6. Jessica

6

JESSICA

M y heart pounded so hard it felt like it was trying to beat its way up my throat. I tasted blood from biting the inside of my cheek hard. I felt like a trapped, very frightened rabbit. Only worse, rabbits know how to run and maybe kick their way out of a situation. I couldn't do any of that.

I kept backing up, trying to get away, but Ryan was right there. He kept coming toward me, trying to touch me.

"You need to go. I'm not like that anymore," I said. My legs hit a chair, and I stumbled. I tried to grab onto the chair to keep from falling. I stayed upright, but the chair tipped.

He laughed when I tripped over the chair, and his hand on my arm felt like scalding hot needles stabbing into my flesh. I hated that he was here, that he was speaking to me, that he saw me being scared.

"Don't touch me." I wish I had the strength and fortitude to wrench my arm away from him and to yell. I could barely get the words out of my throat. At least I wasn't crying.

"It was good to see you, Jess. I think running into you might just be the best thing to happen in a while." He smirked and turned to leave.

I shook so hard I could hardly get my legs to properly move. I didn't want to know what Ryan meant. I wanted to be ignorant of his motives or what that smirk meant. But I wasn't. I knew what he thought he had just "lucked" into.

But that wasn't the situation. I wouldn't betray the Anderson family. He couldn't make me. I didn't work for him, and I certainly didn't love him anymore. I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran down the hall, trying to escape him and my past.

"Jessica? Are you all right?"

I looked up to see Mrs. Anderson slowly making her way down the hall, leaning heavily on an aluminum frame walker. Clara was a pace behind, glaring at the world.

"Should you be up?" I asked.

I had never seen her up and walking. Oh, I had seen her move slowly about in her rooms, but I thought she was a medical recluse.

"I am allowed out of my room. My doctor encouraged me to take small walks when I can. It looks so lovely outside. I thought I'd like to take in some fresh air and the sunshine. Come with me."

I fell into pace next to her.

"Has my son come back from his morning golf?" she asked.

"Yes, he's back. He has a friend with him," I answered.

"Not a friend, a business crony. I suspect they were doing that networking thing."

"Not a friend?" I asked. A sense of relief evaporated from the surface of my skin. So, Mr. Anderson—Dylan—wasn't friends with Ryan. That was good to know.

Mrs. Anderson stopped moving. She looked like she was focusing or maybe struggling. I reached out a hand to place on her back and glanced nervously at Clara.

Clara just glared at me.

Mrs. Anderson took a shaky breath and then seemed recovered enough to continue. "Walking can be tiring."

"Do you need to go back or sit down?" I asked. Why wasn't Clara helping her?

"If I sit down or go back, I wouldn't get outside to see the sun."

"I wish I had half of your tenacity," I admitted.

She laughed. "If I gave you half of mine, I wouldn't be up and about against Clara's wishes. Why do you need tenacity, Jessica?"

I let out a bitter chuckle. "Self-preservation. I haven't been the best at standing up for myself over the years."

Mrs. Anderson stopped walking again, only this time, she twisted sharply to look at me. "Has my son said or done anything?"

"No, ma'am. In my past. I've had bad situations with the people I've worked for and dated. I could have used more fortitude in my youth. Your son is a perfect gentleman and employer. He keeps telling me to call him Dylan, and I can't quite bring myself to do so."

"He calls you Jessica. I don't see why you shouldn't call him Dylan. I quite like his name. After all, I gave it to him. You should use it. And honey, you are still in your youth. Trust me."

There was a harrumph from behind us. Clara clearly did not approve. I might have to agree with her this one time.

There was another reason I didn't want to switch from ‘Mr. Anderson' to ‘Dylan'. When I had started working for Ryan, I called him Mr. Carmichael. It felt like a familiar slippery slope from a work relationship into a relationship that had nothing to do with work. Not that Dylan wasn't an attractive man, and if our situations were different and if I had met him at a bar or something… but I worked for him. I was his son's nanny.

