“God fucking dammit,” he mutters under his breath. “I knew I should never have dragged you into this.”
“It wasn’t just your decision, Jett,” I remind him. “I have at least half ownership of it.”
“No, Poppy. You don’t get it,” Jett says, striding over to the kitchen and snatching his phone off the counter.. “The media… the public… they’re like rabid dogs when they get a hold on something like this. I’ve learned how to protect myself from it, I should have been protecting you, too. Your entire livelihood depends on this. I fucked up, I stuck my foot in my mouth like I always do. And you… you should have never gotten involved with me.”
His words hit me somewhere deep, somewhere that was already worried this would happen too. The voice in the back of my head, and Wren’s voice, loud and clear, that told me to be careful with my heart when it came to Jett.
But somehow that doesn’t matter to me anymore. What’s done is done, and there’s no going back. And all I can think about is the fact that he’s just admitted he’s attached to me. That maybe there’s something more here after all.
Jett opens his phone screen, and his face drops when he looks at it.
“Fuck.”
I move next to him so I can see it. There’s a half a dozen missed calls from Brooke. Jett pounds the screen on her name to call her back, and I go to sit on the couch while I wait. I tuck my knees up to my chest, hugging them close to my body, and squeeze my eyes shut.
“What the fuck happened, Brooke?” Jett asks, his tonefirm and measured, like he’s keeping a tight leash on his emotions.
I can’t hear what Brooke on the other end, but I only need Jett’s half of the conversation to get an idea of what she’s saying, how she feels about the error. When I look over at him, his back is turned to me, but his shoulders visibly drop.
“Brooke, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. I know you’re sorry. We can talk about that later, just focus on what we need to do.”
Jett hangs up the phone and comes over to sit next to me on the couch.
“What did she say?” I ask, although I’m already bracing myself for the answer.
Jett shrugs. “Not much. She’s in a real state.”
“So, what now?”
Jett shrugs, but when he looks up at me, there’s something resigned in his eyes.
“I’m not letting you lose the café, Poppy,” he answers.
A sinking feeling washes over me.
I don’t know what the future holds for Thistle + Thorne now, or for me. Will I be guilty of fraud? Will I lose the café, or worse? I suck in a deep inhale through my nose as I try to settle the panic rising in the back of my throat.
“I may not be going to the World Cup Final, but I’ll be damned if you lose Thistle + Thorne.”
“Wait, did you hear from Jason? Have they already decided that they’re dropping you?” I ask, knowing that there’s more to this story than Jett is letting on.
I can tell by the tight line his mouth forms, the way he’s not directly answering my questions.
“Not officially, but it won’t be long until I get the call.” His voice seems disconnected, almost numb.
“Are you going to try and fight it?” My voice is rising, the tone becoming almost desperate. It seems outlandish to me that one company, one person, can decide whether Jett gets to live out his greatest aspirations.
“It’s already a done deal,” Jett says. He checks his phone, and places it with the screen open to a social media post on the couch between us. “Nuclear won’t want to keep me on after this, I’m sure of it. And I need a sponsor to stay in the running for the World Cup. It’s done.”
I pick it up and a wave of nausea washes over me as I read the first few lines of a statement from Jett. In which he assumes all responsibility for the marriage scheme. It was posted thirty seconds ago, by Brooke, I’m assuming. I skim the statement, because I don’t need to read the entire thing to know that it’s going to seal his fate with Nuclear.
I want to set the record straight… The decision to get married was mine… She acted in good faith… I take full responsibility for how the situation unfolded…
“Jett, what is this? When did you do this?” I ask, his gaze lowering to his lap to evade mine.
In my gut, I know the answer to my question by the way Jett’s face drops. It was written weeks ago, when we first came up with this scheme. The statement was ready to go out at the drop of a hat should anyone find out about this.
A fail safe.
