Chapter Eight JACKIE
Chapter Eight
JACKIE
“You look like I’m taking you to a maximum security prison.”
Carter’s attempts at conversation during the flight were met with minimal effort on my part. But as we leave the private airport behind and take the coastal road toward Silver Lake Falls, I realize I can’t carry my petulance all the way to Eliza’s doorstep.
Still, I can’t resist one last shot. “We have guards, and restrictions on where I can go. The orange jumpsuit is the only thing missing.”
He lets out a quick sound of dismissal. “I’m not locking you in the guest room.” Then he tries a softer approach, in an attempt to placate me. “The town’s safe. You can go out whenever you want. You’ll love it. You’ll see.”
I cross my arms and stare out the window as the small town comes into view in the distance, colorful houses scattered along the waterline, and clustered around a small harbor where boats bob lazily, masts catching the light.
“I told Quinn you’re coming,” Carter adds. “She’s got a basket of fresh pastries for you.”
That woman sells magic by the pound. In New York, there’d be a line around the block just to get a taste of her baked goods.
“Thank God for butter and sugar,” I mutter. “Otherwise, you’d have to sedate me.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
I turn toward him, sighing in defeat at the wide grin on his face. “You’re lucky I love your fiancée.”
The road curves gently, folding us into the forest on a narrow road, pines and birch crowding close, their deep green pressing on both sides of the car.
When the gates to Carter and Eliza’s lakefront home slide open, that familiar sensation settles over me.
Like stepping into a bubble, one the rest of the world can’t quite pierce.
Everything always feels suspended here. Every time I visit, I get the eerie sense I’ve wandered into one of those small-town rom-coms I binge with Lilly.
Eliza’s already outside waving at us, the June sun turning the lawn behind her impossibly green, the lake bright enough to look unreal.
She rushes us the moment we park. My feet barely touch the gravel before her arms are already around me.
“I was so worried,” she says breathlessly into my hair, crushing me into her. “But it’s OK now. Everything will be fine. We’ll have the best time.”
“Kitten,” Carter says gently from the other side of the car, laughing. “I think she needs to be able to breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” Eliza steps back, hands still clasping mine. “Come on. I made some tea.”
The light breeze lifts the loose strands around my cheeks. I squeeze her hands. “I hope you’re ready to get sick of me,” I tell her honestly. “Because I don’t know how long this is going to take.”
Her answering laugh melts away some of the resentment simmering beneath my ribs. “Perhaps living so close to nature will change your mind about the outdoors.” Her warm brown eyes brighten. “Maybe we’ll even go camping.”
“If you suggest that again,” I grimace, “I’ll take it as my cue to pack and head back to New York. Threats or not.”
Inside, light pours in through the wide ground-floor windows, making the open space warm and homely.
The muffled echo of our footsteps on the hardwood doesn’t disturb the tranquility.
Every detail of this house bears Eliza’s touch, weeks of careful work, long before she knew it would become the home she’d share with Carter.
I’ll never forget her face at the housewarming party, when the realization finally dawned on her. Carter had taken a massive gamble with that risky move.
But as I glance back and watch them holding on to each other, whispering how much they missed one another… it’s clear it paid off.
“I’ll be upstairs unpacking,” I toss over my shoulder as I climb the stairs, not bothering to wait for a reply. Their mouths are too busy for that.
From the guest room window, the backyard stretches wide, with large trees framing the property, their reflections rippling across the crystal-clear water.
A long dock reaches toward the center of the lake, ending in a boathouse weathered just enough to know it’s been here since the house was built.
Unlike the new barn Carter built for Eliza’s restoration projects.
It feels like a place where nothing bad is allowed to follow you in.
It’s an illusion I’m willing to cling to, if it means surviving the next few weeks here without losing my mind.
I trail my fingers along the white painted wood, my skin catching the ribbons of color cast by the crystal figurines now lining the windowsill.
Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. It would feel like throwing away that bubbly feeling in my chest the morning I woke to find the red elephant nestled on the pillow that still smelled like Adam. Between its tusks, there was a rolled-up note.
