Back to the Top (Ross Records) (3) (15 page)

“She’s fine here,” Jake said. “I told her she could stay as long as she wants. She’ll be safe here and if the asshole shows up, then I’ll take care of him.”

Groaning, I fell against the car, suffocating in all the testosterone. Why was it that men felt the best way to deal with things was with their fists?

I didn’t have time to ponder that question as Jake ended the call, handing the phone back to me.

“Your dad said to call him later,” Jake said.

“Okay.”

He moved in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Iz, I know you’re probably upset about all this but I want you to know that you don’t have to worry. You’re safe here and you can stay however long you want. Hell, move in if you’d like.”

I smiled. “I know.”

He grinned. “And I promise, no pressure from me, okay?”

I nodded.

“Do you have anything at your apartment that you need to get?” he asked.

“Not really,” I said, taking a mental inventory. “I was renting that place from Brad’s father’s real estate office. All the furniture and stuff was there when I moved in. The only stuff I had was my clothes. Most of my other things are in my parents’ basement.”

“Okay, good,” he said. “We can handle the clothes problem,” he said. “Greta will bring some stuff over for now and then later we can get you whatever else you need.”

Greta arrived an hour later, dragging me upstairs to show me what she’d brought.

“I’m so glad you came here,” she said, fussing over the bruises to my face. “And I wish you’d let the guys go kick his ass.”

“No, Greta,” I said. “I just want to put it all behind me now.”

“Good,” she said, pulling out shorts, jeans, and cute shirts. “I know Jake will feel better with you here. And then, you two can reconcile. We’ll all live happily ever after.”

I rolled my eyes as I removed a brand new toothbrush, a hair brush, shampoo, conditioner, and a handful of new, lacy panties. Lifting a brow, I gave Greta a look.

“What?” she asked. “I thought you probably needed those.”

“Plain cotton panties would have been fine,” I said, hiding a smile.

“Sure, but I think my brother would enjoy seeing those on you,” she said.

“Greta,” I said with a sigh. “We’re just friends, remember? The only way Jake will see those is if he does my laundry.”

“Whatever you say,” Greta said, plopping onto the bed. “But I happen to believe in destiny and fate. I think you two are going to get back together.”

“Greta,” I groaned.

“I’m also a realist,” she said. “Especially since I lost my father and almost lost my brother in the same year. I realized life is short and to make the most of it while you can. That’s why I fought for Matt. He’d admitted to me that he felt the same as I did but didn’t want to act on it while Jake was in rehab. It took time, but I made him realize that being together wasn’t wrong and that as long as we just dated and didn’t move in together or anything like that, Jake would approve. And I was right, of course.”

I smiled at her fierceness. “You and Matt are perfect together.”

“Yes, and so are you and Jake,” she said. “He’s different again, Iz. I mean, when he first got out of rehab, he was tired but pushed himself to work on music. When he wasn’t working on music, Nick had him working out with weights or doing projects around this house. Anything that would take Jake’s mind off the coke. It worked, too, except that he was so lonely. He never admitted it and even dated quite a bit, but there was something missing – that old energy he used to have.”

She reached over to take my hand.

“Ever since you came back into our lives, that energy is back. Yes, I know that you two aren’t romantically involved at this time, but you’re back and he’s happier than he’s ever been.”

I wanted to argue with her but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The shine in her eyes was just too beautiful.

“I love him,” I whispered.

“I know you do,” she said. “Does he?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I can’t tell him just yet. I have to work out this mess I’ve made.”

“I understand,” she said. “And he will, too.”

Greta hung around for the rest of the day. Ronnie called Carly and she arrived with the baby, who was named after Carly’s father (Richard) and given Ronnie’s middle name (Joseph) but was dubbed RJ. We gathered on the deck, drinking lemonade and cooking chicken on the grill, passing the baby around. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so good, even though I could practically smell the trouble looming on the horizon. I refused to think about it. I just wanted to enjoy and evening with my favorite people.

Just as I’d run into the house to use the bathroom, BK jogging after me in hopes of a dog biscuit, my phone rang. Thinking it was my father, I answered it without checking the screen.

“Hello?”

“I think you’ve pouted enough, Isabella,” Brad said. “I was wrong to strike you and I apologize, but you need to come home, now.”

There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his voice – not a hint of regret. He was only going through the motions, making it clear to me that I was to return. His need for control was stronger than ever – especially since I was currently out of his reach.

“No,” I said as I glanced out the patio doors and spotted Jake at the grill, laughing at something Ronnie said. “I’m not coming back. It’s over. I am not marrying you. I’ll send your ring back this week.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense,” he said with a laugh as if I’d just suggested that he bathe in his best suit or something. “You will marry me. We have a deal. I’ve fulfilled my part and now you must fulfill yours.”

“The deal is off,” I said, my insides chilling. “I will not marry you. I’m through.”

“You are not in any frame of mind to make such decisions,” he said. “I’ll make the decisions. I’ll call the shots. Now, if you get home tonight, I’ll forgive you’re little running away stunt and we’ll put it all behind us.”

“No,” I said. “I am not going back there.”

The line when quiet for a moment. And then, he spoke, his tone chilling.

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

He hung up, leaving me to stand there with the dog looking up at me, wagging his tail. Carefully tucking my phone into my back pocket, I gave BK a biscuit before running to the bathroom. I was going to have to come totally clean with Jake – and I was going to have to do it soon.

