I Want You Back (Want You #1)(20)
“I know.” I focused on my baby cousin. She’d grown into a real beauty. Her gamine, almost elfin facial features belied the strength in her athletic body. If our golden-haired cousin Annika was considered the “Iron Princess” due to her cool demeanor, then Dallas was the “Fair Maiden”—we all felt protective of her and her delicate sensibilities. Dallas had a few quirks that might throw her into the oddball category if not for the Lund name (and money) that allowed her to be seen as an eccentric rich girl.
From the time she was a small child, she’d read people’s auras, seeing spirits and harnessing positive energy through various techniques that have always made her a joy to be around. Plus, she has a sixth sense that is a little spooky. Our family lovingly accepted the “woo-woo” aspect of her, even if not everyone believed it.
Last year, after Ash let the Lund Collective—aka all branches of the entire Lund family—know that he and Nolan were dealing with my stake in Borderlands, Dallas begged Ash to give her a job. She’d worked in Personnel at Lund Industries during her last two years of college as an intern—a job guaranteed to turn into a full-time management position after she received her bachelor’s degree. But something had happened to her in her senior year of college that sent her into near seclusion. We chalked it up to a bad breakup with her Russian hockey-playing boyfriend, who’d gone to Russia for a funeral and hadn’t returned to the United States. In fact, he hadn’t been heard from again.
After spending more time with Dallas in the past six months than I’d spent with her in her entire life, I recognized her indecision about joining the family business had nothing to do with a broken heart or bad relationship. Not that I had taken steps to talk to her about it . . . until now.
“So sweet baby D, what’s been going on in your world?”
The bracelets on her wrists rattled when she crossed her arms over her chest. “My mom is hounding me.”
“About?”
“Cochairing a couple of charity events. Then she sends me real estate notices about new places that have come up for sale on the market. She’s even emailed me links to spiritual spa retreats in Bali. She doesn’t act like this is a real job.” She sighed. “I know her heart is in the right place. But I’m still dealing with the major aftereffects from the total solar eclipse, when Mercury was also in retrograde. It’s such a powerful celestial event when darkness falls on the sun. It forced me to shed the mask I’d been wearing as well as accept that I have to admit to the outside world I need to honor who I truly am and step into the light again.”
I leaned in. “Okay. Was that little segue supposed to reveal the real story on why you’re not working at LI? I’ve heard from everyone that you were instrumental in revising the intern program, and it’s been incredibly successful in all departments. Why aren’t you basking in your success and outlining the next phase?”
“You would just get to the heart of the matter, wouldn’t you?” She tipped her head and looked at me, yet beyond me. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. The need for truth eclipses everything in your world these days too, doesn’t it?”
Ironic she’d claim that, since I still hadn’t come clean on a crucial upcoming event, choosing to deal with mundane day-to-day issues instead. “This isn’t about me, Dallas.”
“It should be. You’re the owner of this business.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” I paused. “Talk to me.”
Those unnerving blue eyes connected with mine. “I like being the idea girl. I love when what I envisioned falls into place and runs smoothly. What I don’t like? The pressure to have more ideas, better ideas on someone else’s time frame. I freeze up, Jax. Not a little. A lot. I nearly go into a catatonic state. Then no ideas, no words, no feelings come. At all. The people that I worked with, the team I supposedly helped rebuild at LI . . . when it happened, they didn’t support me; they turned on me. My inability to contribute—their words—was construed as laziness. I was a Lund; I could skate by and collect a check without being subject to performance review.”
My anger rose but I slammed a lid on it. “I imagine you tried to explain to them that in a collaborative effort everyone shouldered the blame when creativity slowed or even stopped?”
“Yes. But at that point they’d gotten so used to me contributing more than my fair share of ideas that they had no problem placing nearly all the blame for our lack of new progress on me. The negativity crushed me. I couldn’t function at all. The only way to get out from under any kind of expectations was to not subject myself to them in the first place.”
I took her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“And before you ask, no, I didn’t tell Ash. Or Annika. Or Nolan. Or Brady. Or my dad. None of our family have any idea what happened. They would’ve made it worse, going after the people responsible. Then it would’ve become a self-fulfilling prophecy; I did rate extra power and special treatment because of my surname. But it’s not really been a better solution, letting the family think I’ll return to the fold after I’m done ‘finding’ myself.” She locked those vivid blue eyes to mine again. “I found myself a long time ago, Jax. The only time I’m not myself is when I’m at LI, pretending to be someone else.” She paused. “And you get that, don’t you?”