Her eyes soften and she steps out of her room, her arms wrapping around my ribs. I hug her body to me and notice she feels small. Did she eat at all today? Pressing my lips to the top of her head, the coconut smell of her shampoo fills my nose, and I turn my head to rest my cheek there.
Her breath is hot through my shirt on my chest when she says, “I like that Jax is out here.”
My eyes meet his over her head and, even though the smile from before doesn’t change, I see him breathe a sigh of relief.
Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I say, “Okay. You know where to find me if you need me.”
She nods and steps back into her room. Her eyes slide over Jax for just a moment before she shuts the door.
I meet his eyes again, so many things on the tip of my tongue. I know Mason trusts him with his life every time they go out on a job, and surely, he told Jax that Marley’s unique. I need to know my sister is safe before I walk away.
Reading my mind, Jax nods. “I’ll stay right here.” He pulls his hand from under his arm and points at the floor. “I’ll only go in if she cries out.”
Nodding my head, I glance at the shut door before I look at him again. As I turn away, he leans his back against the wall and slides down to the floor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TWO WEEKS LATER
Elly
The lights of L.A. light up the dark sky outside my office window, but it’s lost some of its luster. Since I got home, nothing feels right, like I’m the one thing that’s not like the others.
I don’t belong here anymore.
Well, I say anymore, but did I ever really belong here in the first place?
Ever since I came back from Oklahoma, I feel even more empty than I did before I went. Gray is my first thought every morning and my last thought every night.
Does he think of me?
Was I easy to forget?
When I got back to the office,I was told Harris is taking family medical leave for a couple of months, and I suspect whatever’s wrong with him may be a result of why he wasn’t in his hotel room that night or the next morning.
He deserved whatever he got.
Asshole.
The first week I was back, I watched my phone like I was waiting for a life-or-death call from my doctor, hoping Gray would call. But he never did. I even hoped Mr. Harlow might call to ask about the documents I gave them, just that little connection through the phone line would have made me feel closer to him, but he didn’t call either.
My father avoided all my calls and attempts to meet with him last week, but I finally got him pinned down. I’m sure Harris gave him all the dramatized details with a big helping of exaggeration on the side. And I’m sure he left out the part where he fucked up.
I sent the digital files I compiled while in Oklahoma to my father before I even stepped on the jet to come home. I’m not taking the blame for Harris’ dumb ass, but it’s probably inevitable at this point that it will somehow come back to me.
As I sit here looking out the window, my nerves have got me tied in knots and I’m using my breathing exercises to calm myself. I haven’t been this nervous since I got a C on my report card in seventh grade. Just knowing how disappointed he was going to be with me had me vomiting in my bathroom before he got home from work.
Glancing at my watch, I stand and try to rub some of the wrinkles out of my slacks and push my hair behind my ears. Closing my eyes, I think of my mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for the past two weeks: ‘if you can do this, you can do anything’. Squaring my shoulders, I leave my office.
Taking a deep breath, I knock on his door and wait to hear his gruff, ‘Come in’.
He’s standing by his window, his back to me,when I step in. It’s a power play he likes to use to let me know he doesn’t plan to spend much time with me.
What he doesn’t know is the conversation he thinks is going to happen is very different from the conversation we’re going to have. Even all the deep breaths I’ve been taking haven’t been able to calm the burn in my chest.
Standing across from him on the other side of his desk, I don’t bother with the smile he’s used to, instead, I wait for him to turn and face me. He looks every bit the GQ billionaire everyone would see on the cover of a magazine with his hands in the pockets of his tailored suit.
Mirroring his stance, I slip my hands in the pockets of my slacks, my bracelets jingle together on my wrist. It’s the only sound in the room as we look at each other.
