31. Emory
31
EMORY
Watching Nate on an important phone call is like watching a royal British guard standing in front of Kensington Palace. He gives nothing away, merely throwing out an “hmm” every once in a while. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t clarify anything. What the fuck?
I should've called the precinct myself, but Nate's more familiar with legal matters from his job. He's always dealing with some sort of legal issue at the company. I pace around my living room, glancing at Nate every few steps, hoping he'll give me some clue about what's happening.
“Thank you,” he finally says, ending the call and walking over to me.
“He’s being charged with aggravated assault. Bail has been set at fifty grand. Because it’s a felony charge, they’re transferring him to county tonight. He will have to stay there until the trial unless he makes bail.”
My head spins from all the words Nate just threw at me. Aggravated assault? Felony? Fifty fucking thousand dollars. I don’t have that kind of money. Neither does Nate. Not liquid anyway. Like me, he insisted he didn’t want any special treatment from our father, so when he joined Caldwell Security, Dad started him off on a pretty meager salary. He makes more now, but he has a mortgage and bills. He can’t swing fifty thousand.
Damn our pride.
We also both turned down the trust funds Dad had set up for us when we turned twenty-four. As long as Gram was taken care of and I had a roof over my head, I didn’t want his hush money. Now I’m regretting it.
It doesn’t matter, though. Even if Luke makes bail, if he’s convicted of a felony, he’ll be sentenced to years in prison. My stomach rolls, and I feel like retching. I have to be strong. Luke needs me to be strong.
“Was it because of last night?” I ask Nate. We haven't had a chance to talk about everything yet. The car ride home from Gram's was silent, like the ride there. As soon as we got to my house, he called the police station.
“No. I would have gotten arrested too,” Nate says.
“That’s true. Maybe something happened the other night at the bar? He was with me all last night after the gazebo…” I don’t miss the way Nate’s eyes flash with anger at my confession, but I choose to ignore it. “What else did they say?”
“Nothing. They wouldn’t tell me who pressed charges.”
“But you talked to him,” I urge.
“Yes.”
“So what did he say?”
“Not much, obviously.”
“God, Nate. Can you just give me one fucking straight answer? Did you even try to get more information from whoever you spoke to?”
“Emory, I’m trying not to lose my shit here, but I've only had twenty-four hours to wrap my head around my best friend doing God knows what with my little sister.”
So, this is it. This is what he wants. He wants to have this out right here, right now? Fine by me.
I’m about to let Nate have it when I see Allie walk by in her pajamas out of the corner of my eye. She sees my face and immediately starts backing up out of the room.
“Oh, no. You don’t get to walk away right now.”
“Emory…”
“Sit the fuck down, Allie.”
She scurries over to the couch and sits next to Nate. I stand in front of them like they’re my kids and I’m about to scold them for staying out too late.
“I am dating Luke Collins. He’s my boyfriend. If either of you has an issue with that, tell me right now. Otherwise, you both need to grow the fuck up and help me get him out of this mess. I can’t have you guys trying to protect me or run shit behind my back. We’re in this together, or I do it alone. Understood?”
Allie and Nate exchange glances in silence. Nate goes to say something but thinks better of it and shuts his mouth.
“I’ve never had a problem with you and Luke being together,” Allie says defensively. “Why am I getting lumped in with Nate?”
“Because you have a history of getting involved in my relationships and a habit of going behind my back.”
She hangs her head. Got ya there, sweetheart.
“Nate,” I snap, and his eyes flick up to me. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it must have to do with Jaxon. Who else would he possibly assault? Unless it’s a misunderstanding…”
He's right. He was with me all night, but I was asleep for most of it. He must have left in the middle of the night and beat the shit out of Jaxon. But how did he manage to get to him? How would he even know where to find him? Then it hits me. I remember setting my phone down on the nightstand last night, but I was too tired to plug it in. This morning, when I went to grab it to text about getting coverage, it was plugged in.
Luke plugged it in.
After he went through my phone…
My heart sinks.
I rush to pull out my phone and scroll down to find my conversation with Jaxon, but it’s gone. I scroll through all my text threads over and over, but it’s not there.
He deleted it.
I hear a buzzing sound, and Nate holds his phone up.
“I need to take this. Permission to stand?” he asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
I nod my head, and he strides out of the room to take the call. Allie looks like she wants to say something, but for once in her life, she keeps her mouth shut.
Nate comes back in and breathes out a long sigh.
“What?”
