Beautiful Rose (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jack

It took over an hour, but I finally had an email composed to Luke that I was happy with. I read it over one last time before I clicked send.

Hey Luke,

Thanks for your emails, it means a lot to me that you wanted to keep me involved in your life. I’m sorry I haven’t replied until now. I had a lot of trouble accepting what happened with Belle, and how much I hurt all of you. Communicating with you meant all that pain would surface again, so it was easier for me to forget.

I’ve been working really hard to get my life in order, and after three years, I feel as though I’m finally getting somewhere. I own a bar—which is my baby—and I’ve poured my heart and soul into making it into something that Belle would be proud of.

I’ve also cut out the scotch if you can believe that. For the first time in a long time, I’m doing things for myself, and it feels good.

I hope you’re well. Give my love to Sally and Annabelle.

Love Jack.

Sending that email, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. I’d been carrying that guilt for so long, this was the first time I felt some progression towards resolving it. As I went to close the laptop, I spotted an email from Tony. My finger hovered over the email for a good minute before I clicked open. Whatever was in here, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Jack,

Your mother is living in Manchester, United Kingdom under the name Kate Jennings.

Her address is 679 Blanshire Road. I have a phone number too; 000-314-932.

She is married to a Bill Jennings, and they have two daughters, and a grandson.

I hope you find what you’re looking for.

Tony.

I sat back on the chair, my eyes wide. Holy shit. Running my hands through my hair, I took in the news. My mother, the woman who deserted us, had been living a two hundred mile drive away. Having this information, and knowing what to do with it were two completely different things. While I’d always wondered where she was, and
who
she was now, I wasn’t sure I was ready to face her. Or even if I
wanted
to.

I closed my laptop. This was too much. Right now, I had no desire to meet Kate Jennings. There were too many things complicating my life as it was. The last thing I needed was another thing to stress about.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rose

“Rose.”

I stirred, but didn't open my eyes. I was dreaming, and for the first time in ages, I was happy.

“Rose!” The voice became more persistent.

Sighing, I struggled to move. My arms felt heavy, like they were full of lead.

“Rose!”

My eyelids fluttered open. Alex was kneeling over me. Where was I? My fingers, wet and sticky, brushed over something. Bed. I was in bed. I struggled to sit up.

“No, Rose. You need to keep lying down. An ambulance is on the way. You're okay,” he added softly. I lost myself in his eyes. There were so many emotions in there that trying to figure out what he was thinking made my head hurt. I knew what he was thinking, though. He was thinking about what a nutcase I was.

My eyes traveled down to his naked chest. What the . . . ?

“I needed to stop the bleeding,” he said sheepishly. I followed his gaze down to my wrist. Light gray fabric, stained with blood, was bound tightly around it, and for the first time I felt the throbbing pain. I glanced away, embarrassed that he was seeing me like this.

“How did you know?” I mumbled.

Shit, my throat hurt. It felt like sandpaper, raw and swollen. Had I taken anything? I couldn't remember. I couldn't even remember doing
that
to my wrist.

“You called me. Five missed calls tends to worry me. Then I couldn't get a hold of you, so I came over.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you.” I fell silent, not sure what else to say.

“I’m glad you did,” Alex said softly. He looked so concerned.

I was much more conscious now, so I struggled to sit up again. This time, Alex helped me. I gripped my wrist and winced.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly. I nodded. I shivered. I was so cold.  Alex jumped up suddenly, and disappeared out of the bedroom. He returned almost immediately with two paramedics in tow. I hadn't even heard them knock.

I answered their questions as they bandaged my wrist, and took my blood pressure.

Had I taken anything? I didn't think so. What happened to my wrist? I’d cut myself. I'd thought that was pretty obvious. Did I need something for the pain? Hell yes. Hopefully they had something stronger than Tylenol.

“We're going to take you to hospital so we can get some stitches into that wrist, okay Rose? Is there anyone we can call for you?”

