Chapter 44 Leah
Leah
“Let me have a word,” Sam offered, but Leah was already shaking her head.
“Leave it for now.” She forced a smile. “I’ll talk to him in the morning.
It’ll be fine.” The boys tugged her down the steps and wrapped her in a group hug.
Leah let herself cling for a minute, soaking in their friendship.
Then she pushed them away and waved them off.
“Scoot. It’s past my bedtime and I’m beat.
” Leah crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.
The pair exchanged a look. “Call if you need us.” Kash kissed her cheek.
Silence and shadows settled after they’d driven away, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. The calm she’d grown used to had flown on hushed wings, leaving somber unease in its place.
Leah paused outside Jackson’s room, trying to pluck up the courage to knock, but he’d closed the door completely and no light showed beneath it.
She itched to turn the handle and walk in, climb into his bed, and explain that she hadn’t asked for any of this and had no interest in revisiting any kind of relationship with Matt.
The thought of it made her skin crawl. Five years she’d spent with him, at the housing center and then in their shared apartment, and yet Leah had never felt a tenth of the closeness she’d built with Jackson in a few short months.
Memories punched her in the throat. Times when she’d begged to be allowed to stay in foster homes or remain with families who’d been kind.
It had never once worked; she’d been forever on the outside.
Never someone who was chosen for the long haul.
Moved on by circumstances beyond her control. Always abandoned.
Eventually, Leah dragged her feet along the landing to her own room and spent the night staring at the ceiling, a hole in her chest where the warmth had leaked out.
She didn’t sleep well. The sheets were too heavy, her thoughts too busy.
The corners, shadows, and scent of her bedroom so much less restful than usual and she craved Jackson’s breath in the dark.
The moment she woke from restless dozing, a lead weight resettled in her stomach. Wandering downstairs, she was nonplussed to find Jackson’s laptop on the dining table and his car still in the drive. She’d expected him to have gone.
A thorough search revealed he wasn’t in the house. Venturing outside, she followed some clattering and banging to the outbuilding next to the log store.
Leah could tell he’d been out there for some time already.
Various broken tools, outdoor furniture, wire, and rubble were heaped on the ground.
Jackson appeared in the rickety doorway, an ancient bicycle frame gripped in one hand.
He shot Leah a shuttered glance and slung the rusting metal onto the growing trash pile.
She held out the coffee she’d made him, every word in her brain turning to slush when she needed them most.
“Thanks.” Part hum, part grunt. In no way was Jackson using proper words either, so maybe it wasn’t just her.
Time to try harder. “Jax—”
“Getting all this shit stripped out and thrown away. I’ll have it picked up this week.” His chin-lift indicated the trash as he took a quick gulp of coffee. “Same with the house. Anything that isn’t needed can go.”
Leah couldn’t hide her wince. “Jax—”
“I’m listing Amity Court.” Jackson studied her from his great height; there was nothing to read on his face. “I need to get it off my hands now.”
It wasn’t a surprise. They’d discussed how badly he needed to sell. Leah pushed down the swoop of panic, swallowed against the helplessness. “OK. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“You can start looking for somewhere else to live.” His cold blue eyes were merciless. The arctic blast could have stripped her bones.
“Jackson, I—”
“You need to move on. I’ve enjoyed the distraction these last few weeks but I have to get my head back in the game.”
“That’s not all it was. You know it wasn’t!” The dismissal of what they’d shared cut like the devil’s rope. “You’re being an ass because of Matt.”
His nostrils flared, at odds with the boredom on his face.
“I’m always an ass, Leah. And you need to have some pride.
If I wanted you to stay, I’d ask. If I wanted an actual relationship with you, I’d ask for that, too.
Let’s both agree we’ve gotten out of it what we needed and call it quits while we’re ahead. ”
Each word burned, even as Leah squared her shoulders to try one last time. “Can I just tell you—”
“And don’t worry about coming to the silent auction.
” Jackson’s smile was a twisted imitation of the one that made her heart thrum like a frame drum.
“Much as I’d like to see Leah Raven take on a high society event, baggy sweaters, fluffy socks, and all, it’s probably better that you don’t.
