“Em," I say, holding up the unicorn like an idiot peace offering. “This is for Mercy." She stares at it but doesn't make a move to take it, and I lower it back down again. "Look, I know I screwed up. The night of the fire—my phone died, and we were pulling hose till dawn." It's really what happened but it feels like I'm just making excuses. "I saw the bakery sign the next morningand came straight here, but your dad sent me away. I’ve called. Texted. I’ve been drowning in insurance claims and trying to keep the business from folding. I even?—”
“Stop.” She cuts me off, then crosses her arms over her chest tightly. “I don’t want to hear the excuses, Jaxon. Okay? I get it, and I know what happened with the fire, but I needed you." She points to her chest. "And you weren't there, yet again."
I feel my throat close up. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what we missed on the code. That back sink drain? The way we vented the oven hood? I went over every damn thing I helped you with. I thought we were solid. If I caused this, Em, I’ll fix it. I’ll call the inspector myself. Whatever it takes.”
She laughs hard with her head thrown back, then lowers her head and sighs loudly, glaring at me. “God, you still don’t get it. I’ve been handling things by myself for over eight years. Me and Mercy—we’ve been fine without you. We don’t need you swooping in now with some stuffed toy like it makes up for everything.”
I feel her words cut me to the bone. It's not fair of her to be like this with me, but lashing out will only make this worse. I bite my tongue, clenching my jaw. I don't want any part of the beast inside me that attacks when it gets provoked. That's what trauma made me, but that's not who I am.
“Emily… I’m not trying to swoop in. I’m here to tell you I'm sorry. I know I hurt you somehow and I don’t want to keep doing that."
She wipes at her eyes, fresh tears spilling over. She’s hurting bad, acting on pure emotion, and I can see it. But it still cuts. “We’re fine. Really. Just… go. I can’t do this right now.”
Her hand gestures me away as she backs into the house and shuts the door, closing me out. It seems even when I try to do the right thing, it's the wrong thing. I don't know what to do now. All I want is to fix this and save her and my father, and the businesses, and this town. But all I seem to do is make mistakes and get knocked down.
I stand there staring at the door wishing my CO were here to tell me exactly what to do. I'm great at taking orders, even better at blocking out any emotion I'm not supposed to have, but this isn't like being on a mission. Hell, killing people would be easier than this.
I can't read her mind to know what I'm supposed to do, and I can't figure out how to stop Langford from shutting down this town on my own. I'm in a lose-lose situation, drowning on a white river without a life preserver.
I climb into the truck and sit there a long minute, keys in my lap. The cab still carries the faint smell of smoke from being parked next to the job site while the construction burned. I set the unicorn on the passenger seat and rub my face.
Emily is only trying to protect herself right now. I imagine she feels a lot of what I’m feeling—the discouragement and defeat, possibly fear. And maybe her pain is amplified because she started to open her heart to me and I let her down again with circumstances that were outside my control. The only thing I can do is give her space and pray she comes around, because my heart can't handle it if she doesn't. I didn't come home expectingher to be here waiting for me, but when I showed up and found out she was… God, I screwed up.
When I pull away from the curb, I hear my phone buzzing and look down at the screen to see Kyle's name lighting up. I press the hands-free button to answer his call and say, "Yo, Kyle. What's up?"
“Jax. You got a minute?”
“Make it quick, man. Rough week.”
Kyle huffs and says, “You asked me to dig on Langford. Brother, it’s worse than we thought. Victor Langford isn’t just cutting corners. He’s running a full fraud operation. Low-quality materials—cheap rebar, substandard concrete mixes that are already cracking in half a dozen builds. Safety violations stacked high enough to kill somebody someday. But that’s not even the big one."
"Jeez," I grumble, shaking my head. This fucker has got it coming. I hope Kyle got the proof of it. "What else?" I ask, turning toward home.
"He’s taking investor money and government grants, funneling them through a maze of shell companies all tied back to Langford Development Group and laundering, straight up. I’ve got documents on shell LLCs, offshore transfers, the works. This is the kind of proof that can shut him down. But you’ve got to be careful how you use it. This guy’s connected to some dangerous folks, buddy.”
Holy shit, this is just what I was waiting for. If Victor Langford is this dirty, we can push him out of Beaufort for good.
“This is it,” I mumble. “This is what we need.”
“Yeah. But proving it in court? That’s another war. You sitting down?”
I glance at the pink unicorn riding shotgun. “Something like that.”
"Okay, well here's the kicker. There are investigations into three of his shells already, and I bet those investigators would love to hear what I found…"
My mind is already going a million miles an hour. With the mortgage for Dad's home lining up well, I just need to save the business and if I can save his, it means I can save Emily's bakery too. And maybe, just maybe, she'll stop seeing me as the bad guy.
"Get it all printed out or saved on a flash drive. I'm gonna need it ASAP."
"You got it, man." Kyle sounds giddy with himself and I have to say I'm damn proud to call him my brother.
"Thanks, man. You have no clue how much this saved me."
I end the call, but instead of driving home, I go straight toward town center. I'm gonna put a stop to this once and for all, and when I do, Emily will see I really can be here for her.
Because I'm never leaving again, as far as I can help it. And I refuse to let the stigma over my head be the only thing she knows about me.
26