I glanced at Alex. “I'll come with her,” he answered quickly.

They helped me onto the stretcher, even though I'd insisted I could walk, and wheeled me out of the house. I glanced at the front door, which was hanging by a hinge, with a huge hole about the size of Alex's foot smack dab in the middle of it.

“I'll replace it,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

Whatever they had given me for the pain worked wonders. I drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. Every time I opened my eyes, Alex was there. He never left my side. The doctors insisted on keeping me in overnight, and also that I have a psych evaluation in the morning.

“What time is it?” I asked, the fog in my head finally beginning to lift. My wrist ached like crazy.

“Three in the morning,” he replied quietly.

I turned to him in surprise. “Why aren't you at home? Don't you have work tomorrow?”

He looked at me strangely, a smile forming on his lips. “Rose, I'd rather stay here for you. I know things aren't great with your family. I don't want you to feel as though you’re alone. Because you're not.” The mention of my family brought everything back. Harmony. Mom.
Eve
. I felt sick, thinking about it again.

“Rose, was this . . . did this have anything to do with Jack?” he asked softly.

I snorted, angry and hurt that he thought I was that fragile.

“Honestly, Alex, your brother was the farthest thing from my mind.” I paused, weighing up just how much to tell him. “Harmony was in my house yesterday.”

His eyes widened in shock. “What?”

I nodded. “Apparently changing the locks on windows after a tenant vacates wasn't high on the landlord’s to-do list,” I joked.

“Jack used to live there,” he said, shaking his head. “Seriously, can that girl not take a hint? What did she want? Did she hurt you? Or threaten you?” he asked darkly, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I guess she did threaten me, but that wasn't it. She'd done her research on me.”

“Rose, nothing she could have to say to Jack would change how he feels about you. I'm guessing that was the reason behind the threat? To keep you away from Jack?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, but what she told me . . . she knew something I didn't know. God knows how she found out. Maybe I should have given the stupid bimbo a little more credit,” I said, making a face.

“You don't have to tell me what she told you,” he said carefully, gauging my reaction.

“No, I do. Everything we've talked about, with my childhood and my illness? It all kind of ties back to this. Thinking about it now, I feel like I should almost be thanking Harmony for finding this out.” I took a deep breath while he waited patiently for me to continue. “I had a sister. Eve. When she was two and I was five, I got into Mom's pills. We both overdosed, only she . . . she died, and I didn't.” Alex's jaw dropped. For the first time ever, he was speechless. He shook his head and reached for my hand. “I went to see Mom, who confirmed everything.”

“Holy shit, Rose. I don't even know what to say to that.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that was my reaction, too. Mom basically admitted she blamed—or,
blames
me for Eve's death.”

“You don't believe that, do you?” Alex asked.

I shook my head. “Harmony actually got ahold of the coroner’s report. Mom left some pills on her bedside table, and Eve and I got into them.” I blinked back tears. “Apparently I was in foster care for a couple of months. I don’t get it, Alex!” The shock and confusion I’d felt about all this had been replaced with anger. “I have no memory of her. My earliest memory is at age seven. Which actually made a lot of sense. But why would I block all that out?” My voice shook as the machines monitoring my vitals began to beep faster as my heart began to pound.

“Shh, Rose. That's irrational thinking. You were five. You’d suffered a huge tragedy, one that triggered something in you. Of course your mind would want to block all that out. But that doesn't make what happened your fault. How could anyone blame a five-year-old for that?” he demanded. I stared at his fingers, entwined in mine. He felt so warm. Having his hands on me made me feel safe. But more than that, I found myself imagining it was Jack who was holding my hand.

“Rose, your attempts at suicide? I want you to talk to someone who specializes in Post-Traumatic Stress. Will you do that for me? I think talking about Eve and what happened will really help you. There are lots of therapies these days to treat it.”