Twelve

That night, once everyone had left and Nick had retired to his bedroom, I curled up in Jake’s bed beside him.

“Are you sure you want to, you know, sleep in the same bed as me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I don’t want you to think that just because you’re staying here, that you’re obligated to… anything.”

I smiled, resting my head next to his on his pillow. “I know you better than that.”

He was quiet for a moment as he turned on the television and flipped through the channels, finally resting on VTV. “He’s not going to just go away, is he?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, no matter,” he said. “We’ll fight him.”

I rolled to my side, propping my head with my hand. “I don’t want you to be involved.”

“Too late,” he said, his eyes on the television.

“It’s not too late,” I said. “I can handle this, you know.”

He finally turned his head toward me. “Don’t push me away, okay?”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but he pressed a finger to my lips.

“I know, I pushed you away before. But that was stupid. It was a mistake. I just don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

I touched his cheek. “Okay, but some of this I have to do on my own.”

“I understand. But, I’ll be here for whatever you need.”

I smiled, inching closer. I wanted to kiss him but didn’t know if I had the right.

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Iz,” he said, reaching up to brush the hair out of my face.

I relented. “I love you, too.”

His smile was wide. “It’s about time you said that.”

He ran his hand through my hair until he reached the back of my head. Gently, he eased me closer, pressing his lips against mine.

“Get some sleep,” he muttered against my mouth. “We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

***

The next few days passed rather quickly. I had to contact my bank and the post office to change my address to Jake’s so that Brad couldn’t get his hands on any of my mail. Jake took me shopping to purchase things that I needed – objecting when I tried to pay.

Every evening, after dinner, we’d walk his property, talking and reacquainting ourselves with one another. As much as I loved him and knew he loved me, I wasn’t ready to just jump back into things. So much had changed in the years of our separation – we’d both grown in different ways – that it just didn’t feel right to pick up where we’d left off.

One afternoon, about a week after I’d been at Jake’s, we returned to his house, having just visited Ronnie, Carly, and the baby, to a patrol car and a flatbed truck parked outside of the gates. As Jake slowed the motorcycle down, I looked over his shoulder, noticing how white his knuckles were on the handlebars. He stopped near the police car and adjusted the bandana on his head.

“Is there a problem?” he asked the nearest cop, a heavy-set older man with salt and pepper hair.

“Are you Jake Johnson?” the officer asked.

I removed my helmet, running a hand over my hair. Gazing past the patrol car, I noticed another car on the other side of the truck. A figure stepped out and my heart sank.

“Yeah, I’m Jake Johnson,” Jake said. “What’s going on?”

The older cop’s partner, who’d been peering through the bars of the gate, stepped forward, a grim smile on his face. He held out a hand.

“Mr. Johnson, I’m Officer Berelle. This is my partner, Officer Smith.” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “I’m a big fan.”

“Thanks,” Jake said in an absent tone as his eyes skipped to Officer Smith. “Again, what is going on?”

It hit me in that moment. Like an idiot, I’d forgotten all about the car.

Just then, Brad moved into Jake’s line of sight, causing Jake’s entire body to tense.

“That vehicle on your property has been leased in my name,” Brad said. His body was a polar opposite of Jake’s. Dressed in his idea of casual, khaki slacks and a crisp, white collared shirt, he had his hands in his pockets, a slight smirk in the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying himself.

Jake killed the bike’s engine and put down the kickstand. He leaned forward, his eyes on Brad, and let his arms rest on the handlebars. I placed a hand on the small of his back and could tell, instantly, that his nonchalant demeanor was an act. Every muscle in his body was tight and taut, ready to snap.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes flashed briefly to the fading bruises on my face.

“Is this true, Iz?” he asked. “Is that car his or yours?”

“It’s in his name,” I mumbled. How stupid that I hadn’t thought of it.

“Mr. Johnson,” Officer Berelle continued, his young face flushed. “We have a court order to take possession of the vehicle.

My heart stuck in my throat. Would I be arrested, too?

Jake nodded as he sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure. But I’d rather that Mr. Stanich not enter my property.”

“What do you think I’m going to do, rob you?” Brad said with an uncharacteristic snort. “I have plenty of money, thank you very much.”

“I’m not worried about you robbing me,” Jake said, straddling the bike. “But you’d better stay away from Iz. If you ever lay a finger on her again, I’ll take you out.”

Brad took half a step back, jabbing a finger in Jake’s direction. “Are you officers going to let him threaten me that way?”

Officer Berelle’s cheeks flushed even more as he looked at Jake. “Mr. Johnson?”

Jake nodded his head in my direction. “Do you see her face? He did that to her. Now, I’m more than happy to let you fellows do your job, but if he ever approaches her, I’ll have to take care of him until you get there.”

Brad’s eyes shot fire at me while Officer Berelle gaped, clearly not sure how to handle the situation. Officer Smith stepped forward.

“Miss, do you have the keys for the vehicle?” he asked.

I nodded as Jake started up the bike. “If one of you officers would like to follow us inside, Iz will get the keys and you can take the car.”

Officer Smith walked to his car, pointing at his partner. “Stay with Mr. Stanich. I’ll get the keys.”

The burly men in the flatbed, who’d just sat in the cab, waiting to do their job, started the engine and followed Jake and the patrol car through the gates.

Jake parked near the garage and helped me off the bike so I could run inside to fetch the keys. When I returned, the truck drivers were lowering the bed.

“If you have any personal possessions in the car,” Officer Smith said, his voice gentle, “go ahead and get them.”