I’m sure even Esther was joking with that request.” He drained his coffee and thrust the empty mug toward her.
“I need to head home later, so I’ve got to get on. ”
As he turned away, she forced herself to speak. “That’s why you asked me, was it? So you could watch me crash and burn among your friends and colleagues.” She was proud the words were disdainful, not broken.
His hand stilled on the rickety wooden door but he didn’t turn.
Leah eyed the discarded bicycle frame with empathy and considered settling down among the trash, laying her head on her knees and letting the tears flow.
Instead, she drew on the years of rejection and disappointment, blinked away any moisture, and lifted her chin.
“Maybe the real issue is less that I wouldn’t fit in and more that neither do you. Have you considered that?”
Heading for the house, Leah swore to herself there would be no more trying to explain. She did have some pride, whatever Jackson might think. She’d hammer it into shape and use it as a shield. To hell with him, his family, their business, and their stupid skewed priorities. She was fine on her own.
Except it turned out, she wasn’t.
She’d been lonely before but this loneliness was something else. This was the loneliness that came after finding your best friend and losing them again in the next heartbeat.
Leah bullied herself into a steady rhythm of working and sleeping from Monday to Friday.
Following digital masterclasses, she created fan art for books she loved and posted more designs online, satisfied to see a surge in the number of followers and comments.
She read the next book club book, met Sam for coffee and Florence for lunch.
She immersed herself in Esther’s manuscript, cataloguing and filing the old lady’s notes and sorting through anything in the study she no longer needed.
The cavernous drawers of Esther’s antique desk were filled with piles of random handwritten pages which all needed an eye over them before Leah packed them up or threw them away.
She found old receipts, breezy correspondence, paid bills, and an assortment of old research for Clayborne Knight books.
And half a dozen envelopes addressed to Esther in Hazel’s familiar rounded hand.
One delicate, loose sheet stuck out from the batch. Leah tugged it free, unfolded it carefully and spread it flat on the desk.
My dear Esther,
Are you absolutely sure? One hundred percent?
I have to ask again.
This isn’t like lending a purse or borrowing a book. This is a really big deal. My life choices shouldn’t impact your life choices. And, yes, I know that what we’re talking about wasn’t much of a choice in the first place. But still.
There are other options. I’ve looked into them all and I think . . .
What Hazel thought, Leah was not going to find out.
The second page was missing. Or maybe it was still in one of the envelopes.
She didn’t like to snoop further. Refolding the sheet of paper and tucking it back into the pile, she dragged out the old diary again.
Her throat tight, Leah studied the final entry. And that one final clue—
I had my hair done today so it will look nice for tomorrow.
Curtain bangs and bouncy curls—I feel like a model.
I can’t wait to get this party over and done with.
As long as we can avoid RAB, it’ll be fine.
I know Mother will flip over my outfit but it’s too hot to cover up with a maxi dress.
I’ve gone for something short and cute which shows off my legs. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I say!
The next day, after hours spent rereading the diary from the start, she gave Hazel the letters and quizzed her on the mystery initials.
“Most of the time she called that guy The Creep but in the last entry she wrote RAB. You said his name was Dickie, though. So was she talking about someone else?”
“No, that was him. Dickie was what he went by. It was short for Richard—RAB was his initials.”
“Do you remember his surname?” Leah pushed.
She thought maybe Hazel wouldn’t answer but finally she did.
“Addlestone-Black. His name was Richard Addlestone-Black.” The old lady curled her upper lip as if the name were a spoonful of laundry detergent on her tongue.
Wheels turned in Leah’s brain. Cogs spun and information started to fall into place. Addlestone-Black was a name she’d heard from Jackson. A person? A company? If only she could ask him. It was definitely something relevant, but Hazel was prepared to give out nothing more.
The days dragged on.
The weekdays were bad enough, but when the weekends arrived and Jackson turned up, Leah forgot how to breathe. It was torture. And everything got worse when he moved into Amity Court full-time, working from home most days and commuting into the office when he had to. He didn’t explain why.
The tension ramped up even further.