Page 36 of Free to Breathe
“You’ll never have the kind of honor she does. She’s everything, and that just pisses you off, doesn’t it? That’s even with your prestigious degrees, she’s still better than you.”
Jack flings his arms across his desk, my letters to Corinna flying into a mess on the floor. “I’m sure as shit better than that slut.”
I shake my head in disgust. “I was trying to be her friend. Not because that was all I wanted, but that was all I knew I could have. You knew this. What made you do it, Jack?”
“You said your family would never accept her.” His voice is matter-of-fact.
“And in all the time you’ve known me, have I ever once done anything to make you think I give a damn about what my family thinks?” My voice is dripping in bitterness. “Did you think I would one day want to go back into that life and what? Take you along with me?” The twitching by his eyes gives him away. I reach over and grab him by the collar. “For a smart guy, you’re a fucking moron, Jack.” I release his collar, and he falls back in the chair behind him.
I start to make my way to the office door.
“Colby!” Jack calls out right before I pass through the doorway. I pause. “Don’t you want to bring her the letters?”
“I think the man who held them from her for so many years needs to give her the explanation why he did, don’t you?” I grate out. Lord knows right now she’d never believe me if I told her the truth.
“I…I don’t know…” Jack stammers.
“I do,” I say firmly. “Otherwise, that person might be wondering what kind of other things I’ll find when I start digging.” As Jack starts sputtering, I shrug. “The other night you asked me whose life I wanted to dig into, Jack. Now, I know the answer. Make certain she gets those letters.”
Jack growls. Slowly he stands and begins gathering my letters off the floor and putting them back into the box.
I barely make it out of his waiting room before I fall back against the wall with a huge sigh. I wonder at how much of the dark I see in Corinna’s eyes I could have prevented if she’d seen those letters. Even if it meant she realized her true self-worth and left me behind and found someone she could have loved.
Even if that person wasn’t me.
19
Corinna
“What do you mean, Jack?” I’m holding a heavy photo box. I’m late to the family dinner I requested because I received a call from Colby’s old friend Jack O’Brien. He told me he needed to see me because of an emergency. Despite the fact I despise him, I assumed it was something to do with Colby. I agreed to meet him because I assumed my family would want to know.
What on earth is in this box that could constitute an emergency? The only crisis I can deal with is the one I’m about to face down at the farm. The one where I finally tell my family I have to have brain surgery.
Jack’s face contorts as he runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Jack?” I question warily.
“There are letters in there,” he bites out, pacing back and forth. I tilt my head to the side. Funny, I never noticed how many mannerisms he picked up from Colby over the years. Shaking my head from the stray thought, I tune back in to find Jack glaring at me—a typical look on his aristocratic features.
“From who?” I’m so confused. I place the box on the counter behind me and sit down on a barstool.
“Why should you be the one he chooses? Fucking bitch. Did you think I wouldn’t fight to protect my brother?” Jack thumps his hand over his heart, letting it linger. Brother? Colby always told me Jack was an only child. Then again, I refer to my brother and sisters as such and we’re not blood related.
Has Jack’s hatred toward me stemmed from something other than just me being me?
Like a bolt of lightning, the knowledge flashes through me. “Colby. The letters are from Colby.”
“Yes,” he sneers.
It’s a good thing I’m sitting because I probably would have fallen down. The sheer heft of that box indicates Colby had written to me for a long time. God only knows how long. No wonder why he kept trying to insinuate himself back into my life.
I jump to my feet with such force the stool I’m sitting on clatters to the ground. “How long, Jack? How long have you been hiding these?” I demand. I shove my finger into his shoulder.
Jack’s face sets in a stubborn line. “A while.”
Another man screwing me over. What a surprise. “It’s better if you tell me the truth, Jack.”
“You’ll know the minute you open the first envelope.” His sigh of disgust revolts me.
“Longer than a year?” He nods. “Five?” Another nod. “Ten?” I barely breathe out the word.
