38. Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-eight

Jake

The other shoe dropped.

After living in a dream with all my girls, growing closer to Clara, watching her bond with Sage, getting all the cuddles I could possibly handle from Nellie, I was flying high. Dinners and sleepovers and dancing to cartoons had me armed to the teeth, so when I walked into my office Tuesday morning, I wasn't as on edge as I normally was. I didn't love this job and never would, but what I had outside these walls more than made up for it.

The thing about finding happiness was it existed on a razor's edge. Without balance, it could have been sliced into ribbons. Lucky for me, and Clara, we did balance each other. It was outside forces we had to worry about.

The woman on the other end of the phone meant less than nothing to me anymore, but she was the last person I'd needed in my ear today—or any day in the future.

"Hello, Jake. Nice to hear your voice."

A chill rattled my spine. I hadn't heard from Andrea in years. Had never expected she'd call me at all, let alone at work.

"Why are you calling me?" I gruffed.

She chuffed. "Straight to the point. Aren't you going to ask me how I am? I'd love to know what Sage is up to."

There was a time I would've taken advantage of this situation to tell Andrea she was a coward who'd broken a little girl's heart, spitting all the vitriol I'd carried around with me for too long, but I had none of that in me anymore. I didn't care about this woman, and she certainly wasn't going to get the gift of hearing about my daughter. As far as I was concerned, she was a stranger and Sage was none of her damn business.

It was easy to keep my voice level. I wasn't mad or upset at this phone call. Why it was happening was all I needed to know, then I'd be hanging up and going back to forgetting she existed.

She. Did. Not. Matter.

"I don't see any reason to chitchat. What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Well"—she cleared her throat, probably trying to gather her composure after I'd shut her down flat—"a story that pertains to you landed in my lap. Actually, Motor Zone, to be specific. My editors are badgering me to run it now, but since we have history, I thought I'd give you a few days' heads-up."

My gut clenched. Andrea reported for Denver Times . Last I'd known, she was writing for the entertainment section, but that'd been years ago. She could've switched up to the business section in that time. What story she could have possibly had, though, I had no idea.

"Are you going to tell me what it is or make me play a hundred questions?"

"You know, Jake, you'd think you'd be a little nicer since I'm doing you a favor."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, summoning my patience. "If you expect me to do a little dance for you to spill your supposed story, you're barking up the wrong tree. Either tell me or don't."

"Oh, you'll want to know."

"All right. Then spill."

She did. Like an oil tanker in the sea, covering everything good with thick, deadly sludge. I fell back in my chair, covering my face with one hand as everything we'd worked for got shoved to the precipice of a cliff. One word from Andrea, one article in her paper, would send us over.

I made myself play nice for the rest of the call. Told her Sage was fine. Everything was fine. Even thanked her for her call. When she asked if Jeremy or I would give her a quote, I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing at her sheer audacity. By the time I hung up, my head was throbbing, and I had blood in my mouth.

I did not let any of that stop me from vaulting from my chair and storming down the hall to Jeremy's office. What did stop me was the sight of my brother in a meeting with two of our lawyers, our head of PR, and Roman fucking Wells.

Jeremy was always put together. Suits immaculate, hair neatly combed, ties tucked neatly at his throat. Today, he looked like he'd been through the wringer. At least a day's worth of stubble on his jaw, hair everywhere, tie loosened. And when he looked up at me, it was with wide-eyed panic.

I fell back a step, recoiling from the scene like I'd been shot. "You know."

He shot to his feet. "Jake, wait. Join us. I'll explain what's going on."

"Funny, I just found out and came to tell you." I gestured to the others in the room. The lawyers, I got. PR too. But Roman Wells? There was no reason for him to be privy to this, not when I wasn't. "I see you didn't extend the same courtesy to me."

"I was going to tell you today." Jeremy stood in front of me, his hand on my shoulder. "I needed to figure out how to get ahead of this."

How did we get ahead of a recording of MZ's spokesperson for the last five years, country singer and all-American dad Dallas Fox, saying some of the most racist, misogynist, vile things I'd ever heard? There was no spinning this as "locker room talk." And I wouldn't be a part of a company that tried.

I shrugged him off. "When did you find out?"

"Yesterday. We've been working on a plan. How to distance ourselves from this so the Rossi deal doesn't fall through."

