Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (34 page)

I silently watched as Spencer opened the remaining packet, presumably the leaded variety, and filled the small carafe with water from the tap. I was grateful for the help but aware that it would come at a price. When the machine started hissing and gurgling, he joined me at the table. He tilted his head and studied me. "You really stepped in it this time, didn't you?"

"You sound surprised."

"Maybe I shouldn't be but I am. I saw this playing out several different ways, but I never thought it would end up like this."

I glared at him. "And how did you see it playing out? What did you think would happen when you sent me here? When you practically threw her at me knowing what you do about my track record? What the fuck did you expect?"

"You want the truth?"

"No, Spence, lie to me." I deadpanned.

"The truth is I sent her in there expecting one of two things." He paused for effect, eyeing me. "Either she would be the last thing on earth you wanted, or she would be the only thing on earth you wanted. The bitch of it is, I couldn't decide which one I was rooting for, but I knew from the moment I met her that she was going to change everything. And I think you knew it too."

I couldn't even be pissed off at him. He was right. But there was nothing to be done about it. It was over. And I needed to leave before I made it any worse. I ignored his statement and pressed on, not wanting to think about just how much Ali had changed things for me, or how much I let her down. "Brant call and tell you I want out?"

"Oh, I've been quite popular lately, thanks to you." He folded his arms on top of the table, leaning down into my line of sight. "I got calls from Brant, Blake, Talia, Ali..."

I straightened. "Ali? What did she say? Is she alright?" I had no right to ask, but I needed to know.

"We'll get to that. First let's talk about you ditching the project. Brant is fine with you taking over in Charleston, thinks he's doing you a favor by giving you a way out of here, but I disagree. I think you need to keep your ass right here, fight this out and quit fucking running."

I clenched my jaw, causing pain to shoot through my temples. Dammit. "I'm not running. I'm doing what's best for Ali. Blake said he'd fill in for me until Brant can get here. She shouldn't have to see me anymore. I know her, Spence, she's not going to just walk away from her obligation to the company. She'll stick it out because she's no coward. Just look at all she's put up with from GFS. She should have told them to kiss her ass months ago, but she's fighting to keep her job because she can't stand the thought of backing down." I shook my head and folded my hands together on the table. "She's done nothing wrong, and I won't add to her pain by staying here."

"Brant said you told him she has a connection to Holden Shepard. You sure she's done nothing wrong?" The question wasn't meant as an accusation, there was no malice in his words.

I leaned my head into both hands, holding it up by my forehead as I fought back another wave of nausea. "No way, Spence. She's not that kind of person. If I thought so, I wouldn't be as fucked up over her as I am. Besides, she would have nothing to gain from him taking over our company."

He twirled the cap to one of the empty bottles, looking thoughtful. "I tend to agree. I've come up with a theory that I think may explain the connection, though, because you know I don't put much stock in coincidence."

"Should I be drunk for this? Because there're a couple more bottles in that bag over there." I was only half-joking.

He ignored the feeble attempt at humor. "From what Brant relayed of the conversation you two had, I gathered that Shepard is financially enabling Marissa. You hired an investigator who uncovered this?" I nodded my head feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. "We know Marissa was in the office around the time the build here in Denson started, and we know she was going through the files, ostensibly to steal her own. But what if she came across Ali's new-hire packet and got curious? After I talked to Brant, I went looking, and Ali's file does reference Shepard in the emergency contacts section. We never noticed it because it was irrelevant at the time, but Marissa probably zeroed in on the name in a heartbeat."

"So, you think Marissa got nosy and stumbled on a way to get back at us by using Ali's connection to Shepard?"

He shook his head. "I think she knew Shepard's reputation and decided to help him get his hands on the company as a way to punish you. The lawsuit was probably dreamed up by Shepard, especially the part about naming me. He hasn't shown any interest in trying to buy your shares, just mine and Brant's. I think he intends to keep you on because you've got the most talent to exploit, and the best way he could think of to get me and Brant to sell is to alienate you from us. No better way of doing that than setting one of us up to take the fall for your mistakes." He thought for a moment, twirling an errant bottle cap. "Ali was just a catalyst to get Marissa in bed with Shepard, at least figuratively if not literally. Marissa saw a familiar name on Ali's contact page when she was nosing around and seized the opportunity. They have no way of knowing about you and Ali unless Ali told her mother or Shepard herself."

Shit. "They know. Ali's mom pissed her off, and she was very blunt about the nature of our relationship."

He cocked a brow. "Blunt? Do I want to know?"

"Nope. Just suffice it to say, Holden is probably aware of our personal connection."

"I'm betting that's why he's redoubled his efforts in the past few weeks. Marissa rummaged through basically every scrap of paper in that office, there's no way she missed the contract. Hell, the file was even labeled with our little nickname for it."

I snorted miserably. "The 'Clay' Clause. Perfect."

"So, we have to assume she shared that with Shepard, too. Meaning, he knew you were breaking the contract, and he was laying the groundwork so that Brant and I would know to call him first, should we decide to sell. Smarmy bastard."

I could only stare off into the distance, I had no words to apologize for what I'd done. Not just to him, but to all of them; Brant, Ali, Gran, even Talia. I'd promised her I would look after her friend, and instead I broke her heart.

Spencer reached across and snapped his fingers in front of my face. "So, what the fuck do we plan to do about it? What are you going to do about Ali? About the project? Are you really going to Charleston?"

I regarded him dryly. "Ali and Brant will finish up the build here, and I'm headed to Charleston as soon as the holiday weekend is over."

He gave me a pointed look. "Then why didn't you go back to Richmond? Why stay in this shithole motel when you have a perfectly nice house back in Richmond?"

