CHAPTER 42
Aaron
George’s phone pings again with another text message alert. Reading the message, he sighs. Pacing past him on the couch, I give him a sympathetic look as I confirm the details the lawyer on the phone repeats back to me. I’m so grateful that he’s here and how supportive he’s been since I told him and my parents everything yesterday morning. He even went to the funeral home in town with me to help arrange Jason’s transport back to Seattle. Right now, he’s running defense to our worried mother and doing an admirable job of keeping her at bay. Rolling his eyes at me, he shakes his head and rattles off another text message to her.
Doing another lap around the couch, I rub the tense muscles in my neck as Sam Hodges, the pro bono lawyer we found, goes over all the information I gave him. He’s going to help me navigate through the unexpected debt that Jason racked up and even thinks he can get some of it waived, considering the circumstances.
I don’t think Grace Reider will be very happy that he has questions for her, but my sympathy level for my former mother-in-law has severely decreased since I found out she knew all along that her son hadn’t been killed in a car accident. I was the one they drained dry and had debts put upon while she and Jason went on living their best lives. While I don’t wish anyone ill, Sam is convinced that he should be able to prove some kind of money movement between the two of them. If that gets me further out of the red, I don’t mind sharing a little bit of my misery with Grace, after all the unkind phone calls she’s given me over the past two years.
There’s a knock at the door and my first instinct is that it’s more trouble. That seems to be the only thing that’s found my door lately. Exchanging glances with George, I shrug, but then I notice the Suburban parked out front.
Smiling, I tell Sam that I’ll have to call him back. When I open the door, Easton’s expression is dire. I don’t understand why until he looks down and angles a black gym bag forward from behind his back. Jason’s black gym bag.
“I…found this on my coffee table last night.”
“Is that…Jason’s?”
Wincing, he nods. Reaching into his coat, he pulls out a folded sheet of paper and hands it to me. “There was a note attached to it.”
My hands tremble as I take it from him. What in God’s name does this mean? Moving back, I find the sense to let him in and close the door. I don’t like how grave his face looks right now. He gives George a nod, looking weary.
I’ve overburdened my brother and my parents with enough information. Something tells me I’m not going to like what this surprise is, so I’d rather find out before I decide if I want to share it with George just yet.
“George…could you give us some privacy, please? You’ve done so much already. I don’t know how to thank you.”
It was nothing, he signs, casting a curious glance at Easton. Are you sure? I don’t mind staying if you need me.
I want to weep over having my brother back. His quick call to action, when I didn’t even know I needed someone, will forever leave an imprint on my heart.
“Yeah. This is Easton,” I inform him. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you later.”
Nodding, he steps forward and shakes Easton’s hand. The introduction was something I was hoping for under different circumstances, but it warms my heart that they’ve finally met. Still, the sight of the bag in Easton’s hand has my pulse pumping erratically, anxious for the moment George leaves.
I’ll deal with Mom, he signs, giving my shoulder a squeeze before he heads to the door.
“Thank you.”
Alone now with Easton, the eerie bag, and a note with his name on it, I cast him a questioning look, but he says nothing. Setting the bag down on the back of the couch, he unzips it, revealing bundles of cash. His throat undulates like it’s difficult to swallow, and his gaze shifts from mine to the note, telling me that’s where he wants me to find my answers.
Unfolding it, I read it. And then… I read it again, trembling harder the second time.
The message is between the lines, but my brain puts together the meaning of the new black mark on Leonard’s soul and why he’d have Jason’s bag.
“Did you know?” I wheeze.
“No,” he chokes out. “No, I swear.”
Gaping at the contents of the bag, it feels like a subway train flashing through my mind. The whir of mental images and the questions speed through my brain in a blur.
I set the note on the back of the couch, no longer able to hold what feels like a murder weapon. There’s a folder inside the bag, and my stomach churns upon seeing it. Jason pulled a marriage certificate out of here one day. I can only imagine what Easton must have thought if he saw it.
It’s inside, making my face flame, but there are other documents, too. A lease for an apartment in Hampton, with Jason’s alias on it.
“What is this? When did he get this?”
He stays quiet, looking grim and pitiful. Why does he look pitiful?
I read on, registering what I missed on my first perusal. The address is the same street that Easton is on.
“Oh, God,” I whisper. “He…he was watching you.”
“ Us . I think he was watching us ,” he says sympathetically.
Disgust erupts inside me. I thought it was odd how Jason suggested that maybe not telling Easton about him was the better choice. Did he fucking plan to whisk me off to Brazil, where we’d live off Easton’s money? My body is shaking violently on the verge of vomiting, but I’m too angry to stop my discovery. I fan to the next paper, and it just fills me with more questions.