“It was Jaxon. He recorded some of the altercation on his phone. Not video, but…there’s audio of Luke threatening to kill him if he goes near you.”
“How—how do you know?”
“I have contacts.” I roll my eyes as he continues. “With the recording and Jaxon’s injuries, Luke might be facing some serious time.”
“What injuries?”
“Jaxon was treated at Emberfield Memorial last night for a busted nose and two broken ribs.”
Shit. My stomach churns. I’m going to be sick. I sprint to the bathroom, but instead of vomiting, I drop to my knees beside the toilet and burst into tears. They stream down my face, the salty liquid landing on my lips.
He stood up for me. But at what cost?
My phone buzzes. Hope soars in my chest that it’s good news, but it deflates when I see it’s just Ashton.
Ashton: Hey, partner in crime. Wanted to make sure you are okay after everything that went down last night. You know I’m always here if you need anything. Just say the word.
His words should warm my heart, but for some reason, they make me angrier. Why couldn’t I fall for a nice guy like Ash? He didn’t assault anyone or push me to bare my soul. He’s there for me and asks what I need, instead of going behind my back. I respond, thanking him and promising to call him soon.
I feel like I’m suffocating. In this bathroom. In this house. I have to get out. I push myself up off my knees and grab my phone before Nate or Allie have a chance to stop me. I run to my car and pull out of the driveway. Before I know it, I’m pulling up to the gate at my dad’s estate. I press the button on the intercom.
“It’s Emory,” I say before the voice on the other end even has a chance to ask. “My dad isn’t expecting me, but I don’t need to see him. I just want to get a book from the library.”
“No problem, Ms. Caldwell,” the voice says, and it sounds like Graham, my father’s estate manager. “Go right ahead.”
I drive through the gate as it opens and park in the circular driveway. Looking up at the house, it's hard to believe a huge party was held here last night. The luxury cars and limousines are gone, the lanterns and lights have been removed, and the gardens are back to normal. I glance towards the gazebo, remembering last night. I never hit you. But you still abused me.
Dried tears stain my face, and new ones well up in my eyes, but I hold them back as I climb the stairs. I don't bother ringing doorbell; instead, I use my emergency key to let myself in. Thankfully, Maeve isn't waiting by the door, so I can slip into the library unnoticed. I'm not doing anything wrong, but I don't feel like talking to anyone right now.
I enter the library and my breathing slows down, warmth spreading through my body. My haven . I gaze at the floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves, taking in the rows of differently colored hardcovers. The marble mantel above the fireplace sparkles, looking freshly cleaned, and the pillows on the couches and chaise lounge appear fluffy and inviting. I slip off my shoes, allowing my feet to sink into the plush beige and navy accent rug. As I reach a bookshelf, I run my fingers over the spines and pull one out. The Odyssey . I've never read it, despite having read many classics. Greek mythology just never caught my attention. I slide it back into place and pick out another book. To Kill a Mockingbird . I smile to myself. It's one of my favorites. It's been years since I've been in this library. I wonder if my Twilight collection is still here.
“This was her favorite place,” I hear a deep voice say behind me. I snap my head up and see my dad standing in the doorway.
I blink. “What?”
“Your mother,” he clarifies, walking into the room. “She loved to read. When we designed this house, I knew it would need a library, so I had this built for her. I had it filled with all these little reading nooks and fancy couches, but she only ever read on the windowsill. You were just a baby, but she would prop you up on her lap and read to you too.”
My mouth gapes wide open. How did I not know this? She loved to read. She used to sit in the same spot. She read to me here.
“That’s…that’s where I sit,” I manage to grit out.
“I know,” he says as he reaches a shelf and runs his finger over one of the books.
“You know?”
He nods his head but keeps his eyes plastered to the book in front of him.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I say with a little more venom than I intended.
“I’m working from home today. Graham said you were in here.”
Fucking Graham. I thought I had gotten in undetected.
He picks up the book he had his finger on and starts flipping through the pages. “Emory…I.” He continues flipping absentmindedly, but then he stops and looks up at me. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you kids.”
Well, that’s the understatement of the damn century.
“When she died…” he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. “I was lost. She was the other half of me. I didn’t know how to do this without her. Your grandmother offered to take you guys, and I thought you both had a better chance with her.”
My eyes roam over him, taking in the subtle grays scattered through his black hair and the slight wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. Apart from those, he’s a carbon copy of Nate.
