Love Me: The Complete Series (39 page)

Her voice was starting to squeak and Jackson dreaded whatever came next, even though he needed to hear her reasons. He’d spent countless nights wondering what the hell had happened. “Yeah.”

Amanda stepped toward him and thrust a finger to his chest. “It was you, Jax. I left because of you. Because you wanted me gone. I could handle your parents and that stupid wimp of a boss, David. I just couldn’t understand why
you’d
turn on me like that.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Turn on her? He hadn’t turned on her. He wasn’t even sure why’d she’d ran off—which she’d just chosen to do once more. He stared as she broke into a sprint. In less than five, four, three, two, one seconds she was gone. Again.

Badeep deep.
Hell, now whoever called was texting? Their timing sucked. He dragged his phone from his pocket and looked at the display. Holy hell.

Mom:
Your father is in the hospital. Pick up the phone.

A stroke.

What shitty luck. Just when a man got to the top of the ladder, the peak of his game, so to speak, Mother Nature decided to throw him a curveball. Jackson’s father had spittle flowing down the side of his face as he stared out the window. His clouded eyes held little emotion and barely registered the movements around him. Jackson’s emotions, however, were spinning like a kite in a tornado. Did a person lose their thoughts and feelings after something like this? Or just their memories and motor skills? Was his father really there? Who could tell?

God had just swiped his hand across the chessboard of Dad’s life and cleared the game. An optimist would say it was a chance for a do-over. Of course, such optimist would have to completely ignore the fact that he might have lost all memory of the past
and
needed to relearn a great deal of motor skills. For the CEO of a family-held company, that would certainly affect his decision-making skills. It was time for a new strategy. Jackson seriously doubted this particular scenario was in the cards when Dad had talked to him about moving out of the cubicle and taking his “rightful” spot with the company.

Only his mother could phrase it in a way that drove the stake in place without sugar-coating. “I guess now you’ll have to stop playing around and get serious at work.”

Stop playing around? Was that what he’d been doing when he spent six years in college making straight As, passing the bar exam, and taking a job in legal like every other
intern? Was it really playing around to want people to take his efforts seriously and respect him for his work and not his name?

“I didn’t know I was, Mom. Besides, you know as well as I do that David has more experience and can run the company. Hell,
you
are more qualified than either of us. You should take the helm.”

“That would have been nice, wouldn’t it? Your father had other ideas. He’s written into the company charter that you would take over certain duties if he’s unable to fulfill them. I had a role some time ago but that was removed when—well, when his focus shifted.” He tried hard to ignore the glittered wetness of her eyes.
Focus shifted. Is that what they call an affair these days?

It wasn’t the first time either. Why had his mom tolerated it all these years? “Mom, why’d you let him run over you? All those years … all those … ‘shifts in focus.’ Didn’t it bother you?”

The curtain closed on her lapse in control. She raised her shoulders and looked out the window over Dad’s seemingly comatose body. Did he hear them? Did he understand? Jackson couldn’t care less. The man he called Dad had been a pillar in the community, an enthusiastic and successful businessman, a half-decent father—and the worst husband on the planet. Ironically, he’d hidden it well from the public and his mother had never said a word.

“Don’t pass judgment on something you don’t fully understand, Jackson.”

“I understand enough to know he treated you like crap in private and pretended to idolize you in public.”

“Watch your words, young man. He’s still your father. Not to mention he’s sitting right here in front of you.”

“Mom …”

Lynn Holstenar held up a hand. “Enough. What happens between your father and me is not your business. What happens with the company is all that matters at this point. Well, that, and getting Robert back to normal.”

“What exactly would that be?”

Normal. Jackson didn’t want his Dad’s “normal” self. He wanted something more, or perhaps less. The company
wasn’t
all that mattered in Jackson’s eyes. It was the only thing that
didn’t
have importance at the moment. If his father never returned to them, never came out of this shell, what would be the most important thing he left them?

A company worth a small fortune? A legacy?