Coffee run. Your elephantastic boyfriend. ??
How am I supposed to reconcile that floating, weightless happiness with the leaden reality that it was all built on a lie?
The laptop I set up on the corner table pings. A notification window pops up on the screen. My mental health is safe for now; Robertson has set up a virtual meeting for tomorrow.
At least there are still some things in my life I can count on.
Work has never failed me yet.
“I freaking love this couch,” I mumble into the plush cushion, sprawled out on my belly. Very undignified for the Rawlings heiress, but luckily, there’s no one here to badger me about it.
A week in, and it’s starting to sink in that I’ve been made obsolete.
The PR team handles all communication.
As he kindly explained a few days ago on the video call, Joseph’s got the business side covered. The old fox waited till I was hours away to let me know most of my tasks have been redirected toward him. With Carter’s approval, of course.
Derrick and the FBI are still hammering away at the investigation.
Everything I fought for, everything I built, swept out from under me in an instant, leaving me to drift in some surreal purgatory.
No plans. No meetings. No to-do list.
It’s like my entire identity was erased with a single decision. That wasn’t even mine.
Basically, I’m getting a crash course in what early retirement looks like.
Not great.
“So you’ve mentioned,” Carter mutters as he passes, heading for the office next to the living room while Eliza keeps playing with my hair, giggling.
“Don’t mind him,” Quinn says with a sly grin, hiding it behind the coffee cup she brought from her shop. Her leg swings lazily off the armrest of the lounge chair. “He’s just irritated you stole his spot.”
My brother and his fiancée are too cute; it makes me question if I actually knew him at all. Living here gives me a front-row seat to their relationship. And Carter’s just… smitten.
Never thought I’d use that word to describe him, but here we are.
My immediate reality is unraveling, so naturally, I do what anyone would in my shoes: fill the growing void with pastries.
I stretch out my arm to grab one of Quinn’s famous crullers off the coffee table, flexing my fingers like a drowning woman reaching for a life float, until she takes pity and slides the plate closer.
“I’d marry you in a heartbeat if you baked me these every morning,” I sigh around a mouthful of doughnut.
The sparky blonde arches a brow, tilting her head as if she’s genuinely considering it. But all my hopes for a lifetime supply of sugary treats crumble when she lets out a throaty laugh.
“Nah. You sound too high maintenance.”
Eliza’s friend has quickly become one of my favorite people. She came as a two-for-one package deal, with zero filter, a wicked sense of humor, and the best desserts on the East Coast.
But there’s something different about her these days. Eliza sees it too, stealing glances when Quinn isn’t looking. It’s in the hard lines on her face, the deep under-eye circles she covers with makeup.
She works hard to act like her usual self, but it’s so obvious it’s a mask. No wonder, after finding out who her boyfriend was. I wish I could do more than keep her under the Rawlings’ protective detail.
Carter’s footsteps return, punctuated by a long, exaggerated sigh. “Are you planning to merge with my couch?”
“It’s not that easy to be entirely cut off,” I say between bites of doughnut.
“Is that so?” he drawls, hovering behind the couch, clearly amused.
“I get it now. You don’t have to rub it in,” I grumble. “Though, to be fair, we forced you to take a break for your own sake.”
Poor Eliza. Taking in two Rawlings strays within the span of a year. Her touch is everywhere in this house, warm and welcoming, and she does her best to make me feel at home. It’s so lovely and cozy, and the view toward the lake and the mountains is breathtaking.
Some days, I actually consider moving here too. Then I remember my love-hate relationship with the outdoors and that I’m a New York girl, through and through.
Carter mimics my voice in a ridiculous impression of what I told him when we sent him to Silver Lake Falls over a year ago. “It will do you good. Just try to relax.”
Eliza does her best to hide her laugh behind a fake cough, but Quinn can’t hold it in and lets out a blatant snort.
I grab a balled-up napkin and hurl it at my brother’s chest. “Oh, shut up. You can’t complain about the outcome.”
He flashes a grin at Eliza. “Sure can’t.”