“You look so much like her,” he continues. “When you first came to live with me again, I saw you reading on the windowsill and…it just hurt so much, Emory.”
“It hurt to see me?” I force myself to swallow down the lump forming in my throat.
“It hurt to see you without her. She should have still been sitting with you on that windowsill. She should have been here to read with you, and laugh with you, and take you dress shopping for school dances.”
“I didn’t go to the dances,” I whisper. “Nate didn’t?—”
“I know,” he says quietly. “He did the best he could, but I let too much fall on him. He was too young.”
Suddenly, all of the emotions I’ve felt for the last twenty-four years catch up to me. I’m fucking pissed. How dare he sit here and tell me about my mom now. After all this time. After he abandoned us.
“I needed you,” I snap. “I needed you when Mom died. When Opa died. When Gram went away. I needed you, and you weren’t there. You were never fucking there.”
“I know,” he says again, and to his credit, he looks genuinely remorseful. But I don’t feel bad. It’s too little, too late.
“Why now?” I ask. “Why are you telling me all this now?”
He closes the book and puts it back in its place, glancing over at me. “Nate called. He told me everything.”
I blow out a breath. What does he mean by everything ?
Is that what this is about? He’s going to chide me for being so foolish? For getting involved with Jaxon to begin with, and then for dating Nate’s friend…
A hint of a smile crosses his lips.
“You love him,” he says without elaboration.
My eyes dart up. It’s a statement, not a question. How does he know?
Fucking Nate.
I can't bring myself to say the words because I'm not even sure what they mean to me right now. But at the same time, I don't want to lie, so I just nod.
“And Jaxon…”
“Was a mistake,” I finish for him. “I was naive. I didn’t know any better. He was cruel, Dad.”
His brows furrow, and regret flashes in his eyes. “That was my fault.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe it was Nate’s fault. Maybe it was mine. I could have taken more control over my own life. It doesn’t really matter now. It happened, and there’s no going back.”
“I…I brought him here,” he says, the regret now fully overtaking his features. “I left you alone with him.”
“Yeah.”
“And…he deserved it? What Luke did?”
“Yes.”
He holds my gaze for a few moments before walking toward another bookshelf. Then he spins around. “I want to make this right, Emory. You’re right. I wasn’t there for you. I just—I want to fix this for you.”
This is the longest conversation I've ever had with my dad. If someone had told me this would happen today, I would've laughed till my stomach was sore. My dad wants to help me? Maybe it's years of pent-up guilt, or maybe he really cares about me. Helping me get Luke out of jail won't make up for a lifetime of neglect, but it's a start.
“Okay,” I say, my voice laced with doubt. “How?”
“I’m willing to post his bail, but I think we should focus on getting Jaxon to drop the charges. Bail will be irrelevant if we can do that.”
“Why the fuck would he drop the charges?”
He gives me a stern look, but he knows better than to comment on my language right now. “Last night," he says, walking closer to me, “I saw Marshall Astor rushing down the stairs, clearly angry. His knuckles were bruised."
“Okay?”
“Long story short, Marshall walked in on his wife cheating on him in an upstairs bedroom. I don’t know if it was a one-time thing or had been going on for a while, but he punched the guy in the face. Emory, Marshall is a very influential man, not just in Emberfield, but with connections all the way to New York and even California…”
California. It all makes sense now. Jaxon’s bruise last night when he came to see me in the gazebo. His “misunderstanding.” He’s been having an affair with Victoria Astor? She’s old enough to be his mother. Allie is going to have a field day psychoanalyzing that one. I’m not surprised, though. Of course, he would be trying to get me back while he’s fucking someone else.
“Jaxon?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
Dad nods. “Marshall wants to keep this quiet, obviously. But he also wants Jaxon punished. He wants to tell his father and let him deal with him accordingly. But…”
“What?”
“I always dig into the background of all our potential clients. First and foremost, I have to protect myself and the company, so we can effectively protect others. I can’t take on clients who have major skeletons in their closets. When I looked into Jaxon and his father’s company…Let’s just say Barrett Forbes is not a good man.”
My blood runs cold. I never hit you. I’m not my father. I’ll never be like that piece of shit.
“ I told Jaxon that I couldn’t take him on as a client. I assumed that’s why he went back to California. But I get the sense that telling Barrett about Jaxon’s indiscretions would result in more than a slap on the wrist for him. It seems he’s already on thin ice with his father, so I wanted to get the whole story first.”
