Page 86 of Lead Me On
Her mouth was still parted in shock when he turned and opened the door. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
“Oh,” Greg said, pausing for a moment, “that guy you’ve been hanging out with? William Chase? I don’t ever want to see you with him again. I don’t want to see you with anyone untilIsay it’s over.”
He tried to slam the door when he walked out, but the pressurized hinge kept the landing soft. What an utterly civilized, polite evisceration.
Lowering herself into her seat, Jane closed her eyes.
What was she going to do? She’d hidden her past for so long that she couldn’t imagine people knowing about it. Now she realized just how much trust she had in Chase. She didn’t like him knowing—not at all—but she’d never truly feared he would expose her to the world.
But Greg? She’d made him feel stupid. First by breaking up with him, then by revealing that she’d lied about who she was. She’d hurt him and used him and he was angry.
It seemed as if the whole world were conspiring to reveal her for who she was. Even her own body was pushing her back toward the past.
She stared at the door. The clock on the far side of the office ticked loudly, the second hand counting down to disaster. What the hell was she going to do?
Just as the question threatened to overwhelm her, an Outlook window popped up on her computer with a little ding. The meeting with the accountant. It was time for her to head over.
She gaped at the computer. Going to this meeting seemed an impossible task in her current mind-set. And yet, as she stared at the familiar shape of the Outlook alert, her frantic pulse slowed. Thiswassomething she could do. She could meet with the accountant for Jennings Architecture. She could do her job. Calm down. Think.
Jane had a big decision to make. Would she continue to run from her past? Or would she turn around and face it?
She had no idea. So in that moment she made an easier decision. She gathered her papers, picked up her purse and headed to see the accountant. Her past would still be there when she returned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE PLEA DEAL WAS ARRANGED. In two days Jessie would plead guilty to ten misdemeanor charges of theft. He’d do nine months in County. He wasn’t going to prison.
And in her family this meant they were having a party.
“Seriously,” Jane muttered to her mother. “This is ridiculous.” Her shoulders burned with tension. The deal wouldn’t be final for two days, and Greg was acting like a wounded bear. He was going to show up at her office the next evening, demanding a date and rabbit sex, and she was going to turn him down. What would that mean for Jessie?
Jane rounded on her mother. “He’s going to jail, Mom. It’s not something to celebrate.”
“You know how close he came to something far worse. We are celebrating, Jane, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Jane glanced over to where her stepdad was carefully coaxing the briquettes to a perfect glow in his grill. He didn’t look happy, but there was a less rigid line to his shoulders. He was relieved. He’d even allowed Jessie to set foot on the property, but only for this special occasion. After he’d served his time, Jessie would have to find his own place to live. Mac would never let him live in his house again.
But for tonight, the men of her family had called a truce. And Jane felt like a traitor in their midst. Did she really have the right to put her nonexistent virtue above Jessie’s future? She’d spent years having sex with men she barely knew. Why was it so hard to consider sex with Greg?
Her gut burned. She wanted to get out of here. At least it wasn’t crowded. Who did one invite to an “our son is going to jail instead of prison!” party, after all? Grandma Olive was there, of course. And Arlo. And that girl named Eve who was apparently a girlfriend of Jessie’s. But his best friends weren’t there, because Mac wouldn’t allow it.
This was her whole family. How could she let them down? She could either sleep with Greg one last time—just enough time to finalize the plea deal—or…
She looked down at the bright green shoots of spring grass poking through the brown mat of dead leaves. Maybe Greg wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Maybe she could turn this around.
For the first time all day her heart beat hard with an emotion that wasn’t fear. She couldn’t stop Greg from ruining her reputation, but she could stop him from ruining her family.
Raising her chin, she looked up to see Mac taking a long swig from his bottle. When she walked closer, the glow of the fire pressed against her skin. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna break down and buy a new grill one of these days.” He’d been saying the same thing for eight years.
“You’re not mad at Mom?”
He shrugged. “She meant well.”
“Regardless, you can still be mad at her.”
He shot her a measuring look. “Yeah, I know that. I’m plenty mad. But she does her best. She’s a good woman.”