I nodded. Right now I’d agree to anything if it meant I could go back to sleep. “I'm tired,” I mumbled, wiping my eyes. I burrowed down further into the blankets. I felt surprisingly comfortable, considering I was lying on a hospital bed.

“Alex?” I said, just before I dozed off. “Please don’t tell Jack.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack

Reaching over to my ringing phone, I turned into a side street and pulled over.

“Hello?” I snapped. Standing in line for over an hour at the bank had not been a great start to the day.

“Jack, its Nick.”

“Hey man. You're at the bar? I'm just around the corner.” Nick was the delivery driver for the alcohol company I used. 

“No, I mean I'm here . . . shit Jack, the place is on fire. I called 911. The firies are here now, and so are the cops . . .”

“Fucking hell. I'm almost there.” I gripped the steering wheel and turned the car around, the wheels screeching as the car kicked into gear. What the hell had happened? I'd left home no less than two hours ago. Running a sweaty palm through my hair, I began to panic. Shit. Mr. Jefferies. Everything I owned was in that bar.

As the building came into view I spotted three fire trucks and several cop cars. I parked my car illegally and raced over. Some guy almost twice my size put his hand out to stop me.

“Sorry man, you can't go in there.”

“It's my fucking place,” I said, my hands balled into fists beside me. His eyes dropped as he retracted his hand.

“Sorry man,” he mumbled, letting me past. Inside was a swarm of cops.

Holy fuck. I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me.

With my knees slightly bent, I rested my hands on them, trying to catch my breath. The walls were black with soot, parts of the floor had melted under the intense heat, and the entire bar was completely trashed. A cop approached me.

“Are you Jack Falcon?” he asked. I nodded in shock. “Looks like the place was ransacked and then set alight. All the damage seems to be downstairs, but you might want to see if there is anything missing upstairs.” He glanced back at the charred remains of what used to be the steps. “Not that you can get up there right now. Your cat is fine. He's been taken to the vet, just for observation.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. The bar could be fixed. Losing Mr. Jefferies would have devastated me.

The officer stood there, uncomfortably shuffling from one foot to the other. “Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?”

I shook my head. “Not to this extent.”

They must have been watching me. There had been such a short window that they had to have known my routine.

He handed me his card.

“If you think of anything, let me know. Do you have somewhere to stay? It will be a few days before you can come back here.”

“Yeah, sure,” I nodded. Still dazed, I thanked him and then walked out. I stood on the sidewalk for a good five minutes, trying to get my head together. I clasped my hands behind my neck. What the hell did I do now? I walked back to my car, climbed inside and drove to Alex's.

He was not going to
believe
this. I was struggling to believe it myself.

#

I pulled up outside Alex's house, surprised to see his car in the driveway. He should’ve been at work, which was why I hadn't bothered to call him. He would've insisted on coming home, and there was nothing he could do. There was nothing either of us could do.

I walked up to the front door and knocked, loudly. I had a key, but always made a point of knocking if he was home. I'd learnt that lesson early on, after I’d walked in on something I could never erase from my mind. Alex opened the door within seconds.

“Jack.” I swear I saw his face drop.

“Something wrong?” I asked dryly. “And on the subject of wrong, why aren't you at work?”

“Something came up. Why are you here?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed as he looked at me uneasily.

“Alex. What's going on?” I asked sternly, in my best “I'm your older brother” voice. He sighed and stepped aside. I walked in, glancing back, still trying to work out what the hell was up.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw Rose sitting on his sofa. Well, that explained that.

Wow.
I didn't think he actually had the balls to actually make a move.
Especially
after the talk we had.

Don’t assume the worst, there has to be an explanation.

Rose’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Jack,” she muttered, lowering her glance.

“Hey Rose,” I said cheerfully. I looked from her to Alex, and forced a laugh. “Guess I should have called, hey? Looks like I've interrupted . . .” My eyes fell on her bandaged wrist, words failing me. I searched her face for something, anything that would ease the pain forming in my chest.