Chapter Nine
Jackson
"Mr. Jackson." Emily's voice comes over the intercom, and I hit the receive button.
"Yes, Emily."
"There's a Mr. Finnegan at security in the main lobby. He says he's your father and he's refusing to leave. Security told him he needs an appointment and doesn't have clearance for the executive floors, and he's... causing a scene."
"What the actual fuck?"
"How can I help?"
"I'll handle it. Thanks, Emily."
I'm out of my chair before the line disconnects, scanning the floor for Rose as I head toward the elevators. She's been out most of the afternoon, which means she's due back any minute, and I cannot have him standing in this building when she walks through those doors.
Not here.
Not like this.
I dial Sean on my way.
"Sir."
"Why the fuck is he in this building, Sean?"
"There were no restrictions placed on his movements, sir. We're watching him as directed. We weren't advised he was barred from entry. We can move in and remove him now."
Fuck. He's right. I told them Wesley wasn't allowed out of their sight. I never told them he couldn't go anywhere.
"No. I'll deal with him."
I jab the elevator button with too much force and the wrong goddamn hand, and pain shoots through my split knuckles all over again.
"Goddamnit!"
By the time I reach the lobby, Wesley is at the security desk arguing with two guards, pleading with them to let him upstairs.
He's still wearing the same bloodstained clothes I left him in, although somebody has at least cleaned his face.
People have stopped to watch, because a bloody old man screaming in the lobby is today's free entertainment, and I spot at least three phones pointed in his direction.
Fucking hell.
"Dad. You can't fucking be here."
I keep my voice low as I reach him, take him by the arm and start steering him toward the doors. All I need is to get him outside without turning the debacle he's already making into something that lands online before dinner.
"Son. Thank God. Son, please, you have to hear me out." He presses his hands together like he's praying to me. "I can't go to prison, Marcus. I'm frantic. I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack."
I ignore him and keep moving, jaw locked so tight it hurts, and we're almost at the doors when something in my peripheral vision makes my whole body seize.
Rose is walking into the lobby.
Her head is down, attention on her phone, completely unaware of what's waiting twenty feet in front of her, and whatever Wesley says next disappears beneath the sudden roar of blood in my ears.
My heartbeat is everywhere at once, pounding through my entire body and throat as my brain scrambles for a solution that doesn't exist.
I move on instinct and pull Wesley in front of me, turning him so his back is to her while both hands clamp down on his shoulders.
It's ridiculous. I know it's ridiculous even as I'm doing it, using my father as some kind of human wall as though I can physically block fourteen years ago from walking straight into her line of sight, but panic doesn't give a fuck about logic.
Rose lifts her phone to her ear.
Mine starts ringing.
Her ringtone cuts through the lobby, loud and absurd and so completely ours that under any other circumstances I'd be smiling before I even reached for my phone. Instead it sounds like a warning siren, and when she finally looks up and finds me across the room, she smiles.
Jesus Christ.
That smile nearly takes my legs out from under me.
I close my eyes for half a second and pray to every god I've ever read about that she turns around, gets back in the elevator, remembers something she forgot upstairs, anything. Just not this. Please, not like this.
But when I open them, she's already started toward me.
I hold up one finger.
She stops.
Just stops and waits because I asked her to, phone still at her ear, patient and easy and trusting me the way she said she would in the car.
That somehow makes the panic worse. She has no idea what I'm asking her to wait for.
No idea I'm standing here trying to keep the worst thing that ever happened to her hidden behind his own fucking shoulders.
She's still smiling.
God, she's beautiful.
And I know I'm about to watch that smile disappear.
"Son, listen to me, goddamnit! Do you know what the tabloids will do to you? To me? Wesley fucking Finnegan in prison? You can't do this, Marcus. Have some goddamn mercy!"
His voice carries clean across the marble, and I screw my eyes shut.
He just announced himself to the fucking world.
When I open them again, Rose's smile has faltered and I can feel my heart getting ripped out of my ribcage.
At first she only looks confused, her eyes shifting from me to the man I'm holding in front of me while something behind them starts working.
I can almost see the recognition moving through her, reaching backward through years she has spent trying not to revisit, digging through memory for something her body found before her mind did.
Her face changes slowly, and that's the worst part. The smile disappears first. Then her brows pull together, the color drains from her face, and her eyes go wide as that voice finally finds the memory attached to it.
Wesley feels my grip tighten on his shoulders and starts to turn.
Fuck.
I try to stop him, but I'm what feels like a million miles too late.
Rose sees him.
And I know the exact moment everything clicks into place.
Her phone slips from her hand and hits the marble hard enough that the crack echoes through the lobby.
Her bag follows, everything spilling across the floor, but she doesn't even look down.
One hand goes flat to her stomach while the other presses over her heart, like her body is trying to hold itself together at the two places he broke fourteen years ago.
"Rose."
I shove Wesley out of my way and run to her.