“I came out to speak to you, really. With Ella’s consent.”
My brow knits and matches Damon’s confusion for a moment. “I want to make it clear that whatever it is Ella wants, whether The Firm stays, whether Zander continues to see her …” Kam’s gaze moves to me as he continues, “It’s her choice and I will back her up.”
Damon’s posture remains relaxed although his brow cocks and his head tilts. “Whatever she says?” he asks without amusement. I imagine the threat of extortion is riding through him and I feel bad for the man.
“Kam, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I was wrong and I’m going to make it up to you.”
Damon’s uncomfortableness is more than noticeable in his deep exhale.
Kam continues, “Whatever Ella decides to say, I saw and heard it as well.”
“You realize that’s not only a crime, it also could be detrimental to her healing.”
Kamden doesn’t flinch until Damon’s concern about my health is spoken.
The defensive tone comes with Kam shifting in his seat. “This is her life. Her decision.”
Damon’s careful with his response, his posture casual although I’m more than aware he’s a master of controlling his body language and speech. “We both want what’s best for Ella, and I imagine we won’t have any issues moving forward.”
“That all depends on—”
“Am I a bit fucked up?” I say, interrupting the men. “Yes.” It takes a lot for me to utter the next words. “Watching your husband die only feet from you could do that to someone.” Tears leak and I wipe them away. “Seeing the video of it repeatedly every time I turned to social media, having to talk about it constantly, having to beg people to stop … it got to be a little much, I’ll admit.” The words come out a whisper. Even now, as I sit here, I see it all over again.
The red light, his smile as he waved, leaving me to the paparazzi. He had the most charming smile. The stifling heat of that summer day weighs down on me and it comes with an anxiousness I can’t stop. The sound of the truck, the tires locking up, I hear it all, the screams from onlookers and then my scream. I feel the hands that held me back, those fingers digging into my skin now.
My voice is hoarse as I look each of them in the eye and say, “Am I a threat? To anyone? To myself? I don’t know but I don’t want to be, and I’m trying.”
Both of them part their lips to say something, to coddle me, to praise me … To admonish me, maybe. I have no idea, nor do I give a fuck.
“Is Zander bad for me? No. He’s not. So stop threatening to take him away. We’re adults. We know what we’re doing. Stay the fuck out of it.”
Zander
The coffee shop isn’t even close to maximum capacity right now, but there are a few people at the booths and tables. A couple more lined up at the counter. My brother waits for me in one of the booths. His starched dress shirt is stretched tight across his shoulders. The privacy here is nominal. More than we’d have at one of the tables in the middle of the floor. Far less than we’d have at the motel or at the office. He’s chosen a public place for a reason.
For the best, I think. Throughout our lives we’ve had knockdown-dragout screaming matches a few times. Siblings will do that. This can’t be one of those times.
The meeting yesterday ended with Cade refusing to agree to any terms. He needed to speak to his lawyer first.
A coffee grinder whines as I approach the booth and sit down across from Cade, the guilt taking a seat alongside me. Two coffees are already on the table, both black, and Cade stares down at his like it might give him some answers if he looks long enough. His jaw is tight, eyes dark. He’s obviously upset. He only glances up from the coffee cup when I reach for my own.
Fuck, I wish it hadn’t come to this. If I could go back, though, what could I possibly change?
And then my gut freezes. There’s concern in his hazel eyes, but he’s made up his mind about something. Cade has spent a long time mastering himself. He’s not one to let things slip. So even showing me this concern means this conversation has a real weight to it. I can feel it pressing down on me.
Cade looks away, back down into his coffee. “What the hell are you doing, Zander?”
I’m good at sitting still, but the urge to fidget is strong. It’s because I don’t have the words to explain myself. How could he possibly understand? I don’t feel like we have a shared language anymore. It shouldn’t be possible for the two of us to have drifted so far apart, given that we work together. But it happened.