We continued to walk slowly. She stopped before a large floor to ceiling window that was framed in heavy drapes. I thought she wanted to go outside, not just look outside. But maybe a different view from what she got from her room was what she needed. I moved to shift the drapes, to make more light come in, when I discovered a handle. "This is a door," I announced.

"I know," Mrs. Anderson said with a smile in her voice.

"I thought it was a window." I opened the door and held it open as she slowly made her way outside and onto a small balcony. Before I could step out with her, the baby monitor in my pocket began to squeak with noise. "Max is awake. I need to go. Enjoy the sunshine."

Clara was muttering with that same sour look on her face as I left.

I walked across the house to Max's room. Why was Ryan here? I didn't know exactly what Dylan did for a living. I knew he was the CEO of his company, but what that company did, I had no idea.

But I did know what Ryan did. He liked to scam people. Half of anything he did was to make a bigger buck. The actual work was legal, but sometimes, his methods of getting people to make the decisions he wanted them to make were not very legal. And even if they were legal, they weren't moral.

"I woke up," Max said as soon as I walked into his room. He was already out of bed, sitting on the floor looking through a picture book, his stuffed toy next to him.

"Yes, you did."

"Can I have a snack?" he asked.

"You just woke up," I pointed out.

"I woke up hungry. I'm a growing boy."

I had to laugh. He was a growing boy, and every time he ate a big meal or overslept, that's what I told him. "Yes, you can have a snack."

I made sure he used the bathroom and washed his hands. There was a chance his grandmother was still on her little walk.

"If you see Nana, you need to be good and don't run and grab and hug her. She was taking a walk, but she's very wobbly on her feet."

Max nodded, and I trusted him to behave. I didn't trust my nerves to survive if Ryan was still out there, but I would fake it for Max's sake.

But it was like no one was in the house. Mrs. Anderson was already back in her room, and the kitchen was completely empty. I let out a hard, long breath. Hopefully, that meant that Ryan was also gone.

I helped Max climb up on a tall chair as I looked through cupboards, asking Max what he wanted to eat. "Apples? How about a banana?"

"Cookies."

"No cookies. You need something healthy. You can have fruit, or how about some carrots and dip?" The kid loved hummus, and the cook stocked the fridge with little mini cups of hummus that were perfect for him.

"Chips?"

I sighed and turned to face him. Would it really be so bad if I gave him chips?

The door opened and I jumped. I turned to see Dylan step inside.

"Daddy!" Max wiggled his way off the chair.

"Hey, buddy!" Dylan crouched down and swung Max up into his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Getting a snack."

"What are you going to have?"

"Cookies!" Max said with conviction and enthusiasm.

I shook my head. "Not cookies, Max. Is your guest still here?" I asked. I tightened my gut and looked over Dylan's shoulder. I really didn't want to see Ryan again, but I braced just in case.

"I was just seeing him off."

I let out my breath and dropped my shoulders, allowing my stomach muscles to relax. I didn't have time to relax further. My phone rang with a text. I read the first line and my gut clenched.

"Is everything okay, Jessica?" Dylan asked.

I shoved the phone into my pocket. "Yeah. Why don't you figure out what Max wants—not cookies. I'll be right back."

I dashed out of the kitchen before I pulled my phone back out and read the full text.

Jess, what a pleasure to see you today. You are looking well. I miss you and think about when we were together all the time. I think you need to meet me tomorrow. Monterey Hilton, lounge, after dinner drinks. Would hate to have to give your new boss a character reference letting him know about you. Text me with a time.

I thought I had blocked his number years ago. Could his number have been unblocked in my contacts when I upgraded my phone? Did it really matter? Ryan had my phone number because I hadn't been smart enough to get a new one after everything. And now, that was clearly a threat to expose my past mistakes to Dylan.

Dylan would surely believe Ryan and think I was some kind of spy. That I was here to find out his secrets. It wasn't a far-fetched concept. After all, I had done something similar in the past.

I typed in a return message. I'll be there.