All Who Dream (Letting Go) (34 page)

I worked
tirelessly to get approval on the final drafts of several of my revision
chapters, while writing two new ones documenting my escape from Colorado to
Texas, and my first nights at
The Refuge.

Jackson
was in yet another meeting. I hadn’t seen him but once this morning when we had
shared a minty kiss for all of five seconds under the cover of his town car.
Other than Walt, we’d been safe from any peeping eyes. Then we’d gone our
separate ways. His demeanor changed the instant he walked inside Pinkerton
Press, as if the part of him that I got to see—the part of him that I loved the
most—had been left outside.

I decided
I would corner
Pippy
, make her tell me what was going
on, only I didn’t see her either. Most likely she’d been invited to the “secret
meetings”, which for all I knew could be about a possible alien invasion, or
how to keep peace in the Middle East, or the latest recipe for safe play-dough.
Urgh
.
It was driving me a bit insane.

It was
late afternoon when I finally listened to the growling in my stomach and made
my way down the hallway toward the elevators. I made sure to pass by Jackson’s
office, just in case he was suddenly alone. He wasn’t, but the door did fling
open a second after I passed by. I don’t know what shocked me more when I
turned around—the fact that Stewart came out, or the fact that Jacob was with
him. I felt my eyes widen before I reminded myself to smile. Stewart’s eyes
softened as they found mine.

“Good
afternoon, Miss Flores,” he said.

“Good
afternoon,” I said, trying to recover from my surprise.

Jacob
walked over to me and put his thin, lanky arm around my shoulder.

“Walk
with me?” he asked, warmly.

I nodded
as he quickly spun me back toward the elevators. I didn’t see Jackson, and
maybe that was Jacob’s goal. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to see him. Stewart walked
in the opposite direction, leaving us alone. I pressed the button to the floor
of the café.

“How are
you, Jacob?” I asked gently.

“I have
no complaints,” he said. “How are you?”

I
swallowed, pondering his answer. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

He looked
at his watch. “Were you on your way to get lunch now? It’s nearly four.”

I smiled,
sheepishly.
“Got caught up with writing.”

He nodded
slowly, still smiling. “I knew someone else like that once.”

The door
opened and Jacob gestured for me to follow him. I did. There weren’t many
people in the café as four o’clock wasn’t a normal lunch hour, but those who
were there flocked to Jacob. I’d seen how people reacted to Jackson—with
respect and head nods and handshakes. That was not the reaction they had with
Jacob, however. He was a hugger.

Jacob was
the personification of warmth and love.

I bit the
insides of my cheeks as the fifth hugger made their way over to him. After his
greeting sessions were through, I grabbed a bowl of fruit and a protein bar and
met him at a small booth against the far wall. It was strange the way I felt
around Jacob, like I’d known him a lot longer than I actually had. Maybe it was
the fact that I was in love with his brother, or how his daughter was now one
of the dearest people in my life…I didn’t know. But there was an understanding
with him—a comfort I felt whenever he spoke to me. I tried not to think about
what else I knew about him.

“How’s
Jackson?” he asked me.

The
question startled me. He was just with
Jackson,
surely
he knew how he was. “Um…weren’t you just meeting with him?”

He
laughed lightly
,.
“I like you, Angie. I can see why he
feels for you what he does.” He clasped his hands together on the table in
front of us. “What are your thoughts on how he’s doing?”

I put my
fork down, despite the growling in my stomach. I had my own questions, and
Jacob it seemed, was the man most equipped to answer them. “Stressed—but he
won’t talk to me about it. I don’t know what’s going on.”

His perm-grin
drooped slightly. “Yes. I’m working hard to change that—so far though he’s not
too receptive to my attempts to help him. Stress is the natural by-product in a
job like his, but…”

“But what?”
I asked.

“I don’t
want to speak for Jackson. I’m in enough hot water with him right now, but he
can be so hard-headed that sometimes it takes some drastic measures to get him
to see what he should be seeing.”