He wasn't going to let it fucking drop, so I answered through gritted teeth. "Because it's just a house, not a home. I haven't had a home before, not even when my mom was alive. We shared a house with a heartless bastard who made sure I felt unwelcome every day of my life. Our one shot at a home was here in Denson and look how that turned out. Ali is the only home I've ever known." My voice dropped to a pathetic whisper. "I'm not sure how to walk away from that."

Spencer pounded the table, sending a surge of pain through my skull. "You don't. You don't walk away from it. You fight for it, moron." He pinned me with an intense stare. "You just mentioned your mom for the first time since we were kids, do you realize that? Do you think I don't know what losing her did to you? How the fucking guilt has ruled your life?"

I dropped my gaze and shuffled over to the coffee pot, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

Spencer wasn't done, though. He stayed at the table, his back to me as he said, "Don't you think I felt guilty, too?" I stared at the back of his head, suddenly confused. "You were on the fence about coming to my house that weekend. You wanted to go with your mom but thought you'd sound like a sissy if you admitted it. Why do you think I told you about Stephanie being grounded? I knew you liked her, so I used her as bait because I wanted you to come over." He turned in the chair, watching me. "If I hadn't pushed you so hard, maybe things would have been different. For a long time, I blamed myself, thinking Rebecca would never have died in that crash if I hadn't been so selfish."

My chest tightened as I saw the quiet anguish in his face. "You can't blame yourself for that. I wanted to spend the weekend with you. I wanted to avoid my mother forcing me to go in the lake."

He shook his head, pressing his lips together in a sad smile. "You're not remembering it right, Clay. I called twice to ask you over, and it was only after I mentioned Stephanie that you decided to come. I know what I'm talking about because I replayed those conversations in my mind a thousand times over the next year."

He stood and walked over to where I was pouring the coffee, accepting the cup I handed him with a nod. "You want to know why I stopped kicking myself over it?" Something in his eyes told me I didn't want to know, wouldn't want to hear it, but I nodded anyway. "About a year later, you were staying the night, and I woke up to the sound of you thrashing in your sleep. You were on the bottom bunk, and I leaned over from up top to see if you were okay." He blinked a few times as if his eyes burned. "You were mumbling apologies to your mother, kicking and whimpering like you were running. You said something in your sleep that night that changed everything for me. Want to know what it was?"

My hand shook as I lifted the foam coffee cup to my lips. Blowing on the steaming contents, I slowly blinked, the closest I could come to an answer.

"You said 'Please take me with you. I should have been with you.'" His voice cracked, and my shoulders began to shake. "That's when it hit me. Maybe what I'd done, pushing you into coming over, had kept you out of that car. Maybe you would have died too if I hadn't manipulated you into staying the weekend." He took a deep, ragged breath. "As horrible as it is, I was relieved. I'd been so focused on what was lost, it never occurred to me to be grateful for what I still had."

He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I swore I'd never tell you any of this. I didn't want to add to your misery, but maybe it will be your wake-up call. Hell, maybe you should have heard this years ago." He shoved my shoulder slightly. "Stop blaming yourself for shit that wasn't your fault. Stop walking around focusing on what's missing from your life and start seeing how full it is. We all make decisions every damn day that have the potential to change our lives. Stop punishing yourself for a decision from twenty years ago and take a hard look at the ones you're making right now."

I sat my coffee on the counter and braced myself on my hands, needing a minute to get my shit together before I could speak. I took a few slow, deep breaths and forced down the massive lump in my throat. Turning to Spencer, I said, "What if I decide wrong again, Spence? What if I fight for her and later realize she was better off without me?"

He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When he reentered the room, he leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, his crisp, clean shirt a stark contrast to the faded wallpaper. "Do you remember how obsessed I used to be with cars and racing?" I nodded, not sure where this was going. "I sat in front of the television every damn weekend, watching any and every type of race I could find, but my favorites were always road course races."

I smiled involuntarily at the rush of memories of us drinking glass bottles of root beer in his den, yelling at the television and trying to act like grown-ups. "Yeah, you said they were harder, and that made them more fun."

He snapped his fingers, looking pleased. "Exactly. Not knowing what was around the corner made it more dangerous but doubled the thrill. Sometimes they spun out and ended up in the dirt, but they always ran as hard as they could." He smiled. "Life isn't a drag race, Clay. You don't get to see the finish line before you even start. Life's a road course, blind curves and ending up in the dirt are part of the package. Everyone spins out. The difference between being alive and truly living is having the balls to get back on the track and finish the damn race."

He nodded to the steam-filled bathroom. "Get yourself cleaned up and get back in the fucking race or sit there in the grass sucking dust. It's time to sack up, man." He headed for the door, tossing a small packet onto the dresser as he went. "I'll bring you some clothes from the cabin, then you can either carry your ass back to Richmond or man up and go find out for yourself what Ali has to say."

When the door closed behind him, I ambled over to the dresser and picked up his offering. It was one of those single dose packages of aspirin you can grab at gas stations. I couldn't help laughing. The guy was always looking out for me.

I replayed our conversation while I stood under the uneven spray of the shower. He was right. It was time to get back in the driver's seat.

And I knew just where to start.

A COUPLE OF HOURS
later I was back in my truck, behind the wheel again both figuratively and literally. Spencer hadn't said a word when he came back by and dropped off my clothes and travel bag. He'd handed me my stuff, pulled me in for a quick hug, and then disappeared like a damn phantom before I could even thank him. It was the first time I could recall when he hadn't had a thing to say. He must have decided that he'd talked enough. He'd made his point and left the rest up to me.