Scared of Beautiful (Scared #1)(55)

Jackson didn’t do that. Not my Jackson. I know him, he’s too good. He would never do that.

“Maia, please come down here. I need you. He needs you,” Jade begs.

“Okay,” I say, almost crying at the desperation in Jade’s voice. “I’ll fly out in the morning, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“Jade,” I say quickly before she hangs up, “tell him I’m coming, and tell him…” I can’t finish the sentence. I want to say tell him I love him, but the words don’t come out.

“I know,” Jade says, before ending the call.

Screw the vacuuming. I grab my cell and dial my corporate attorney’s private line, telling her to send her best criminal lawyer to Atlanta in the morning to represent Jackson. After authorizing coverage of all expenses incurred, I text Jade to get the hospital and room details before relaying the information to the law firm. Jackson will come home with me. He’s alive, and I can fix everything else. I may hate my money at times, but today I will gladly use every cent to buy his shot at freedom and our last chance together.

As I’m yanking an overnight bag from the closet, the doorbell chimes. Shit! I forgot all about Blake. I walk over to the door and open it with every intention of asking him to leave.

“Hi,” I say pleasantly.

Blake eyes the bag in my hands before replying. “Hi. Going somewhere?” he asks.

“In the morning. It’s kind of an emergency.” I reply. “I’m sorry, Blake. I have to pack.”

“You can’t let the best Indian food in Providence go to waste,” he says, holding up a white paper bag with the divine smell of coriander and cumin permeating from within.

My stomach growls in anticipation. “Okay,” I say moving aside for him to enter. “But not too long.”

Blake nods before following me in to the dining room. I feel bad for Blake. I have treated him horribly since he was unfortunate enough to run into me. Yet he still insists on seeking out my company. He’s right about one thing. The Indian takeout is easily the best in the city, possibly even the country. I forgot how much I had missed eating these past few days.

“You’re really distracted,” Blake says.

“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind,” I apologize.

“Will this help?” he asks, holding up a very expensive bottle of red wine.

“No thanks, “ I say, remembering how lacking in inhibition I was the last time I drank.

“Look, Maia,” Blake says seriously, eying me from across the table. “I can tell you’re really into this Jackson guy. I’m not trying to intrude on that. I promise. I think that you are smart and funny and absolutely beautiful, but I also know that your feelings are somewhere else. I just want us to be friends.” I look at Blake to gauge if this is a roundabout way of inciting the removal of my clothing via sweet words, but he looks truly sincere. I nod, grateful for the offer.

Blake and I continue to talk across the table. As promised, he is the perfect gentleman, and before long I actually start to feel comfortable. As we’re moving the plates into the kitchen, we hear a sharp knocking at the door.

“Expecting someone?” Blake asks.

“No,” I say, confused. I dry my hands and walk over to the door. Nothing could prepare me for what stands on the other side.

“There’s the illegitimate little girl I raised.” My father’s voice drips with hate and sarcasm. As he speaks, the acrid smell of whiskey and cigars wafts across the threshold.

“What do you want?” I ask though gritted teeth. “And how did you find me?”

“I, no, I should say we, have an announcement,” my father sneers before reaching into the hallway and pulling my mother next to him. Her cheeks are tear stained, her eyes bloodshot and she trembles as he grips her wrist. I glance backwards to see Blake end a call on his phone and walk over to the door.

“Everything okay?” he asks dubiously as he spies my mother.

My father pushes past us, dragging my mother along with him. She looks utterly destroyed, broken in every way possible, and my heart breaks when her eyes meet mine. Her eyes send a thousand silent apologies. I know how this goes. I’ve lived it so many times before. My heart beats uncomfortably in my chest as I wait for the escalation to happen.

“Well, well, are we entertaining?” my father scoffs sardonically. “Guess it’s true what they say, whoredom is genetic. Like mother like daughter, I see.”

Blake takes a step forward and I catch his hand, noticing the handle of a pistol tucked into my father’s waistband. I look up at him, pleading for him to stop, and thankfully he gets the message.

My father stands and casts an eye over the apartment. “Nice to see what my money buys,” he laughs. “Or is it his?” He points at Blake and addresses him. “How much does she charge an hour?”

Blake’s jaw tightens, and I panic as I wonder how much self-control he has left. His eyes are furious, murderous even.

“Well, since the whole family is here, time for the news. We’re getting remarried. Renewing our vows. Putting on a big party and you’re all invited,” my father continues, sweeping his free hand out in a mock fervor. “See I have a reputation to uphold, and your mother here is f-ucking it up by being a runaway.”