Taylor and Jackson spend a few minutes talking and laughing while I clean up my desk. I grab my phone, unsurprised that I have a few missed calls from Neil, a text from Ashton, and another from Gretchen.
Ashton: Be strong and remember you’re loved.
Me: Thanks Biffle. I love you. See you tonight.
I check the next message from Gretchen and smile.
Gretchen: Call me if you need anything and text me a picture of the new hottie. Ashton said I’d shit myself.
Me: I will! Can’t wait for you to meet him.
Gretchen: Where’s my picture?
Me: You’ll get one soon.
I look up as Taylor glances over, eyes wide and mouth agape as she points to Jackson. I resist the urge to laugh—he is ridiculously gorgeous. But more than that, he sees me. He sees everything I am and doesn’t run.
I glance at the clock and close up my office. We only have about twenty minutes before we have to be there. “Come on. Stop flirting with the office staff.”
Taylor laughs and we say our good-byes. Jackson has a town car waiting downstairs for us—another sign of his thoughtfulness. We climb in and he clasps my hand in his. A sad smile spreads across my face. I’m glad he’s here with me. But as far as we’ve come in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s only a matter of time until Jackson walks away. It’s like there’s this barrier around him that only permits me to get so close, and I have a nagging feeling that he’s hiding something. I can’t put my finger on what exactly, but it’s there in the way he breaks off his thoughts sometimes or the forlorn look he occasionally gets when he thinks I’m not paying attention. It keeps me from trusting my emotions. I want to give myself freely, allow him into the deeper parts of me, but I need the same in return.
“Hey, you’re quiet. What’s going on?” Jackson says, breaking my inner thoughts.
“I’m just thinking. A lot could happen today.”
My nerves are all over the place. I don’t know what to expect. It’s not like I have anything to go off of.
He rubs his thumb across my soft skin and my heart flutters. “Did your father have any other relatives?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I mutter. “I don’t remember much about my father or his family. I know he had a brother, but I don’t think they were close.”
“These usually aren’t long. It’s really a formality,” he says and looks out the window, taking a moment to himself. As he faces forward again, I notice his eyes, glossy with unshed tears. Releasing my hand, he grips his pants, looking uncomfortable.
“You okay?”
Quickly he glances up, giving me a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. Sorry. I hate lawyers. Will your mother be there?”
I want to call bullshit but something holds me back. I hate a lot of things, but most don’t make me emotional. I take a moment to weigh my response. As much as I want to press him, we don’t have enough time and my head isn’t clear enough for anything too deep. “No. I didn’t even tell her about it. I don’t really want her to be there. Let’s just say our relationship is strained at best.”
“Were you always like that?” he asks.
No, sadly we weren’t.
“There was a time when we were close. She worked hard throughout my childhood to make sure we had the basics—food, shelter, clothing. Eventually, it wore on her. Being a single mother and having to raise me alone with no financial or emotional support from anyone else was hard. I remember my grandmother being around when my father first left, but she died when I was twelve. That was when everything fell to shit. My mother started trying to replace my father and I became irrelevant.
“There were times we had fun. I remember a family vacation to Florida, and I clung to that memory when I was younger. But the older I got, the more and more bitter she got, until I left for college—which she refused to help me with. She thought I was an idiot and wouldn’t make it through year one, let alone get a degree. I really hated her during that time. But I proved her wrong. I busted my ass and got grants and loans to pay for my education. I refuse to fail and school was no different.” I look away, embarrassed by my rant. I didn’t mean to tell him all that. A simple no would have sufficed.
The car slows and comes to a stop in front of a tall building. This will be the final piece to my father’s part in my life. The moisture builds in my eyes as I think of the few good memories I have of him—the times he showered me with adoration, when he sang to me, when we played games, and when he helped with my homework. It surprises me that I remember any of them since they weren’t a large part of my life. Still, they were all I had to cling to during my darker times.
Whatever’s showing on my face gives Jackson pause. “Catherine, what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice chips away at my resolve.
“I’m fine.” I turn away, trying to gather myself so I can face this. Suddenly it feels like the car is closing in—I need to get out of here. Practically falling out of the car, I right myself and clench my hands. I can do this. I can go in there, find out what I need to be here for, and leave.
Jackson is behind me in a heartbeat, turning me around to face him. “If you’re fine, then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”
“I’m just … nervous.” I try to shrug it off so I can get this over with. Am I scared? Yes. Am I ready to lay to rest a piece of the puzzle that’s been missing since I was a child? Yes. I close my eyes, shake my head, and gather all the strength I can.
“You don’t have to do this. We can come back if you’re not feeling well.”
“Jackson, I have to do this now.”
“No, you don’t.” His jaw is set and his features appear angry, yet his voice is filled with empathy and understanding. “You need to be sure you’re strong and ready to face it. Let’s go up and reschedule. When you rush trying to get it over with, it only leaves a mess afterward.”
I glance at him curiously, wondering about that last statement. “No, I’m doing this today. If I leave here, I’ll never come back.” I take a step closer to him, grasping his hand in mine. My eyes soften and my heart swells from his concern. I need him. I need his strength even if it’s only him sitting beside me through this. “Please, I can’t do this alone.”
His body stiffens at my plea, but he doesn’t answer. I beg with my eyes as he looks away and releases my hand. He takes a deep breath and grips the back of his neck. Though it’s my father whose affairs we’re here to settle, by the way he’s acting you’d think Jackson was just as upset by this whole thing as I am. I can see how hard this is for him, but I don’t understand why. It goes beyond his worry for me. It’s personal. What inner struggle is he battling right now?
He takes a step forward. “I’m not going to make you do this alone. I promised I’d be here. If this gets to be too much, you say the word and we’re gone.”
I manage a half smile as I lift my head. Another piece of my battered heart was claimed by Jackson Cole.
“Thank you,” I say. Our fingers interlace as we enter the building.
Jackson lifts my hand, tenderly pressing his lips against my fingers. The whisper of his voice radiates to my heart as he gently says, “Of course.”
He lifts me up and keeps me safe. I hope he doesn’t let me fall.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Entering the upscale Manhattan law firm of Coogan, Goldstein & Leibowitz, the fear of the unknown is choking the life out of me. I have no idea what to expect or what my father could have left for me. All I keep thinking about are the possibilities—I could get answers today, or more questions. Why was I required to come to the office? Why couldn’t they have mailed me the paperwork? Is there something here I need to see? I can’t answer any of these questions, but they keep coming. What if he left some kind of video? Will I want to watch it? With each new thought comes a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. My fight or flight reflexes are in high gear, and if it weren’t for Jackson holding my hand, I’d be fleeing back into the elevator and getting the hell out of here.