“Why would he have life insurance on me? I never even agreed to go with him.”
“It was dated eight months ago,” Easton explains and then turns an unsettling look on me that’s full of pity. “You need to have it for a year before it’s payable.”
Payable… Payable, as in… if I died . Except, a part of me knows it’s more likely for when I died.
My grip goes slack and the documents flutter to the floor. A gurgle of bile burns my throat, choking me. My body convulses so hard that I stagger back. It feels like I have no control over my functions.
“Oh, God,” I garble, a wave of tears springing to my eyes. “I’m sorry! I…this is all my fault.”
“No,” he chokes out, inching forward. “It’s my fault. I could have protected you.”
‘ Protected me? ’ What is he talking about? How could he have known? “He broke into your building and stole your money!”
Shaking his head, his eyes are red and glossy. His lower lip trembles, and he sputters, “He…could have killed you,” he whispers.
I’m aware of that horrifying fact. It’s why I don’t understand the pity he’s exhibiting for me when I’ve brought nothing but grief to his door until he drops to his knees in front of me. His hands cling to my hips, and his head falls forward against my stomach. A heartbreaking sob pierces the room.
“The things I said…You could have gone with him and…and he would have killed you! All because I was scared and hurt,” he croaks. “I know I ruined everything, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’d have fucking died if he’d done anything to you.”
The unsettling sensation from Jason’s apparent motives crumbles and falls away. It’s replaced with gratitude, so much gratitude it brings me to my knees and the man pouring his agony out at my feet.
“It’s over,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him. “It’s over now. I’m fine. We’re fine.”
Squeezing me tight, his head rattles back and forth. “It’s not,” he weeps. “My father killed your husband .” Swiping underneath his nose, his eye color appears electric behind his tears. “And the fucked-up thing is that I’m glad he did because if he hadn’t, you’d have ended up dead. I’d have lost you either way. I didn’t…I didn’t protect you. I fucking closed up, just like you say I do, and I could have stopped it all.”
How can he think that? Gripping his shoulders, I give them a squeeze. “It wasn’t your job to save me.”
His head shakes adamantly. “No. I should have.”
Cupping his face, I can’t get him to look at me. What I can do, though, is pepper kisses over his tears for loving me so deeply.
“And that’s just one reason why I love you so much,” I whisper against his lips.
“How…how can you love me?”
“Easily, and whenever you let me.”
“But I…I’ve been complete shit to you,” he babbles, shaking his head again. “First, when you found me, and then when I was out of my mind when Jason turned up, and again over the robbery. The things I said…” Grimacing, he rubs the fabric of my sweater anxiously in between his fingers. “I knew it wasn’t you. I knew it , but I still said it.” He looks so lost, it’s breaking my heart to see him torturing himself like this. “I’m no good,” he rasps. “It’s in my fucking DNA. I never will be. I’m…broken.”
My God, is that what he thinks? What human being could go through the unknowns we have over the past week without doubts?
“No. You’re not,” I insist, making sure to look him in the eye as I say it.
Exhaling, his shoulders sag. He hangs his head like my words freed him of some of the weight. I’ve never witnessed anyone rely so hard on my approval. I didn’t know it was possible to love as fiercely as he does.
“What are you going to do now?” he asks, sounding a little calmer.
There are a million things to do, but there’s only one thing that I want to do right now. “Go to bed,” I reply. “I’m exhausted.”
Nodding, he rises to his feet and swipes at his tears. “I’ll leave you be.”
He’s still not looking at me, his head hung like a scolded child. He turns like he’s going to head to the door. It’s astounding. Not a word I said has sunk in. Grabbing a hold of his arm, I stop him.
“I’m going to go to bed,” I say again, but add with emphasis, “whichever of ours you’re planning on sleeping in.”
Lips parting, his gaze scans my face. How could I end up with one man who cared about nothing but himself and another who would walk through fire for me?
Taking his hand, I bring his knuckles to my lips and give them a kiss. “And I’ll do the same thing tomorrow,” I whisper. “And again the day after that, and for all the ones after that, until you can’t stand me anymore.”
His tears spill over his eyes. Shaking his head in disbelief, he lets out a ragged breath. God, I can’t take it anymore.
Stepping forward, I pull him into my arms and murmur against his hair. “Sometimes being broken just means you’re missing your other piece. I don’t fit anywhere better than with you, Easton. I don’t care how tattered our edges are.”
The sob that racks out of him reverberates against my chest. Sputtering, he clenches me in an embrace that I can tell is as strong as the love he has in his heart for me. He was wrong. I am protected. I wouldn’t have gotten through this without a love like his.