Chapter 16
LIBBY
Mom
Dad and I are planning a trip out to Denver. When’s a good time for you?
Libby
Mom, I haven’t even left yet.
Literally sitting on the plane, waiting for it to take off.
Still in Houston.
Mom
I want to come see Ellie too.
Libby
Sure…
Mom
I miss my grandchildren.
Libby
You’re checking up on me
Mom
Is there a reason you don’t want me to?
I can picture the exact innocent look on her face as though she’s saying it to me. She told me after Jordan came over for family dinner that she’d run a background check on Jordan. I’d snorted with laughter. I wasn’t worried.
Caleb probably gave her the report he’d already run for me. Ever since Caleb helped the Bennet family with my situation with Grayson, he’s been the go-to for us for sneaky IT stuff. We trust him implicitly.
I sigh and reply with an eye-roll emoji, then pocket my phone. She means well. She’s worried about her daughter. She’s the only one I’ll give a pass to for still seeing that seventeen-year-old girl who ran into her arms when Ellie brought me home after Grayson kidnapped me. And I guess my dad too.
“What’s up?” Jordan asks, leaning toward me across the armrest of our plane seats and letting our heads almost touch.
He’s been like that since we had dinner with my family—showing physical affection in public like we’ve discussed but touching me a lot less.
Except for basic hand-holding, all of his touches are brushes.
Not-quite-contact made to appear intimate, but keeping himself back.
My parents likely scared him. And he admitted that it felt heavy lying to so many people, especially to Cordelia and Janelle because they accepted him so easily. I thought I was going to melt when he told me that. Jordan Atkinson seems so perfect.
I can’t decide whether to be relieved or frustrated with this PDA change.
It’s nice not to have to push back the wanting when Jordan kisses me or rests a warm hand on my back.
My natural inclination is to lean into him, to deepen the kisses, to hold him to me, and walking the line between stopping myself from falling for him and keeping up our charade is hard.
But someone’s going to notice how little we touch. My mom, for one, next time she sees us. She knows me well and she’s spent the last decade watching me like a hawk, like she thinks I might disappear again. I don’t blame her at all, but it means she’s attuned to me on a level no one else is.
Until Jordan.
“Libby?” He pulls away to stare at me and furrow his eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”
I wave him off. “I’m sorry. I got lost in thoughts. It’s just my mom.”
He tenses, and I realize I notice because he’s put an arm around me. He also notices, because he pulls it back slowly—not like he’s been caught. Not good for the act—and then kisses the air around my cheek. You’d have to be looking very closely to notice he didn’t touch me with his lips.
My mom would notice. I need to tell him that around her he has to stop with the almost stuff.
“She can’t believe we kept our relationship a secret for six months,” I say. “But apparently, she’s also not doubting me.” I shrug. “She’s already planning a visit to Denver, though.”
“She’s a smart one.” Jordan chuckles, but there’s a thread of uneasiness to it.
“Brilliant,” I agree. “She’ll probably figure us out. Hopefully she’ll keep her mouth shut.” Jordan’s eyebrows jump, and I laugh. “My mom is fiercely loyal to her children. We don’t need to worry.”
“But if she figures us out…”
I reach over and take his hand. “She’ll understand my reasons.”
“Then why didn’t we tell her the truth?” His expression is a little desperate, like he wants to call her up right now and confess.
“Because she’d have to tell my dad. They don’t keep secrets from each other. And you know what he would do. I can’t have him interfering. I want to do this on my own.”
“Well, with your husband,” he says dryly.
“It’s different,” I insist, pulling my hand back. “It was still my decision to solve it this way, without their protection.”
He must feel bad, because he takes me into his arms for a real hug—I guess because that can be friendly.
“I know.” He leans his head on mine for a brief second and then pulls it right back up.
I try not to tense in frustration. It felt good to have him close, but I shouldn’t want that.
His new strategy for us is for the best in the long run.
“So, what’s going on with Redhaven?” I ask as he pulls his iPad out from the pocket on the seat in front of him. “Everything still going smoothly disbursing the funds?”
“Yeah. That’s all going great.” He sets it in his lap and turns to me.
“But we got some new applications the past couple weeks. None of them can provide proper documentation of having been scammed by Bryce. In fact, several of them claim they gave him cash—all under ten thousand dollars. I don’t think they’re legit, but Baylee needs to be reassured.
She wants to make sure we take care of everyone. ”
I put my hand on his arm. “Write the checks, Jordan. I’ll cover it if it will make Baylee feel better.”
He shakes his head. “No way. It will mean everyone connected with Bryce in the past will come forward, wanting you to pay their claim. We’re not doing that.”
“Jordan—”
He gives me a hard look. “No, Libby. On this one thing I’m putting my foot down. Ten million was enough.”
I give him a hard look back. In this sitting position, I can’t put my hands on my hips like I want to. “Do you know how much money a billion dollars is?”
His jaw remains tight. “No. I don’t care. Use it to solve homelessness and then we’ll talk about this.”
I give a long-suffering sigh. “Then what are you doing?”
“Trying to prove that Bryce did take money from them—or that he didn’t. One way or the other.” He wakes up the tablet.
“The applications have the amounts, right? The figures for how much each one has claimed he took from them?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” He taps open a spreadsheet and shows me the numbers.
