Part 23 (2/2)
But even more than that, he wanted Sylvia happy and free. Not trapped.
So, yeah. As much as he hated it, he was sure about this. Sure enough that he'd walked away from her. Sure enough that he'd cut her to the core.
”I'm sure,” he said once more to his brother.
Damien didn't nod, didn't argue. He just looked at him, those dual-colored eyes seeing more than Jackson wanted to reveal.
”She loves you,” Damien finally said. ”Do you really think that walking away will make her love you any less?”
Jackson ran his fingers through his hair, the words hurting him more than he wanted them to. ”I think it will make her live her life.”
Damien lifted a brow, the expression almost smug. ”Like you did after she left you in Atlanta?”
Jackson's gut twisted as he fought against the truth of Damien's words. This was different, dammit. He was going to f.u.c.king prison. ”I just need to know if you'll stand as Ronnie's guardian, Damien. The rest isn't up for discussion.”
For a moment, he thought his brother would argue. But then Damien nodded. ”Of course I will. I need to talk it over with Nikki, but I'm certain she won't have a problem. Ronnie's my niece, after all.”
Jackson nodded slowly, relieved. ”Thank you,” he said simply.
Everything around him was going to s.h.i.+t. But Ronnie, at least, was going to be okay.
”Damien told me what happened,” Nikki says. She's arrived at my apartment with a bottle of wine. ”It may only be lunchtime, but I figured you could use this.”
”Thanks.” I step back to let her in. I'm not entirely sure I want company, but I can't deny that I appreciate the thought. And I know that Nikki understands what I'm feeling. Damien walked away from her once, too. I'd been working his desk, and even I hadn't known where he was. And like Jackson, he'd done it supposedly to protect her.
So if I'm going to commiserate with someone, it makes sense that it's Nikki.
”How are you doing?” she asks as I open the wine and pour two gla.s.ses.
We've moved to the patio, me on the chaise and Nikki in the chair. But right now, I don't feel like sitting, so I stand up and walk to the rail, then look out at the neighboring building and the ocean beyond.
”Like the world is falling down around my ears,” I admit. ”The resort is a mess. Just this morning, we lost two more investors because the word is out that Jackson is surrendering himself on Monday. And of course the press is all over that, calling Santa Cortez 'troubled.' How f.u.c.king annoying is that?”
”Very,” she says gently. ”But I meant about Jackson.”
”I know you did.” I sigh deeply and return to the chaise. ”Honestly, I don't know if I'm angry or hurt or something else all together.”
”All of the above, I'd imagine.”
I nod. ”The thing is, I know that I can be alone.” And it's trueit's true because Jackson taught me how to let go of my security blanket. How to find the strength inside myself. ”But I don't want to be alone. I want Jackson beside me.”
”Even though he might not be beside you?” she asks. ”He's right, you know. Damien talked with Charles and Harriet. With all the evidence against Jacksonespecially the prior a.s.sault, his temper, the argument that witness overheardHarriet's pretty certain the DA is going to play hardball. And she's even more certain that they'll be able to get in evidence of the underground fighting he does.”
My eyes go to hers. ”You know about that?”
”I do now. The court will soon.”
”f.u.c.k.” She's right; a history of violent behavior is only going to make Jackson look like a hot-head who lost his temper and killed the man who refused to back off the movie.
”Maybe he's right.” Her voice is soft. ”Maybe you should walk away.”
My answer, when it comes, is fierce. ”h.e.l.l, no. I want Jackson. I want Ronnie. I want the man I love and everything that comes with him.”
Something sparks in her eyes, and when she says, ”I know you do,” I sag a little with relief at this proof that she really does get it.
”So how do I get him back? How do I make this G.o.dd.a.m.n stubborn man change his mind?”
”I don't know,” she admits.
”What did you do?” I ask, knowing that she will understand I'm talking about Damien.
She lifts a shoulder. ”I cried a lot. And then I fought.” She looks at me, then actually smiles. ”Actually, with Jackson, fighting's probably a d.a.m.n good way to go.”
twenty-three.
I wake to the sound of Jackson's voice.
A wave of relief washes over me, followed quickly by disappointment when I realize he's not in my condo. Instead, I'm hearing his voice on the television, and I realize I must have fallen asleep in bed with the television on.
Now, a morning news show is playing, and the image on screen is Jackson on the deck of his boat with Harriet beside him.
”You're surrendering yourself tomorrow?” a reporter asks.
”I am,” he says.
”What about the Cortez Resort? Are you resigning?”
”I'm not. a.s.suming I get out on bail, I'll continue the work. If I'm incarcerated, then we'll either figure out a way for me to work while in custody or I'll support the project's efforts to find another architect.”
”The project's efforts?” another reporter repeats. ”You mean Sylvia Brooks? She's the project manager, right?”
”Correct.”
”So where is she today? You two have a personal relations.h.i.+p as well. How does she feel about your arrest?”
His face tightens. ”Ms. Brooks and I have only a professional relations.h.i.+p. We're not together anymore.”
That sets off a new buzz from the crowd of reporters, but all it does for me is make my stomach hurt. G.o.dd.a.m.n Jackson. I know what he's doing. He's making sure that our break-up is coming at me from all sides.
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