30. Jackson
Chapter thirty
Jackson
“W hat are you staring at, Peach?” I step between her open legs as she sits perched on the kitchen island.
She slides her hands up my chest and wraps her arms around my neck. “You.”
“See something you like?”
“Debating it.” I grab her thighs and tug her closer. “What’re you doing? We’re gonna be late.”
“I’m your boss. I tell you when you need to be at work.” I slide my hands slide along her hips and grab her perky ass, grinding her into my rising cock.
“It’s barely been two hours.”
“Two hours too long. My cock was made to be inside you.” Her laughter has my dick hardening against my slacks. “If you want to make it to work, I wouldn’t do that,” I warn her.
“Do what?” She smiles at me, and a new sensation stirs to life. Desire rushes straight to my cock, that’s undeniable, but more than that, a rhythmic thrum begins in my chest and turns into a flutter as I take in her sparkling eyes. I lean in, brushing my lips against the corner of her mouth. I want to lose myself in her, claim her lips with a fiery passion, but I stop short. “Who’s the one staring now?” I hold her gaze, savoring the moment. “Do I have something on my face?”
“You’re beautiful.” I let the words slip out without a care for the repercussions. Time is ticking by too fast. Soon, this will end, and she’ll be gone. Tightness grows in my chest, and I refocus on what’s in front of me now. “And I have to fuck you.”
“Whatever you want, boss.”
I jolt awake, shooting forward in my chair. Shit. I must’ve fallen asleep. My eyes dart to Georgia. She’s still unconscious. Noah is sitting in the chair beside her bed, his head lowered. I stand, checking the time. It’s been five hours since they allowed us back into her room. She coded twice—two fucking times she teetered on the edge of death and came back to us.
I check my phone, reading the text that confirms Georgia’s mother is safely en route and should arrive within the next hour or so. The hospital door opens, and Lettie walks in, her red-rimmed eyes telling me she hasn’t slept. Her shoulders slump as she takes in her sister, her sullen face mirroring ours.
“The doctor is making his rounds. He should be in shortly.”
I nod. “Your mother is in the air. She should arrive in the next hour or two.”
“Thank you. For everything. I know you didn’t sign up for all this. Offering my sister an internship and a place to live. She… I knew she couldn’t bear to come home. Even though I begged her to, she—”
“It’s been no trouble. She’s been…” A game changer.
A knock at the door grabs everyone’s attention. “Morning. Sorry to bother you. My name is Detective Shawn Collins. I was hoping to speak to you, Mr. Blake.” Noah’s eyes snap to mine. My expression remains blank.
“Of course. Let’s step outside.”
Noah stands, and I stick my hand out, stopping him. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.” I walk out of the room with the detective. “How can I help you?”
“Mr. Blake—”
“Call me Jackson.”
“Jackson, I’m sure you’re aware of the severity of this situation. We have one dead kid, one in critical condition, and a woman making heavy accusations. I was hoping you could help me piece some of this together.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
He studies me, his eyes full of suspicion. “What is your relationship to Georgia Price?”
Right to the fucking point. “She’s currently staying with me for the summer, working as an intern at my company.”
“And your personal relationship with her?”
“My personal relationship with her is irrelevant to this matter.”
“It becomes relevant when you’re being accused of sexual misconduct with a minor—”
“Miss Price is nineteen.”
“The timeline of these accusations traces back to when she was underage.”
“Mr. Collins, as I said, I have nothing to hide. Ask questions pertinent to your investigation. The ones you’re focusing on are irrelevant to the issue at hand.”
“And that is?”
“The Hallsteads. Reach out to my lawyer, Craig Stone. He’ll provide any information you need that pertains to me. As for Georgia, she’s the victim in all this. I won’t allow the narrative to be painted any other way.”
“And your son?”
His question hits a nerve. “He has nothing to do with this.”
“Georgia’s dating your son, isn’t she? Vince Hallstead was his best friend. Your son was one of the last people to see him alive. From what we can tell, there was some kind of altercation. Would you care to explain the marks on your face? On your son’s?”