They’re insufferably in love.
The front door rattles with a knock so loud it startles Eliza and Quinn.
“It’s like the man never heard of a doorbell, I swear to God,” Carter grumbles on his way to open it.
The broad frame of Silver Lake Falls’ sheriff fills the doorway, and Quinn’s stare turns pointed.
“What’s he doing here?” she asks Eliza.
“He’s probably got some news for Carter. I told him I didn’t want to know anything until Hall’s caught.” Eliza chews on her lip, her usual giddiness fading. “Talking about it brings me back to that day. And I can’t…”
I squeeze her hand, still eyeing the sheriff. The guy’s not my type, but even I can appreciate how massive he is. I bet he doesn’t even have to do much on the job. His sheer dark aura and those tatted, muscled arms would probably make the criminals cuff themselves.
Quinn, however, looks less than impressed, her stare laced with suspicion. She stiffens as he steps in, following Carter into the house.
“We’ll take this to the office,” Carter says, leaning over the couch to peck Eliza’s cheek.
Quinn immediately jumps up.
“I just remembered I need to help Denis with a big order for tomorrow,” she says, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavers.
She gathers her bag, avoiding looking at anyone. “See you, ladies. Don’t get in any trouble without me.”
She rushes past the two men, focused on the exit, like it might vanish if she blinks.
The sheriff’s gaze lingers for a few seconds, but he stays silent. If that is not the face of a man in pain, I don’t know what is.
I glance at Eliza for an explanation, and she shrugs, but her mouth quirks.
That’s interesting.
With nothing else to occupy my time, I might end up digging around for that story while I’m here.
“Want to come with me to check out a site?” Eliza changes the subject. “It’s only forty minutes away.”
She must’ve noticed how adrift I am. She’s always in tune with everybody’s needs. I also love how confident she is in her work now, so willing to show me her projects.
My phone buzzes on the table.
“Sounds great. Let me get this first.”
I snatch it up and head to my room, stepping out onto the balcony.
“How close are you to running away in the middle of the night?” Michelle’s amused voice fills my ear. God, I miss our morning coffee breaks.
“Not packing my bags yet. It’s like one of those retreats you kept bugging me about. Also,” I say, rubbing some leftover sugar from my fingertips, “I’m being bribed with crullers.”
“Lucky you,” she chuckles. “Let me know if you need anything. I can drop by anytime.”
Sweet Michelle. Always looking after me.
“I’ve got something that might brighten your day,” she continues, a hint of drama in her voice.
The cool morning air wraps around me with a pleasant chill, and I shiver. “Let’s hear it.”
“Your friend, Diane Cox? Turns out she’s been very naughty. Radu sent me the file five minutes ago.”
My palm connects with the flat surface of the wooden banister with a snap. “I knew it.”
“Remember that she also teaches a journalism class?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“For the past four years, she’s been publishing the students’ articles under her own name. Without pay. And she threatens to fail them if they say anything.”
“Oh, the hypocrite—”
“That’s not all. She’s got an investment portfolio. Guess what stocks she owns?”
“No way,” I laugh.
“Yep. About a hundred grand in UniCore shares.”
“Unbiased, my ass.”
“And,” Michelle pauses dramatically, “she’s having an affair with her broker.”
A slow smile blooms on my face. “You’ve just turned my day around.”
Bubbles of excitement fizz in my stomach.
“You know who to send this to. I want this info trickled out slowly over the next couple of weeks.”
I grip the railing with both hands and take a long breath.
Apparently, I can still pull some strings from the middle of nowhere.
That makes me feel a bit… better. Normal.
The clear sky is mirrored in the placid lake, and everything is still, except the rustling trees, swaying lightly in the crisp fresh air, and the occasional bird diving for food.
Which is why Carter’s voice carries clearly from the front door.
He’s talking to somebody, and I assume it’s the sheriff until the other person responds.
It’s a voice I know all too well.
One I could recognize in my sleep. Mainly because I’ve been dreaming about him with worrying frequency since we last saw each other.
He can’t be here.