“Can you compare that with Bryce’s accounts?” I ask, wanting to be able to help him. He’s done so much for me. “Wouldn’t there be deposits listed that you could match up to the times they claim they gave him money?”
“Probably,” he says, but his expression doesn’t say this is actually helpful. “The FBI hasn’t shown me or Baylee any of that stuff.”
Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Heat dumps into my face at how ridiculous it sounds, me suggesting that Jordan can just glance over the forensic accounting reports of Bryce’s frozen accounts—frozen too late, by the way.
Bryce had already drained the accounts and disappeared when everything started coming to light.
Have I read every news report possible about the Bryce Hayes case since meeting Jordan? Yes, I have.
“I assumed that Baylee would have access to his account,” I say weakly.
“It’s a good idea.” He gives me a genuine smile.
“But Baylee never had access to his account even when they were engaged. Bryce kept telling her that legally, they needed to wait until after the wedding before he gave her passwords and stuff for banking accounts. And I think everything went into his business account anyway.”
“He sounds amazing, by the way,” I say dryly.
Jordan gives a short, breathy laugh. “Honestly, he seemed like it. He was nice, helpful, kind. He treated Baylee like a princess and seemed to be all green flags. Respected her, respected my family. He was so normal. It was just … all lies.”
Something heavy settles in my stomach. Jordan could be describing himself.
He seems so perfect too. And while I truly believe he’s not going to steal my money and run off, it could be something else.
Men lie. They tell women they love them.
They manipulate them. They get angry. In the time we’ve lived together, I’ve never seen him get actually angry.
Not even while watching hockey. Frustrated, sure, but not angry.
It’s only been just over two weeks since we got married, so he could still be hiding something for sure.
I don’t want to believe that.
It’s just hard to convince myself he could be that good.
I always remind myself that there are men in my life who are exactly who they say they are.
My brothers-in-law, Will and Charlie, are amazing husbands and fathers.
My dad is the greatest. It’s a truth I know in my gut that they’ll never betray me.
I trust that they might hurt me because of mistakes, but never out of malice.
Jordan could be that way too.
“Libby?” Jordan asks in a soft voice, like he knows exactly what’s running through my mind.
“I know a guy,” I say instead. “A guy who could probably get access to Bryce’s accounts for you to look at and verify this stuff.”
Jordan studies me for a moment. He wants to ask more, and not about Caleb. I can see it in his eyes. But like the gentleman he is—seems?—he lets it go.
“You know a guy?” he repeats.
My shoulders fall in relief that he isn’t pressing me to confide in him. He’s my husband. I know it’s fake, but considering the situation we’re in, I still need to trust him. I just can’t. Not fully. And he’s letting me get away with not telling him things I should.
“Caleb Gallagher,” I say. “The one I mentioned could do backdated social media stuff for us.” I explain how he’s helped my family over the years.
I don’t talk about what he did to help my family find me and Grayson—it’s just not a topic I want to get into on the plane—but Jordan gets the gist of it.
“You think he could hack the FBI and get me Bryce’s records?” Jordan’s voice dips low with disbelief.
“Oh, definitely. But he’s been consulting with the FBI for years. What I really think he could do is call in a favor and get you the records to look at—legally.”
“The hacking sounds exciting.” Jordan grins.
I give a shrug, as though that wouldn’t be a big deal. It definitely hasn’t been for him before. But with his connections these days, Caleb takes the legal route more often than not. “We could ask him to hack the FBI if you really want to.”
“Better keep it above board.” Jordan hangs his head as though this is incredibly disappointing, and I can’t help laughing at him. Then his expression sobers. “You don’t have to do this for me or ask Caleb to burn a favor. There are other ways we could figure it out.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Since you won’t let me pay these people, let me at least talk to Caleb and see what he can do. It’s not like it’s going to be instant anyway, so you can work on it from your end while you wait.”
“Okay. Fine,” Jordan agrees. “Make sure Caleb knows it’s okay if he can’t pull this off.”
“‘Can’t pull it off’ isn’t in Caleb Gallagher’s vocabulary at all.”
We settle into silence for a little bit while Jordan taps on his iPad and makes notes in various documents.
“By the way,” I say offhandedly after several minutes go by. “Ellie insisted that they’re going to pick us up at the airport.”
“That’s nice of her,” Jordan says slowly, setting down his iPad to squint at me. I scoff. His eyebrows go up.
“You think my parents were tough?” I say. “They’re going to seem like a stupid sports reporter asking the obvious questions in a press conference compared to Ellie.”
The blood drains from his face. “I feel compelled to remind you that you only had to attend one dinner with my family, who were generally accepting, if not somewhat surprised, of our marriage. And my mom loves you.”
“You’ll be fine,” I say, patting his arm reassuringly. “You’ve played pro hockey. I’ve seen some of those fights. You’re prepared.”
Jordan drops his head back against the headrest of the seat. “Tell Ellie I’m insisting on a private car with you because we’ve been cooped on a plane for almost three hours and I can’t keep my hands to myself any longer.”
I clap a hand over my mouth to stop a snort of laughter. “Jordan Atkinson,” I say in a faux-scolding voice. “She’ll say we should’ve taken the private jet.”
“We really should have if we could have avoided this.” He sighs in defeat.
I giggle some more and lean my head against his shoulder. I shouldn’t. I like it too much, snuggling up to him like this. It feels warm and comforting, and I want to believe in it.
So I do, just for a minute.