“What did you miss?” she asks.
“I missed everything,” I tell her honestly. “And by the time I truly saw my ex-husband for what he was, I wasn’t sure how to get out of it.”
Janelle’s expression is flush with sympathy, and I can see additional curiosity there as well. I don’t want her to know the awful details because they’re not only frightening, but it’s humiliating that I put up with Jace’s abuse.
But I tell her what’s important. “The point is, when things got bad, I fought for myself. Even though it was scary, I got out of a terrible situation, and I never looked back.”
“Did he want the divorce too?” Janelle asks.
“No, he didn’t,” I admit. “He fought me every step of the way, but he didn’t have enough power to stop it.”
“And you got lots of money out of it, so you won,” she points out cheerily, perhaps needing to put a happy spin on my life.
“I didn’t win,” I say with a sad smile. “I lost so much.”
“I don’t understand,” she replies, and I realize we’ve somehow gotten into very deep territory. It’s not a place I meant to go, nor do I want to bring Janelle down.
But I also can’t leave her hanging. I learned a lesson, and I want to impart it to her.
Moving around the counter, I stand before Janelle. She turns to face me. “I told you I lost a lot, right?”
She nods solemnly.
“I’d give up every dime I have right now to get one second of it back.”
“Get what back?” she asks.
“My dignity. My self-respect. Time with my family I lost because Jace wouldn’t let me visit them. I lost myself for a long time, and I’ll never let that happen again.”
“I’m sorry,” she says gently, as if the words might hurt.
But they don’t. They’re sweet like Janelle, and I reach out to brush a lock of hair back that has fallen free of her ponytail. “You’re a reader, and you know every good story has a moral. And the moral of this one is, don’t ever let anyone treat you badly. Don’t ever accept that as normal. Don’t ever believe that love can coexist with abuse, because it can’t. Have the strength to never go there, and if you do go there by mistake, have the strength to walk away. Got it?”
“Got it,” she says with a sound nod.
“Now,” I say with a bright smile, “let’s get to work. We have post-Christmas sales going on, and I expect lots of customers today.”
CHAPTER 8
Riggs
I’m not sure why I’m doing this, but I’m going to chalk it up to fulfilling my obligations as a big brother and custodian of Janelle’s welfare.
I’m going to check out the bookstore where Janelle works, and get a better look at things.
It’s my duty, after all.
I mean, Aaron is trustworthy, which means Clarke is trustworthy, and I’m sure she’ll take great care of my sister. But that Veronica is questionable, in my opinion, and she has a direct influence on Janelle since she’s the one training her.
And the one who vomited Christmas all over my condo, although admittedly, it made Janelle happy, so that’s what counts.
I’m not sure why that woman rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning, but it’s piqued my interest enough to find the answer.
You know… purely from a protective brother standpoint.
Nothing at all to do with the fact she’s been plaguing my thoughts, and I may have ruminated one too many times on the way she looked in my T-shirt. My conscience may have been rubbed raw by her assertions that I wasn’t doing right by my sister, which is probably why I don’t like the woman, but still…
I need to know more.
With only five minutes until quitting time, I figure I’m not being intrusive when I walk into the bookstore, my entrance announced by bells over the door. I glance around and note a few things right off the bat.
First, there aren’t any other customers, and I’m not sure if that’s because it’s almost closing or Clarke doesn’t have much business, but neither one is my problem.
Second, I don’t see Clarke or Janelle but instead lock eyes on Veronica, perched atop a step stool feather dusting knickknacks on a high shelf.
“I’ll be with you in a second,” she says brightly without taking her eyes off her task.
Which I imagine is a safety precaution given she’s perched on the top step wearing what have to be four-inch, black patent leather heels, along with a formfitting dress in a deep red that stops right at her knees. To reach the uppermost shelf, she’s on her tiptoes, which highlights her toned calves, and while she’s got her attention elsewhere, I do a slow perusal upward, noticing every fucking curve under that dress.
Christ. I rub my hand over my face and search blindly around the store for Janelle so I can grab her and we can get out of here.
“Oh,” Veronica says in a dull voice, and my eyes snap back her way. I find her looking over her shoulder at me in displeasure. “It’s you.”
She’s impolite, bordering on rude. I kind of want to kick the side of the step stool to make it wobble.
Of course, I’d be there to catch her and—
Jesus fuck, dude. Stop thinking like that.
“I’m here for Janelle.” My tone is lazy and disinterested in her disinterest in me.
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t assume you were here to see me,” she replies blandly and somehow manages to descend elegantly in those heels. I have to bury my hands in my pockets to not offer gentlemanly assistance, but I stand at the ready with catlike reflexes should she fall. When she reaches the ground, she pivots to face me, lips pressed flat. “She’s in the back, straightening up the stockroom. I’ll go get her.”
“No bother,” I reply, looking down at my watch as if to verify I have time to wait, knowing I do. I have no plans tonight other than to take Janelle out for dinner. “Let her finish up.”
Veronica inclines her head in acknowledgment and turns away from me without another word. She walks—no, sashays in that painted-on dress with high heels—to the counter and steps around it. I note it’s not merely the dress and heels, but the entire package. She’s wearing large diamond studs in her ears, a diamond bracelet, and diamond rings. I can’t tell the brand of watch on her left wrist, but I can tell it’s expensive. I have to wonder why a woman who obviously has plenty of money is working in a bookstore.
I also have to wonder why I care. This woman shouldn’t interest me at all. And yet, I find myself prodding. “Is Janelle underdressed for the job?” I ask.
Veronica frowns and drawls, “No. Is there a reason you ask?”
I wave my hand in her general direction. “It’s just… the way you’re dressed… I wondered.”
Veronica’s frown deepens and she glances down at herself, then back to me. “The way I’m dressed?”
“All fancy and shit,” I reply with a smirk.
“All fancy and shit,” she repeats my words, except her cool tone and icy stare tell me I’ve offended.
“Yup,” I affirm with a wicked smile.