“Call Craig Stone. He’ll provide the answers you need. Anything else involving my son or Georgia, will go through my lawyer.” I turn to leave, but he calls after me.
“What do you know about a ledger that was stolen? Mrs. Hallstead claims your girlfri—Miss Price had access to it.”
“I don’t know, nor do I care. My concern right now is Georgia. If you’ll excuse me…” I pivot sharply and leave, shutting out the conversation—because nothing else matters until I know she’s okay.
***
The doctor just left, and the room is silent except for the beeping of machines. There’s been no change. He says he’s hopeful, but the doubt in his eyes tells a different story.
“My mom’s on her way now.” Lettie breaks the silence.
“Good.” I glance at Noah. “I had Sarah bring a fresh change of clothes and some toiletries. Maybe clean up a bit. We’ve both been in the same clothes since yesterday, and with the bloodstains, I can’t imagine what her mother will think when she sees us.”
“I don’t want to leave her.”
“You can’t look like that when her mother gets here. Do it. Now.”
He stands abruptly, pushing the chair back, and yanks the bag out of my hands. “Like it matters. A clean shirt isn’t gonna change anything,” he mumbles, exiting the room.
I release a long, tired sigh.
“Maybe you should take a moment, too,” Lettie says. “Out of the two of you, you’re looking a little more worse for wear,” she adds. “Just sayin’.”
I have no idea what I look like. I’ve avoided the mirror. It only serves as a reminder of what I’ve done. Flashes of Noah’s hurt, the blind rage in his eyes with each swing he took. If I’d allowed him to continue his beating, how far would he have gone?
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be back. If anything—”
“I’ll call immediately.”
“Thanks.” I nod and walk out, heading to the visitor bathroom. Once inside, I rest my hand against the sink, my shoulders slumped. I glance at my reflection and become overwhelmed with shame and disgust. I’ve made such a mess of everything. Destroyed the last remaining part of our relationship. There’s no coming back from this. The truth weighs heavy in my heart. Georgia is lying in that bed, fighting for her life over a twenty-year-long vendetta. I missed all the signs. I should’ve never allowed Vince into our lives.
If only I could rewind time. Tell Georgia to do what was right in the first place and hand over the damn ledger. Let go of the anger I’ve clung to all these years. None of it matters now. Not compared to the regret I’ll face if I lose her.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to clean up. When I return, Lettie is standing with the doctor and an older woman I presume is her mother. They look over at me, and I almost have to look away at the raw pain etched in her mother’s eyes.
“Mom, this is Mr. Blake, Noah’s dad,” Lettie introduces. I step forward and take her hand, noticing how small and fragile it is in mine.
“Maribel Price. I don’t know how to thank you for helping me see my daughter. I’ll find a way to repay you every cent. I can’t imagine—”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad you’re able to be with her. Are there any updates?”
“Nothing good, but nothing bad either,” Lettie answers. “Her oxygen levels appear to be good, which suggests there’s a chance she’s starting to breathe on her own. The next twenty-four hours will determine when they bring her out of the coma. He’s hopeful for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“And then what?”
“We wait to see if she wakes up on her own.” The weight of her words takes over, and she collapses into her mother’s arms, sobbing. I glance at Noah standing rigid in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s barely holding it together. The anguish carved in his face cuts through me, but I don’t know how to make this better for him when I can’t pull myself out of my own dark thoughts.
“Noah, why don’t you and Lettie grab something to eat? I want to speak to Georgia’s mother alone.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You are now.”
“I said I’m not—”
“Your bullheaded attitude isn’t helping anyone. Let’s go,” Lettie snaps, storming out of the room. Noah watches her retreating figure, his jaw clenched, then reluctantly follows.
A brief silence hangs in the air as Maribel watches her daughter, the machines allowing her chest to rise and fall. She sighs, a deep regret in her voice. “This is my fault. I should’ve done better for them. My girls have suffered because of me.” She turns to me, her gaze full of sorrow. “My husband died of a heart attack when they were so young,” she continues, and I nod.
