anger had long since gotten the upper hand as well. I was here for it. After all, he was a Coldwell.
“Even if she was,” I threw back at him, “that was part of her job.” Why did no one understand that some people kept their real selves hidden? Especially if, like my sister, they’d learned it was better not to show their entire interior world to the public. “And it doesn’t mean that she did drugs.”
“Oh, come on, do you really believe that?” Jessiah ran a hand through his hair. “I was at those parties too sometimes; don’t tell me you weren’t. There’s always someone doing a bump of coke.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Someone. But that doesn’t mean everyone is. Did you?”
He shrugged. “A couple of times. But it wasn’t for me.”
“Can you say the same for Adam?” The question was out of my mouth before I realized it wasn’t safe to say that to him. If the Coldwells found out I was looking for proof of Valerie’s innocence, they’d do everything they could to stop me. And God knows how far they’d go.
“No. Adam never took anything.” Jessiah’s voice shook with suppressed anger.
“My brother was the most respectable person in this whole fucking city. He always took care of everyone else before himself, never partied too hard, never went overboard. Until Valerie came along. You’re a smart girl, Helena, so tell me—how is it you can’t see any link there? ”
I shook my head. Was he seriously trying to convince me his terrible take was correct?
“Why can’t you see that that was exactly Adam’s problem? The expectation, the pressure, all the people he had to take care of? Valerie was the first person who was there for him, not the other way around.”
“Oh sure. Her of all people. A Weston, interested in nothing but herself.” Jessiah gave a derisive snort. “Adam was nothing to Valerie but a nice distraction, just like all the guys she dated before him. You just can’t see it because you worship her so blindly.”
I drew in a sharp breath. He’d gotten it so wrong—still, his words hit home.
How many times had I asked myself over the last few years whether I’d missed something.
Whether Valerie had kept secrets from me that led to her death.
And as I stared at Jessiah, poster boy for the family who had indirectly cast my sister in the role of murderer, I wanted to hurt him.
I wanted to hurt him just as much as he’d hurt me.
And it wasn’t long before I thought of the perfect thing to say.
“Do you know what Adam told me, the last time I talked to him before he died?” I asked, struggling to remain composed. “He told me he wanted you to be his best man. But he was afraid to ask. He thought you thought the wedding was stupid. He thought you wouldn’t come. Did you know that?”
As soon as the words crossed my lips, I knew they’d hit the mark.
The furious smolder in Jessiah’s eyes died, replaced by a sadness that I felt as keenly if it were my own—after all, we had both lost someone we loved.
And I was suddenly sorry for saying what I’d said.
Not because I didn’t think he deserved it, but because I had behaved exactly the same as he and his family had.
I’d given my grief more importance than his, made out like my pain at losing Valerie was worse than his at losing Adam.
I wasn’t that person. I didn’t want to be that person.
I took a breath in. But he got there first.
“No,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “I didn’t know that.” Then he left the room, and I stood there staring at the open door, until a man around thirty with short, dark hair came in and introduced himself.
“Hey, I’m Rafe.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “You must be Helen. I’m sorry about the emergency measures—next time it’ll all run like clockwork, I promise. Shall we start?”
I tore my eyes away from the door, shook my trainer’s hand, and nodded. “Yeah,” I said somewhat hesitantly. “Let’s get going.”
After training was over I was pretty beat, but it had been worth it.
Rafe was even more demanding than my trainer in Cambridge had been, but he was also quick to praise, and he motivated me to go beyond my limits.
Best of all, he’d given me such a workout that I was no longer capable of thinking about Jessiah, for which I was grateful.
He had started it by insulting Valerie in public.
It was only fair he knew what it was like to feel so hurt. Wasn’t it?
“You’ve got great technique,” said Rafe, once we were done and had left the training hall. “Where did you train before?”
“England. I did two semesters at Cambridge.” I stuck to the truth, since I couldn’t hide the faint accent anyway.
“Well, whoever taught you in England did a good job.” Rafe studied me. “Would you be interested in competitive fighting, if we can train you up? We’re a bit weak on female representation.”
Before I could reply, Demi appeared beside us. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear the word weak,” she said. “But he’s right, I’m afraid. We have considerably more men than women. We’d be thrilled to have you as a full-time member.”
That hadn’t really been the plan. I’d only wanted access to Simon, not to make a long-term thing out of this. I’d signed up with a fake name, after all, and couldn’t be sure that Jessiah would keep quiet about that forever.
But despite everything, I heard myself saying, “Sure, why not.” I liked it here—aside from that one other member—and anyway, Simon was nowhere to be seen, so I was going to have to take more classes to get a chance to talk to him.
And maybe I’d manage to schedule my sessions in the future so I didn’t run into Jessiah Coldwell.
“Okay, then. I’ll get you the forms.” Demi waved me over to the counter, and I thanked Rafe before following her. “Hey, what happened with Jessiah?” she asked. “After he finished with you he just grabbed his stuff and was out the door.”
I shrugged, feigning ignorance. “No idea. He thought I was a beginner, and I quickly showed him I’m not. Maybe that bruised his ego.”
“I really can’t imagine that. Jess likes strong women. In every respect.”
“Is that experience talking?” I raised an eyebrow. Had there been something between them—or was there still? And why did I care, anyway?
“No.” Demi laughed. “But I’ve trained with Jess many times, and he’s not one of those I’ll show you how it’s done, babe types.
” She bent down behind the counter and reappeared with a few sheets of paper in hand.
“Maybe it was his brother. He usually takes off pretty quickly if there’s something up. ”
I saw my chance and played dumb. “His brother? I thought his brother died.”
“Yeah, his older brother. But he has a younger brother, Eli; he must be fourteen or fifteen now. He’s got some issues, since that thing a few years ago.”
I cast my mind back but couldn’t remember. “What happened?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too curious.
“Eli was kidnapped.” Demi shook her head. “The family chauffeur was involved in the abduction. It was at least a week before they found Eli.”
My eyes grew wide, and I wasn’t acting this time.
I hadn’t known anything about that. “Kidnapped? That’s crazy.
” That had been my parents’ biggest fear when my siblings and I were younger, but nothing had ever happened to us, thankfully.
Jessiah’s younger brother clearly hadn’t been so lucky, though, and my heart went out to him instinctively.
“You said it. Anyway, Jess has been looking after Eli since Adam’s death, because his mom…
Don’t tell anyone I said this, but she’s a real witch.
” Demi pulled a face. “Sometimes Eli has panic attacks, and Jess has to rush off.” She laughed out loud.
“Oh gosh, sorry, I’m totally spilling the beans here. You probably couldn’t care less.”
I gave a half smile. The fact that Demi had called Trish a witch made me like her even more. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just sorry for Eli. And Jess, of course.” Had I just said that out loud, and almost meant it? Wow.
“Yeah, with some people it never rains, but it sure as hell pours, as they say.” Demi marked the places on the form where I had to sign. “First the father dies, then that happens with Eli, and then Adam’s death… Jess wasn’t exactly dealt a good hand.”