Then anger took over. But it wasn’t directed at him. It was toward myself.
I had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. The boss and his assistant. A tawdry affair. His sweet words and kind gestures had all been part of an act. One I had fallen for. I had allowed him into my life, pushed aside the quiet doubts and thoughts that plagued me. Neglected family and friends for him. Let him lead me blindly. I was furious. I knew better. I was smarter than that. My parents hadn’t raised an idiot, yet I had acted that way over Jaxson. Given him the power to hurt me. As soon as I told him how I was feeling, he was done. I thought of his hurtful words. He knew me well enough to use the ones that would wound the deepest.
I burrowed farther under the blanket. I thought of his mood swings. The aloof face he presented to the world that I thought was the false one, when really, the one he had shown me in private had been the lie. He didn’t care. I had been fun—until I was too much effort to bother with any longer.
I curled up into the corner of the sofa, his words echoing in my head.
Too much work.
Distraction.
Explored as much as I want.
Lasted longer than most.
Hero-worship. Like your father.
I did hero-worship my father. I adored him. But I had never thought about Jaxson as someone to save me. I didn’t need saving. I didn’t need a hero. I needed him—as a lover, a friend, and a partner.
I had been so blind.
Pain and rejection hit me all at once. I had allowed Jaxson’s lies to lull me into a false sense of security. I had actually believed that we had a future.
The truth was we never did. He never planned it. In my naïveté, I had thought what we shared was special.
It turned out to be anything but.
I turned my head into the cushion and let the tears flow.
I woke in the morning, stiff and sore. I had fallen asleep on the sofa and had stayed there all night. I woke several times, my face wet with tears, crying myself back to sleep. I sat up, rubbing my face, traces of mascara showing on my palms. I knew I must look terrible. I staggered to the bathroom, showered and washed my hair, feeling more human once I was dressed. It was just after eight when I called the office, steeling myself as Michael answered.
“Jaxson Richards’s office.”
“Michael, it’s Grace.”
“Hey, girl. You running late?”
“Um, no. I have a terrible migraine. I-I won’t be in today.”
He was instantly sympathetic. “Oh no. Larry gets those. Dark room, medication, and a cold compress is what you need. Want me to bring you some soup?”
His kindness brought tears to my eyes, and I had to clear my throat. “No, I’m good.”
“All right. I’ll check in with you later.” He lowered his voice. “Do you need to talk to the bear?”
My breath caught in my throat at the thought of speaking to Jaxson, but I managed to remain calm. “No. If he needs something, you can email me.”
“Okay, take care.”
He hung up, and I stared at the phone. I picked up the cup of coffee I had made, sipping it. I grimaced when I realized I hadn’t added any sugar, but I drank it anyway. Listlessly, I stared out the window, feeling lethargic and empty. I watched the streets out front get busier, not moving or caring. Until I picked up the cup of coffee for another sip and realized it had gone cold. I glanced at my phone, shocked to see I had been sitting for two hours, staring into space. Instantly, anger tore through me, and I stood.
I wasn’t going to allow Jaxson Richards and his selfishness to destroy me. I was Grace-fucking- VanRyan, and I was my father’s daughter. He taught me to be strong. To stand up for myself. I refused to let someone else destroy me. With a defiant toss of my head, I straightened my shoulders.
It wasn’t that I was too much.
He wasn’t strong enough for me. He wasn’t worthy.
And that was how I was going to get through this.
Hours later, I sat down, looking around and feeling pleased. My apartment was spotless. My laundry done. I had caught up on emails, chatted via text to Addi and Heather, smart enough to know if they spoke to me, they would know something was wrong. I made arrangements to meet Heather on Saturday so we could buy items to complete the charcuterie board for Addi and Brayden. I was going to be fine by then. I was already feeling better.
Then I planned my future. Jaxson Richards was right. He was a blip. But he was wrong about one thing. He was the mistake—not me. I wasn’t going to allow him to screw up my career the way he messed up my head. If he thought I would allow him to dictate what I did and did not do in that regard, he had better think again.