Jackson turned his hands over, trying to come to terms with what his father actually stood for. There was a lot of pride in his work ethic. He’d built the company from the ground up, and they’d had more than a few lean years in Jackson’s childhood. Unfortunately, as time passed, all Jackson could remember was all the times his father was gone while Mom held their family together.

She’d been there when he broke his arm and had to be rushed to the hospital. His father was in L.A. at the time. When Jackson graduated from college, she arrived an hour early to snag a spot in the front row, then stood and cheered when he traipsed across the stage. She was alone and embarrassed, but she was
there.
Dad was negotiating a contract in Thailand. Robert had shown up when he graduated from law school, only to spend much of the ceremony and after party pacing behind the crowd and talking on his cell phone.

Still, he’d been present. Not perfect but there and Jackson knew there were a lot of people in the world who’d never had a dad at all.

At seventeen, Jackson had spent more time at Carter’s than home. He’d had a multitude of reasons—Carter needed him and Jackson’s house was depressingly quiet. His mother had been at the office almost as much as his dad so Jackson often was home alone.

He just wished for someone to talk to and often found that at Carter’s. Carter’s mother, Becky, once told him to give his parents a break. “You’re blessed to have parents that work so hard to give you a lifestyle they’d always dreamed of. Your life may not be perfect. Hell, one can always see the cracks in the concrete if they’re looking down. Force yourself to look up and you’ll see everything you want waiting for you. Look forward to a future that has the perfect life and relationship. Then stop whining about what isn’t right and go get what is—what can be. Your parents can’t control who you are and the sooner you realize that, the quicker you’ll find your own place.”

Becky Coben was right.

Jackson went to college and found the self-satisfaction he’d never attained at home. Without his parents’ legacy, he’d managed to make his own way. He’d studied hard and while his father had wanted him to choose a path in business, law school hadn’t been a disappointment. It was the contrary. More than his parents expected of him. In truth, if he thought hard about his life, he’d always exceeded their expectations and it was never enough.

Snap. Snap. His mother’s finger clicks jolted him back to the present. “Earth to Jackson. What in the world are you daydreaming about? Are you hung over?”

“I haven’t had a hangover in years, Mom, but thanks for the confidence.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I was … trying to lighten things up.”

Dad chose that moment to turn his head and focus—on Jackson. “Mmmm.”

Jackson leaned forward. “What, Dad? Do you want something? Some water?”

“Mmmm.” A mist covered Dad’s eyes. Hell. It had to be frustrating to lose so much.

The door whooshed open and the attending physician joined them. “His speech will take a while to come back but it will. Slowly. The rehab will help get him on his feet and moving. We’ll transfer him to our residential physical therapy program on Monday. Your insurance covers it for two weeks, then he’ll need to continue the exercises at home.”

“How long will that take?” Jackson wasn’t all that keen on filling his father’s shoes at work.

The doctor shrugged. Without looking up from his notes, he spoke. “I can’t really say. Everyone’s different. As long as there aren’t any further episodes, a couple of weeks will make a huge difference.”

“Will he be able to return to work?”

“Sure, but he may not be the same.”

The same? What did that mean?

“Not the same would be fine with me.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t nice to be critical at the moment.

The doctor’s eyes snapped up from his pad. “What’s important is getting him on his feet and talking. He needs to relearn a lot of things, simple things like how to use his hands and legs. I can guarantee you he won’t be same for a while, maybe never.”

Damn.

It wasn’t until Jackson was in his SUV that he wished it had occurred to him to question his mother about Amanda’s revelation.
It was you … you wanted me out.
She’d left the company because of him? The likelihood his mother had any knowledge of the circumstances was slim. At one point, Lynn Holstenar had been entrenched in the day-to-day business strategies and decisions. Not now.

David had knocked heads with her early on which resulted in Lynn stepping back and allowing him room to work. At first, Jackson had been certain David would be fired. No one challenged his parents in business matters.

But David not only survived, he thrived. Jackson was confused at the time but soon came to terms with the man’s surly ways, though he often wondered if there was an undercurrent he needed to better understand.

