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He opened his arms and Brittani stepped back in for another hug, this one longer and truer than the first. This was the hug he remembered.
"God, I missed you guys," Jake whispered against her hair.
"I'm so sorry I didn't push harder. I didn't know. Then again, there were a lot of years that I wasn't aware of a whole lot."
He leaned back to look at her—her eyes clear and full of emotion, body thin but strong. He hoped the past tense meant she had battled her demons and won.
"How are you now?" he asked.
"I'm good. I've got one year of sobriety coming up."
"I'm glad to hear that. I wish I had been able to help sooner."
"Well you can help me now. This reunion, I'm planning it in honor of my first sober year. I want to raise awareness of what I went through, and raise money for the group that saved me. I need…" Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard. "I need to take a positive step back in front of the cameras that tried to break me. I need to know that I can. And more than that, if I can help someone else avoid my path or see a way out of it, I need to do that too." She squared her shoulders as she spoke, making her pitch and standing up for herself.
Puzzle pieces that for years had refused to make sense were still shifting and settling into a complete picture in his head. But he knew in his heart what the final picture would be. If there was a chance his family hadn't abandoned him, then he had years of catching up to do. And this cause, this triumph of will, was the perfect reason to push past his own insecurities and try again. The idea that he might regain what he'd lost and had spent a lifetime trying to replace was tempting as hell.
"I have two questions. One, when do you need me? And two—" He hesitated as she hugged him with a happy squeal. "Do you think they can forgive me?"
"One, we're filming next weekend. And two, there is nothing to forgive. Listen, when I was at my lowest, I didn't turn to my parents. I called Martin. He picked me up, opened his home to me, helped hook me up with the Sisters of Solace. He said he was glad I had turned to him, and that he would always be there for me. I know he still loves you too, Jake. Come to the reunion show and find out."
"I will. You can count on me. I know I haven't shown it, but—"
She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "We've lost enough years to regret. To fresh starts." She tapped her glass of club soda against his flute and grinned.
"To fresh starts."
* * *
Frankie leaned on her elbows,champagne going flat and warm in the glass she held suspended over the railing. She'd been doing so well. After three hours of small talk and fake smiles, she had managed to stay on her best behavior. For a split second, she'd let herself believe she could fit into his world.
She had tucked away observations to laugh over with Jake later. She hadn't tripped on her freaking dress or spilled her wine. When Wilder Malone had stepped behind her in the buffet line and complimented her comedic work on MDash, she'd returned the favor, gushing over his Hall of Fame chances and quoting his career stats. When he'd suggested crossover opportunities between their shows, she kept her cool and said she'd think about it. Why had her words deserted her with the president of the freaking network?
She knew. The reality of Jake moving on had punched her right in the heart and shattered her inner composure. She was happy he'd be getting what he'd worked so hard for, but damn, it sucked for her. She'd gone and fallen for him. She loved the asshole, and he was thrilled to be moving on.
It was her own damn fault. She should've kept her walls up.
She turned to see the first of the fireworks bursting over the marina. The bright explosions of gunpowder and patriotism did little to calm her inner battle. The way each blast rattled through her chest was oddly satisfying though, if only because it distracted her from her aching heart.
She was so focused on ignoring what was going on inside that the hand on her shoulder startled her, and she did spill her champagne. Right down the front of her dress.
"Damn it!" She brushed ineffectually at the stain spreading down the bodice of the gown that had cost half of her rent.
Jake laughed. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
But hewasscaring her. She'd thought she could trust him. She'd all but handed him her heart on a platter. This evening, seeing him in his natural habitat, had her doubting her judgment there.
"Did I see Wilder talking to you?"
"Yeah, he came by to say he loves the show and wants to do a crossover episode."
"That's great!" Jake gushed, and then paused, searching her face for clues. "Isn't that great?"
"Sure, it's great." Frankie tried to muster enthusiasm, but clearly failed because Jake was still staring. "I mean, I don't know why you'd be excited about it. It's not like you'll be around to set it up." She watched his face as she tossed in that last bit. Itlookedlike pain on his face. Back home, she'd probably have believed she had truly hurt his feelings. But seeing him here, surrounded by all of these fake people he called friends, she wondered instead how good an actor he still was. Was she being played? The rest of his words were drowned out by the fireworks.
Frankie deliberately turned her attention back to the violent bursts of sound and light. Better to keep her thoughts on the ones turning the harbor into a stunning watercolor than focus on the ones exploding inside her chest.
As the patriotic display reached a crescendo, so did the sob she'd been trying to keep trapped in her throat. Quiet tears chased down her cheeks. All of her earlier bravado gone, she pressed her palms to her face and tried not to think about anything at all.