I leaned
in, lowering my voice. “Is he in some kind of…legal trouble?”

Jacob
patted my hand gently, like a dad to a daughter.
“No—not
exactly.
He just needs to make a decision that at this point he’s still
refusing to make.”

I huffed
out a breath I’d been holding. “Jacob
tell
me what to
do…if I don’t know what’s going on, then how can I help him?”

He stared
at me for several seconds, his wide smile returning.

“Jackson
and I are over a decade apart, but it’s never felt like that. I swear he
thought like an adult when he was ten. It was painfully annoying at times to
have a younger brother that was wittier, smarter, and a heck of a lot more
talented…but he had this idea that following in the footsteps of his dad and I
was what was expected of him. That’s not how it was. His father—like me—saw the
potential that Jackson lived up to when he was writing,” Jacob’s eyes were
focused elsewhere, as if far away from me. “But then several difficult things
happened at once—and he let it all go. Though I appreciated his help and
support when he came to relieve me, I never wanted this for him.”

I nodded,
feeling the emotion behind his words.

“When
life feels out of control we often go back to a place where control can be
found—even if it’s the wrong place,” Jacob said.

“He told
me about
Livie
.”

He nodded.
“I’m glad to hear that.”

“But I
keep feeling like there’s more to the story…”

Jacob
sighed. “Guilt is a dangerous thing, both when you’ve done wrong, and when
you’ve been wronged.”

“You mean
he can’t let go of her?”

He shook
his head as if to disagree with my question. “I was with her…when she died. It
was a tragedy that I’ll never be able to make sense of this side of heaven, but
I was there when she said her final words.”

I gaped
at him. “What did she say?”

I instantly
felt guilty for asking such a question, but Jacob continued as if he had
expected it.

“She said
four words: Tell Jackson I’m sorry.”

My eyes
pooled with tears.
“Their fight.
She was apologizing
for their fight.”

“Yes.”

“Oh gosh.
No wonder…”

I couldn’t
even speak the words aloud as every scolding I’d received from Jackson over my
misuse of those two little words came flooding back into my mind. He hated
those words:
I’m sorry.
And I finally
thought I understood why. It wasn’t because
Livie
had
spoken them with her dying breath, but because he’d never been able to speak
them to her. I closed my eyes briefly and cleared the emotional lump building
in my throat.

“So what
do you want from him?
For him to step down as CEO?”
I
asked.

“Yes.”

Though
I’d asked Jackson many times why he was choosing the family business over his
writing career, or why he had given up his dreams for the regrets in his past,
I couldn’t imagine telling him to quit. That was
his
decision to make.

Something
in the way Jacob answered though, something in that simple, one-worded response
told me he wasn’t just being
asked
.

“Jacob,
believe me when I say that I want Jackson to pursue his talents as much as
anyone, but I don’t think that forcing his hand to make that decision is what
he needs. If you push him out, do you really think he’s just going to run right
back to writing again? I don’t.”

Jacob
seemed to consider this. “It’s not just up to me—there are others involved, but
yes, my hope is that he will not only turn to writing again, but that he’ll see
a future with the woman who loves him.”

I looked
away, my face flushing hot. “It’s that obvious?” I murmured.

“Both
ways—yes.”

I smiled,
hoping he was right about that as he took out his phone and checked the screen.

“I need
to get going, Angie. My bride is waiting for me. She’s been out doing some
damage to my bank account with my daughter.”

Oh, so
Pippy
wasn’t in the meetings today after all
. I was relieved to hear that. Being
pinned between her
boss—
who was also her Uncle—and her
father, would not be easy.

“Okay,
thanks Jacob. It was nice to talk with you.”

“No,
thank you,” he said, picking up my hand and planting a kiss onto the back of
it. “You’re a treasure, Angie.”

And then
he was gone.