Leaving the hospital felt like shedding a heavy winter parka. The weight of emotion sloughed off temporarily. He rolled the window down and opened the sunroof to breathe in something other than the smell of antiseptic.

He was moving upstairs beginning Monday. He’d fought it for years only to be in the exact spot his parents had wanted him ages ago. The calmness that soaked into his chest wasn’t what he’d expected to feel.

As he coasted down the street to turn onto the freeway and head home, music blared from a nearby bar and a thought surged into his mind. Was Amanda with Carter now? Had the date gone well? Had his advice made a difference? Should he stop by and check on them?

He shook his head. Hell, it wasn’t like he was her parent. In fact, as much as he’d coached Amanda, the only thought that kept running through his peanut-sized brain was the elevator incident, which conflicted with her interest in his friend.

He flipped a left at the stoplight and headed toward midtown. Carter would want to know about Dad, right?

Twenty minutes later, he walked into the club and searched the room for familiar faces, expecting to see Carter and Amanda on the dance floor. He got it half-right. She was there—her hands in the air, eyes closed, bopping up and down in a group full of people. None of them was Carter. It was a major battle to tear his eyes away.

“She’s something else, isn’t she? Here.” A beer was thrust in Jackson’s hand as Carter pounded his back.

“Yeah, not sure exactly what—but something. Having fun?” Should a friend silently wish for a solid ‘no’ answer? Why was there a tinge of satisfaction at seeing her dancing out there in the crowd alone? He cast it off with a shrug. Hell, the way she flung her arms around, it would have been impossible for anyone to try to dance
with
her. She’d beat them to death.

“This place is awesome. I’m sweating my ass off. Amanda loves to dance, hasn’t stopped since we got here. Not sure I keep up but it’s a hoot trying. Who said attorneys were boring? I had to take a short break to hydrate a little.” Carter tipped a beer toward Amanda. She smiled a huge smile and waved both hands at them.

Yeah, they were having fun—dammit. “I just stopped by to tell you … Dad’s in the hospital.”

Carter shifted his eyes from the dance floor to Jackson, his voice dropped to a monotone. “Seriously? What happened?”

“He had a stroke.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. Is he going to be okay?” Carter’s concern was genuine and Jackson measured the guilt in his stomach, knowing that he’d intentionally wanted to dampen the spirit of the moment. He’d injected a cloud over their date and it wasn’t comforting to know he’d done so intentionally.

“Which hospital?”

Jackson relayed the information and spoke for a few minutes about Dad’s state of health. Carter focused intently on Jackson’s words. Jackson, however, never let his eyes waver—from Amanda. She was a terrible dancer, yet for some strange reason, it was mesmerizing. Sort of like watching a train wreck. You knew it was going to hurt but you couldn’t stop.

When she finally worked her way through the crowd to join them, her hair was dripping and curled up in tiny ringlets around her forehead. It was nothing like the severe and professional look she’d sported in the elevator weeks ago. Nor was it the fresh-but-sloppy/sleepy look of the weekend. It was the look of much-needed escapism. Rapture. He had no idea she loved music and dancing so much.

Carter rushed to get her water and libations from the bar before she melted into the dance floor.

Amanda swept her hair above her head with both hands and held it with one. Was she waiting for her skin to stop perspiring or hoping a breeze would develop inside the building? “Jackson, what are you doing here?”

He wasn’t sure. At first he thought he’d be a good wingman—did they call it that for a woman? That was a laugh.

Amanda needed help from no one, especially not him. Carter approached and passed her a drink. She downed it in two gulps; it was incredibly sexy to watch the water pour down her throat and disappear into the crevice of her shirt. “His dad just had a stroke.”

The euphoric abandon splayed across her face earlier disappeared. Amanda dropped her hair and clutched into Jackson’s arm. “Oh, my God. I’m sooo sorry.”

Carter didn’t seem to notice the familiarity of the gesture though it made Jackson uncomfortable. Sure, it was just a friendly gesture of sympathy but to Jax, it felt—personal. Carter must have thought otherwise. “I need to go by the hospital, Amanda.”