The one we were supposed to be signing at the end of the week. Jeremy was practically salivating to put his signature on the contracts. His desperation had me on edge, making me wonder if there was a lot more he wasn't telling me.

"You can't be serious, thinking about the Rossi deal. Dallas Fox needs to be removed from MZ swiftly and decisively." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Andrea Wallace has the story."

"Fuck." He was the one to fall back a step this time. "She called you?"

I nodded once. "She's holding the story as a courtesy to me, but there's no stopping this from running. It's going to come out."

"Okay, okay." His head bobbed somewhat maniacally. "We can handle this. As soon as we sign the deal, we'll fire Dallas."

"No. That doesn't work for me. We're not entering a partnership by deceiving them."

Roman approached us like he had a right to be part of our conversation. "Jake is right, Jeremy. We'll have to handle the Dallas situation before we can sign with Rossi. If you don't disclose this to them, they'll have you in court faster than you could say the word."

I turned on him, my jaw tight. "Why are you here?" Swiveling to Jeremy, I asked, "Why is he here?"

Roman did not wait for Jeremy to speak. "I was in a meeting with Jeremy when he received the news, and I've promised MZ the use of my PR team. They are well versed in handling crises and working on a plan as we speak. By the end of the day tomorrow, we will go to the press with a statement disavowing everything Dallas had been recorded saying and end our professional relationship with him."

I didn't like his use of "our," like he was part of MZ, but he was. He owned a large portion of this company. His dog was very much in this fight.

I chose not to ask why I hadn't been brought in yesterday. It didn't matter. The betrayal was absolute. Wrapping my head around my brother knowing where my line in the sand was and stepping it over anyway would have to come at another time. Once we were through this, I'd have to decide what that meant for us—for me. But not until we managed this crisis.

"When are you planning to tell Luca?" I asked.

Jeremy shook his head. "Not until we know our next steps."

"After our statement comes out," Roman stated in a tone brooking no argument. Except, I was feeling a hell of a lot like arguing.

"I think he'd appreciate hearing it personally," I said.

"He will. I'll call him," Jeremy assured me. "I can't go to him now. Not with everything up in the air. We need to have a solid plan so he understands this is under control."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Dread clawed at my throat. "Delaying leaves room for anything to happen."

Roman inserted himself again. "I agree with Jeremy."

My jaw rippled. This fucking guy. As far as I'd been aware, there wasn't a third Hayes brother, but he sure acted like there was. "I'd rather keep this professional between us, so I'm asking you to step back and let me speak to my brother."

He held up his hands. "I'll leave you to it."

Roman rejoined the rest of the team across the room. We didn't have much privacy, but it was better than him interjecting every other sentence.

"Roman knows what he's doing," Jeremy started.

"That's comforting," I intoned. "When this is over, we're going to talk."

He nodded once. "I know. Give me a day. I need to get a grasp on this."

"One day," I warned.

He put his hand on my shoulder again. "That means you can't tell Clara about this. It has to stay between us, just until tomorrow."

Funny enough, my focus had been so single-minded, Clara's part hadn't occurred to me. Now that it had and he was asking me to keep it from her, a bitter taste blossomed in my mouth.

"I don't lie to Clara."

"It's not a lie," he hurried out. "It's a delay. One day, Jake. I know you're mad as hell at me, and maybe I've lost you, but I need this. MZ needs it. I'm asking you, as my brother, to give me this. One day to get ahead of it."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. But then I thought of him, solid by my side while I told our dad I was becoming a father at seventeen. I thought of when he'd started staying summers at our ranch, the way he'd shrunk away from physical contact and loud noises because he'd been used to cold and quiet. Then I thought of him being sent back alone to the cold after living in the warmth with me for two months. He'd never held it against me. Had always had time for me. Had looked out for me when our father was on the warpath.

I couldn't say no. Not when he rarely asked for anything. This, one day…it didn't seem like much.

"One day." There was finality in my statement. I would not back down from it, no matter what happened in the next twenty-four hours. This concession was the length my brotherly loyalty stretched. It would go no further.

"Thank you, Jake." He squeezed my shoulder. "If you want to sit in on our meeting, I—"

I shook my head. "I want nothing to do with this. Any of it," I spat in disgust. "Just excise Dalla Fox's poison from MZ. That's all I need to know."

"It'll be done."

I believed that. But at what cost?