“Georgia told me. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“He was our everything—he held our family together. When he died, it felt like a part of me died with him—the part that was supposed to be strong for my girls.” She pauses, swallowing hard. “I thought Bill would bring some light back into our lives. Not to replace their dad but to fill a void. The girls needed a father figure.” She laughs cynically, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I remember the first time he hit me. I was in shock,” she recalls bitterly. “He apologized afterward, telling me how much he loved me and promising it would never happen again. And I believed him—the first time, then the second... until I stopped counting.”
“I knew he had a temper,” she admits, her voice almost breaking. “He yelled—a lot. And sometimes, he would...” She trails off, swallowing hard. “But I told myself it wasn’t that bad. I made excuses.” Her eyes flicker with a mix of guilt and shame. “He was stressed; he didn’t mean it, it was just once. But what kind of mother does that?” She shakes her head. “What kind of mother convinces herself that a man has any excuse to lay a hand on her child?” Her breath shudders. “Georgia didn’t tell me. She was protecting me. And I let her.”
Anger coils in my chest as my fists clench at the thought of anyone hurting Georgia.
She continues, her voice trembling. “One day, while I was working overtime, I got a call. Bill was home with the girls, and he said that while they were playing, Georgia ran into the street and got hit by a car.” Her voice breaks. “But when I saw her, so frail and frightened in that hospital bed, I knew he’d hurt her badly. Enough to pin the blame on a random accident. It’s how the hospital had my contact information. Since she was already in the Health Information Exchange, that’s how they pulled her emergency contacts, even without ID.—”
She halts, burying her face in her hands as her body trembles.
My anger rises at her story, but I force it down. “Is Bill still with you?” I ask.
“He is,” she replies quietly and drops her hands. “But he’s been behaving... ever since Georgia left. Maybe she was a trigger for him. I’m not sure.”
“And Lettie?”
She shakes her head. “He yells, but he’s never... at least, I don’t think so—oh God, have I missed those signs too?” She turns, grabbing Georgia’s hand, a crack in her voice giving her away. “My sweet girl,” she murmurs, crying quietly.
“How could this happen to my baby girl? She doesn’t deserve this. She’s always deserved better than the life she was dealt.” She lifts her head, her eyes pleading. “Please, tell me what happened. No one will tell me anything.”
My chest constricts, caught between what feels right and wrong. Tell the truth or lie? I’m not sure if it’s my place to share our story. There’s a very real chance if— when she wakes up, she’ll want nothing to do with me. Taking the cowardly way out, I offer her mother only the facts.
“And the boy?”
“He didn’t survive.”
“Where is his father in all this? Why hasn’t he come forward and taken responsibility?”
“I don’t know those answers. But trust me, I’ll get them.” I have Craig working overtime, lifting every unturned rock to find where that piece of shit is hiding.
“God, you’re gross.”
“And you’re a little brat.”
“Noah,” I snap as the two return, embarrassed at his behavior in front of their mother.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Blake. His childish insults don’t affect me.”
“Leighton Price. There is a time and a place, and this room is not it,” their mother lectures.
“Mom—”
“Enough, Lettie.”
A nurse enters the room. “Morning, everyone. I hate to do this, but I’m going to need you all to step out. I have to change her dressings.”
Instinctively, I bark, “Everyone out!”
Maribel turns to the nurse. “I would like to stay if that’s okay. She’s my daughter.”
“Of course.”
“I need to make some calls. I’ll give you your privacy.” I exit the room and dial Craig.
“I just got a visit from the detective. Gave him everything he needed. Heads up, though. There’s strange activity going on at the Hallstead estate. We might have a runner. Going over there to check it out now.”
“Not shocked she’s trying to save herself.”
“Also, Vince may have had the ledger, but it wasn’t on him when they brought his body in. What do you want me to do about that?”
“Nothing. I don’t give a fuck about it.”
“You sure? Might be why Veronica is in a hurry to skip town.”
“I’m sure. I need another favor. Can you look into Maribel Price’s medical records and find out everything you can about her cancer and prognosis?”
“Got it.”