His dream was for me to take over, but what good is living if you're not happy? He had my mother, and he knew what it felt like to love and be loved. He'd never want me to miss out on that.
She's gone. I'm going to have to live with her choice. Jenna chose money over me.
It stings to think she only knows success as green pieces of paper and ornate jewelry. She's been conditioned to think being rich is more important than being happy. But love can't be bought or sold, it can't be packaged or designed.
I'll never be happy without her. Her being here has shown me that. I never got over her. I never let go of her. And after having her, after holding her and kissing her, it'll never wash away.
'Do what makes you happy.' My father's voice plays in my head.
Running my thumb over my bottom lip, there's a knock at the door. From the window I can see the man fix his hair in his reflection on the glass storm door. He licks his fingers, brushing a few strands back into place. Adjusting his suit, he straightens his back, trying to look taller.
These people will never go away. They're like sharks constantly circling prey. They'll keep coming back over and over again. If it isn't Troy, it'll be someone else the next time. Another corporation, another rich asshole whose greed will outweigh their humanity.
Do what makes me happy. Jenna makes me happy, and there's only one way to get her back.
Forcing myself up, I crack the door. “Yeah?” I ask.
“Mr. Jamison?”
“Yeah, that's me.”
“I'm Craig Vernon from Blackstone Reality,” he says, holding out his hand.
Pulling the door open wider, I push the storm door out and take his hand. “What can I do for you?” I ask.
I know what he wants, but I'll let him do his thing. I'm sure he spent the entire morning running what he's going to say through his head over and over.
“Mr. Jamison, I'd like to talk to you about your farm, if that’s all right?” He lifts his briefcase and taps it with his knuckles. “I think I've got something that might make your day.”
“Please, call me Ryder. Mr. Jamison was my father.” Taking a step out of the way, I invite him in. “We can talk in my office.”
12
Jenna
“Mom?” My voice is rattling in the back of my throat as I try to hold it together. I'm on my way to the airport, but I'm not handling it very well. I can't stop crying, and breathing is a struggle.
Her voice comes through the speakers in the car, and I hear the same flat tone as usual. “Jenna, where are you? Are you on your way home?”
“Yes,” I say, the words coming out cracked and broken. “Have you talked to Troy? Did he tell you?”
“Tell me what?” she asks. She's fumbling with something, I can tell. She isn't paying attention at all.
“He's making me come back, he threatened to cut me off. He didn't tell you anything? Nothing at all?”
“Oh, don't worry about him. It's probably just one of his moods.” Brushing away my frantic question, she says, “You know how he works.”
There's a pop and fizz in the background. She's drinking. Again. I'm not sure if she drinks to drown out life, or if it's just because she has nothing else to do. I don't remember the last time I've seen her without a glass in her hand.
“Mom, please, I'm trying to talk to you. Can't you listen for once?”
I can hear her take a sip of her drink. She exhales into the phone and lets out a soft sigh. “Oh, Jenna, stop being dramatic. You know how Troy gets when he wants something. This is no different.”
“He said would stop paying for my schooling, that he'd disown me completely.”
“Well, what do you want me to say? I can't make choices for him, Jenna. You know that.” She smacks her lips, swallowing hard. “So, should I be expecting you home soon or not? I've got a hair appointment at six, so I'm not going to sit around and wait. I'll send the car to the airport. Just tell me what time.”
“Forget it,” I say, hanging up on her.
My mother's been poisoned by this world.
She's turned into a person I don't recognize anymore. She isn't my mother. She's some weird extension of Troy, and I don't like it. A little compassion, maybe a little emotion or anger over how he's treating her daughter would be nice.
Tears are pouring from my eyes. I can't see the road, so I pull over into the breakdown lane and park the car. Holding the steering wheel, I lay my head on it as I cry uncontrollably.
What the hell am I doing? What is going on with me?
Sitting up, I take a deep breath, running my hands over my head and pulling my hair back tight against my scalp.
I'll call Meg. She'll listen.
Scrolling through my phone, I open my messages and see the pictures and texts from my friends. Flipping through image after image, I'm met with fake smiles, fake laughs, fake everything.
None of these people are real. Most of my friends aren't really my friends at all. They're questioning why I'm still here in the messages, why I would lower myself to stay any longer than necessary.
These people are not who I thought they were. They don't really care about me at all, they only care about how much money I have.
My stomach twists as the realization settles in my gut like a heavy weight. I'm not one of them. I never was and I never will be. I see that now. Ryder has given me the gift of sight. I've been blind for too long.
Troy never cared for me, but Ryder did.
My friends only see worth, where Ryder sees character.
What the fuck am I doing?
Why am I running back to a world that doesn't want me, when I have a life that's been waiting for me all this time?
I feel so stupid for not seeing it sooner. All those years of suppressing memories and acting like one life is better than the other has pulled a veil over my eyes. But not anymore.
Turning the wheel hard, I make a U-turn in the street, hitting the gas. I can't pretend anymore. What I feel inside is too strong to ignore.
Ryder is the only person who loves me for me. Nothing in the world can replace that. No amount of money can ever give me what he gives me. Because with him, I'm truly alive. I have real worth.
Whipping into the driveway, I stop the car, and jump out. Rushing into his house, I go from room to room. I'm not sure where he is, but the other car outside tells me my step-father wasn't lying. The rep is here.
Throwing the door open to his office, Ryder is at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him. The man is pointing at a line on the bottom of the page and Ryder has a pen in his hand.
“Jenna?” he asks in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Don't do it. Don't sell this farm, Ryder.”
“What?”
“You can't do it. You love this place, it's too beautiful and incredible to let it go. You can't do it. I won't let you. I'll do anything and everything I can to help you keep this farm. For you, for your sister, for your family's legacy. I can't let you sell it, especially to someone like Troy. He doesn't deserve something so beautiful and special. There's no way he'll ever appreciate it for what it is.”