Barrett Forbes. The fading bruises when I saw Jaxon weeks ago. The drugs. It all makes sense now.
“I was able to convince Marshall to hold off for a day,” my dad continues. “But…he’s not going to let it go easily.”
“Aren’t you good friends with him?” I think I remember hearing once that they played basketball together in high school or something.
“Good enough,” he replies. “Honestly, it’s hypocritical as hell. Everyone knows he’s been running around on his wife for years. What I’m saying is…we have leverage over Jaxon.”
My stomach dips, the familiar wave of nausea hitting me all over again. I can try to get Jaxon to drop the charges by telling him we can get Marshall to back down, but it would be blackmail. Or coercion, at the very least. How would that make me any better than him? I walk over to one of the couches and collapse, so tired of having to make difficult decisions.
“I know what you’re thinking, Emory,” my dad says as he walks over and takes the seat next to me. “But it’s not blackmail. We won’t threaten to tell Barrett if he doesn’t comply. We’ll let him know we are willing to help him. If he helps us.”
“Quid pro quo,” I say.
“Exactly.”
“And if we don’t do this?”
“Based on what Nate said, Luke could be looking at years behind bars if he’s convicted. With the doctor’s reports and the recording, it’s likely he will be.”
Regardless of my relationship status with Luke at this very moment, I have to help him. This all happened because of me, and I couldn’t live with myself if I let him go to jail for years because of something I brought into his life. There’s no telling that this will even work. Jaxon might laugh in my face for even daring to play chess with him, but I have to give it a shot. And I won’t let someone else do it on my behalf—it has to be me.
“Okay,” I say slowly, “but I have one condition.”
“You want to talk to Jaxon yourself?” he guesses.
“How did you know?”
“Because you are your mother’s daughter. I know I don’t tell you this enough, but I really am proud of you, Emory. You have her determination. Her fire.”
“Yeah? I wonder what she'd do if she knew you tried to marry me off to random men just to save your company after ignoring me my whole life.”
I know that must sting. He’s trying to make up for lost time, but I deserve to tell him how I feel.
His expression shifts from regret to amusement as he mulls over my accusation. Glad he finds this funny.
“She would have kicked my ass,” he finally says.
I give him a half smile. I’ve always loved my mom. Or what I knew of her. But now I realize I would have really liked her, too.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds. “My parents did the same thing to me, and I resented them for it. Nate and I…you know we have a complicated relationship. I admit there was a part of me that wanted to make sure I had someone who has the company’s best interest at heart for when I’m no longer around. But I also want you to be happy. You just seemed so lonely these past few years, and Ashton is a good guy. I vetted him way before I set up that lunch. I thought he might be good for you. I understand now why you didn’t want to put yourself out there again. And I certainly didn’t go about it the right way. I should not have meddled in your life.”
I bite my lip. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have meddled in my life. Nate has done enough meddling for ten lifetimes.” My tone is clipped, but I soften a little when I see the guilt in my father’s eyes. “But Ashton is pretty cool. He’s become a good friend.”
“I’m glad to hear that. And Emory…” He clears his throat. Either something is stuck in it or he’s holding back tears.
“Yeah?”
“I admit to orchestrating that lunch with Ashton, but I never intended to set you up with Jaxon. He really was there to discuss business. It was bad timing on my part, and I apologize. I didn’t know, but…I’m so sorry.”
I nod. “I know.” It’s all I’m willing to say right now. I have no doubt I will forgive my father in time, but it will take just that—time.
Then something hits me.
“Does Nate know? About Marshall?”
“No. After he told me everything, I figured I should come to you with it first.”
“Thank you,” I say, and for the first time during this conversation, the ice between us begins to thaw. I don’t know why, but of all my father’s words and actions today, that one means the most to me. He came to me first . For once, my opinion was more important than Nate’s.
“Of course,” he stands, rolling up his sleeves as if he is getting ready to go into battle. “You can meet with him yourself, but we need to take some precautions. I know he’s never…physically hurt you.” It takes everything in him to even get the words out. I guess he does care about me.
“But from what Nate said, he was aggressive with you at the gala. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“That’s fine,” I agree. “But Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Nate does care about the company. You two have more in common than you think. You should give him more freedom.” He nods, and I exhale slowly. “That said, let's keep our plan to ourselves for now.”
Dad gives me a slight smirk because he apparently knows my brother better than I thought. “Fine,” he says. “For now.”
“Okay then,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. “Let’s do this.”