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Chapter one
Jackson
The smell of bleach assaults my senses as I sit in the sterile waiting room. Shuffling feet echo in the hospital hallway as doctors and nurses scurry past. My fingers trace the intricate details of the eagle crest handle of my cane, a silent distraction from the minutes ticking away. It feels like I’ve been waiting for hours. This is the last place I want to be.
I turn to Kennedy, my family's estate manager, who has become a trusted friend over the years. I've known him since childhood, a constant presence in the periphery of my life. He’s here to support me as always. His smile is polite, understanding, as if he holds the answers to all the questions swirling in my mind.
"Relax, Jackson," Kennedy advises, his voice a soothing balm. I huff in response, unable to quell the restless tapping of my working leg against the cold, unyielding tile. Patience isn’t one of my best attributes.
Starting physical therapy was a directive from my parents, delivered with a well-practiced blend of concern and insistence. Guilt, my ever-present companion, whispers that the suffering is warranted. It's a small penance for leading my entire squad to their deaths just months ago.
An injured leg pales in comparison to what those families lost. I deserve the pain as a daily reminder of my failure.
I knew military retirement was necessary after what happened, my mind rendered unfit to continue. Coming home was the only way to try and find peace.
Growing up in Seaside Bay was an amazing childhood. The seclusion of this small California coastal town provided a safe and sheltered bubble. Kids had the freedom to explore the picturesque terrain, discovering hidden caves and wandering through rolling hills. We found secret trails leading to panoramic views and created lasting memories watching sunsets over the Pacific Ocean.
It was my haven.
But coming home is also complicated, which is why I begrudgingly sit in this room. My family owns a security firm called Shieldify, started by my grandfather. It’s always been very successful, but a new direction propelled it to unprecedented heights many years ago. Recognizing the advantage of our town’s proximity to Los Angeles, my grandfather started targeting higher-profile clients.
The goal was to show them we were a small-town, family-run company. We put people first, business second, unlike companies in the city. After Shieldify started representing one A-list star after another, it exploded.
By the time I started high school, we were a hundred-million-dollar company with a long list of celebrities begging for our services. I’m one of two heirs in line to take over. My grandfather wants the next generation at the helm to appeal to clients thatget younger and younger. I didn’t have much interest until I heard my cousin Trevor wanted the job.
Trevor will ruin everything that’s been built. He doesn’t care about our clients’ best interests. Money and power are his only motivators. He also has a gambling problem that’s completely out of control. He has debt with some less than upstanding people. His involvement with them will destroy our prestigious reputation.
My military background gives me an advantage. But I know my grandfather will insist on a strong physical presence as Shieldify’s leader. I get it. It’s a security company. You can’t look weak, or clients won’t put their trust in you. I’ve got to get rid of this cane.
There’s another hurdle to overcome. You must marry to exemplify the family values the firm built its reputation on.
This additional pressure got to me last week, thinking about Trevor already being married. I let slip to my parents that I was recently engaged.
Big mistake. I instantly regretted it, but I was already in too deep.
My parents have been on a month-long trip, so I made up a quick story about the whirlwind romance that happened in their absence. They were so ecstatic for me they didn’t even question it.
"Jackson Reed, this way please,” the receptionist’s voice calls out, pulling me from the memory.
Finally.
I exhale heavily and push myself up from the uncomfortable chair. The cane supports my weight as I make my way toward the beckoning doorway, the clack shattering the silence.
Groaning, I advance, not enjoying the way my body wobbles like a penguin. Look at me, no one will take me seriously as headof a security firm. I know I need this, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I reach my therapy room, turning the handle to the heavy door. I’m so shocked at the woman standing before me that I tip over, dropping my cane. A hand instantly grabs my arm to steady me, saving me the embarrassment of flopping to the floor. I lean against the woman’s body for balance.
Brinn.
She’s my best’s friend younger sister. Her brother Greyson and I were inseparable as kids. Brinn tried to tag along everywhere we went, but I always brushed her off. Her bubbly personality got on my nerves. Who is that happy all the time? Most days, I pretended she was invisible so she’d go away.
But there’s no ignoring her now. She’s stunning. Long, dark brown hair is swept to the side, waves cascading past her shoulders. Her chocolate eyes have the slightest fleck of gold in them. I know because I’ve been looking at them for longer than I should.
“Hello, Jackson.”
Her voice breaks me from my trance. Did she notice the staring thing?
“Hi, Brinn. Long time.”