I opened
the seal of my fruit bowl and stabbed at a watermelon chunk, but apparently
eating was not in the cards for me today. I jumped as a piece of paper was
slammed down next to me at the table where I sat. A large hand was attached to
it…one I knew quite well.

“What is
this?” Jackson seethed.

Uh-oh.

I smiled
up at him, hoping to find a hint of understanding.

“Jackson,
I don’t know if now
is the best time to talk about that
.”
I sighed, picking up my water and taking a swing.

“And when
would be the best time, Angie? Friday morning?
When I watch
you on TV!”
He gripped the back of his neck, obviously working hard to
stay calm since we were in the very open and public café.

I leaned
back, hoping he’d sit down. He remained standing. This fact bothered me—a lot.
I crossed my arms over my chest like a child in time-out.

“And
you’re just an open book about all your life decisions,” I said. “If you want
to talk with me about this, than you can sit down and stop looming over me like
some kind of middle-school bully.”

He
glowered at me, but sat down in the seat that his brother had filled only
moments before.

“Cancel
this,” he said firmly, pointing to the paper, which appeared to be some kind of
confirmation from The Eastman Morning Show. I’d been stupid to think I could
hold onto that information without him finding out.

“Jackson,
I need to set the record straight-”

He
laughed darkly. “You won’t even get a word in, Angie. That woman is a viper.
It’s her life’s ambition to hunt her pray and eat them alive. The first time
was bad enough—how could you even
consider
this? I thought at first it was some kind of
mistake, that
is until I saw your email attached to the bottom of it.”

I sat up
straighter, not willing to be intimidated by him.
 

“Aren’t
you the one who’s always telling me how strong I am? Telling me that I should
share my voice with the world? Well, here’s my chance. I’ll admit it was a
quick decision, but it’s done now.”

“When did
you even make this decision? What brought this about? You never even told me
you were thinking about talking with her again.”

He was
right. I hadn’t thought about it—not once.

I stared
at him, unwilling to answer with the truth that was sure to get me into even
deeper trouble. But a second later he rubbed his hands down his face in
frustration, lowering his voice as he leaned across the table.

“You read
them—your reviews?”

“Yes.
They are
my
reviews to read, Jackson.
I can’t just live in a
Lala
-Land bubble for the rest
of my life. I have to deal it—the backlash.”

He looked
up at me sharply, though his voice was still low. “Think about what you’re
saying, Angie. It’s
all the
backlash that
Divina
created—the same woman you’re wanting to talk with
again on live TV.”

“I just
want a chance to be heard—to state the facts in my own words.”

He shook
his head, reaching out to take hold of my hands. I was surprised that he did something
so personal. We were not in a private setting; we were at his work place.
“Angie—
please
.
Whatever bad reviews you’ve read, it isn’t worth going back on the show with
her. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

I let his
words soak in. I cared about what he thought, and deep down I knew he was
probably right. I’d most likely fry on that hot seat again, but something
tugged at me even deeper. Sure, I had initially made the decision out of anger,
but it didn’t feel rash to me anymore.

I
needed
to do this, to face my fear.

“I can’t
explain it, Jackson, but I feel like I need to do it. I can’t let my fear
control me—not anymore. But…I do want you with me.”

He closed
his eyes briefly and took in a deep breath.

“Fine,”
he said eyeing me narrowly. “I’ll be there.”

 
Wednesday came and went quicker than I thought
possible. The tension around the office was less, though Jackson was still
off
. He drilled me for over an hour on
our way home while stuck in bad traffic, asking me the kinds of things that
Divina
was likely to throw my way. I winced several times
as if proving his point, but I didn’t go all comatose like last time—so at
least I was making some headway. He laced his fingers through mine, as we
walked into my apartment just after seven.
 

He looked
so tired when he walked me to my door. I was supposed to change for a nice
dinner out—Jackson had made us a reservation, but I just couldn’t do it, not
when I knew he wasn’t sleeping at night. Not when I knew he had so much more on
his plate than what he was sharing with me. We didn’t need to go out. We just
needed to be together.