Page 141 of Catching Sparks

It’s been five days since Garrison left, and he hasn’t reached out once. Not after letting me know in only two words that he didn’t want me to reach out either. Surely he didn’t just speak to Ralph.

The old bastard doesn’t bother hiding his disinterest as he replies, “Yesterday. After a phone call I damn well wasn’t expecting. I didn’t appreciate it much either, Poppy. Legal threats were not what I wanted to listen to during breakfast.”

I feel my girls take a step closer, as if sensing the connection I’ve made and how deeply it’s affecting me. A laugh flies up my throat. A real one that surprises everyone in the room.

Giving Ralph my back, I close my eyes and grab Bryce’s hand and then Anna’s. Despite the riptide of emotions inside of me, I try to accept my heartbreak because while Garrison may be gone, there’s no doubt in my mind that he was being honest about loving me. Today proves that once again. Our two months together were beautiful. A gift that I need to treasure instead of wishing had ended differently.

Maybe that’s what he’s doing right now too.

49

GARRISON

My head is clear as I nod for my assistant to let the woman waiting outside the door enter my office. I step out from behind my desk and slide a hand into my slacks, waiting.

The air conditioning pumps into the space at the same low temperature I request during board meetings. I need the cool air on my heated skin right now, perhaps more than I have during any single meeting I’ve had before today.

“Hello, Jocelyn,” I say, keeping my tone strong and even. “Thank you for taking my meeting.”

The singer stares at me with a curious gaze that lacks the judgment I expected to find today. For a twenty-five-year-old pop star, she’s far less cutthroat than I’m used to with our other artists. I have never deserved her kindness.

She smiles softly, the sun beaming through the tall windows behind me and glinting off the metal ring through her bottom lip. Her startling grey eyes lack any sort of lingering anger toward me, and I relax my shoulders slightly.

“Could I have declined the meeting?” she asks.

I keep my face blank despite my amusement with her question. “You could have if you so chose.”

“Good to know.”

With a swipe of my hand toward the two black leather chairs on my left, I say, “Sit, please. Do you want something to drink?”

She sits on one of the chairs and crosses her legs before draping the armpit-length platinum-blonde braid over her front.

“I’m good.”

I nod. “Alright.”

Taking the seat beside hers, I will some moisture into my mouth and clear my throat. I rehearsed my next words over and over until they were memorized as if this were my first speech I’ve ever spoken.

“I know we haven’t spoken since before I left, but I wanted to sit down with you and say thank you before I so much as attempted a proper apology,” I start, clasping my hands in my lap. “You had every right to leave Swift Edge, and I am very grateful that you chose not to. This company means too much to me to describe, but it’s also important to many other people. I’m a slim part of this label’s success, and if you had left, the damage would have been inconceivable.”

“Your thank you isn’t needed, Mr. Beckett. I didn’t make my decision for that,” she says, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“I know.” I nod, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, my head turned so I can still speak directly at her. “But I wanted to say it regardless. That and offer my sincerest apologies for what my lack of action caused. I’m ashamed of myself and know an apology won’t change anything that happened. However, it’s still important for you to hear.”

There’s no sign of the scratches that I know covered her arms and cheek after the attack, but I look for them anyway. Maybe I’m desperate for punishment, or maybe I just want to see what I’ve done so I won’t ever forget it. As if I could, regardless of whether they’re visible or not.

“I accept your apology. You followed through with the deal afterward, and I can’t assume it was easy for you to be without this place while things settled down. In all honesty, I was expecting you to tell me how idiotic it was for me to demand you be held responsible for what happened. You probably could have kicked me from the label,” she says.

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. “Not likely. You are very well loved both in this company and by the public. The outroar of that would have made the accident look like a speck in comparison. I will admit that I was a bit taken aback that one of my artists demanded I disappear for two months, but I would do anything for this company.”

Her brows furrow, and unease causes me to stiffen.

“I didn’t demand you be sent away for two months. Only that you were the one held responsible for this instead of the blame being shifted elsewhere like I’ve seen several times from my previous label. It was Reggie’s suggestion to have you leave. We were extremely happy with the additional offer,” she explains almost timidly, like a child nervous to tell on their friend in front of the principal.

“My father is a meddler,” I say almost to myself.

The reveal isn’t as upsetting today as it would have been months ago. I should be spitting mad with him for lying to me and sending me away when I wanted anything but to leave. But it’s impossible to be angry with him about it now.

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