Chapter Twenty-Five

Phoebe

A week later...

The keys were mine.

Looking about as I walked around my new business, I couldn't wait to get started. I had everything planned out to the finest detail. When I decided on my route, I wanted something that would make me happy. A place where I could help people create beautiful, wonderful memories.

A place where people could come and experience pure joy.

I figured if I couldn't have joy, then I was going to spend the rest of my life ensuring and helping others find theirs, and the only way I knew to do that was with a dance studio.

Some of my happiest memories were when Shaw twisted and twirled me around the floor, holding me, kissing me while he taught me to dance. In another life, Shaw could have been a professional dancer. He was that good.

His mother had taught him well.

Now, I wanted to teach others what I'd learned.

But before I could do any of that, I needed to remodel this place, and to do that I needed the best architect and construction crew around.

"You know, when you called me, I thought it was going to be a date, not a business meeting," Jake said, startling me.

Spinning around, I sighed. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I know." He grinned, looking directly at me. "You were lost in dreamland again."

"Thank you for coming."

"I will always come when you call, Pheebs. You know that."

"Jake," I whispered, when he slowly approached. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I only called you because I wanted to talk to you about some renovations."

Taking my hands in his, he brought them to his lips and smirked. "No. You brought me here so you can make your husband jealous."

Removing my hands, I frowned. "That's not true."

Jake chuckled. "It's alright, Pheebs. I get it, and while I always believed you were too good for Shaw, he won."

"I'm not a prize, Jake."

"No, you're not. You are a woman who isn't valued. I think moving on is the best decision you've ever made. Shaw is nothing but a selfish ass, Pheebs. You have to know that. All he cares about is himself, and you enabled him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, babe," Jake scoffed. "You know this. From the moment he saw you, he manipulated his way into your life. Shaw is nothing more than a narcissistic asshole. Thinking he was that damn good. Fuck, I didn't think his head could get any bigger after the FBI recruited him. Asshole snubbed us all, treated us like we were beneath him. Even you have to admit, Shaw got too big for his britches."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Jake was one of Shaw's oldest friends. They were going to join the military together before the FBI stepped in. Shaw didn't alienate anyone. It wasn't as if Shaw could talk about what he was doing. The FBI ordered him to keep quiet. Jake didn't understand the tremendous strain Shaw had been under. In fact, Shaw wanted nothing to do with the FBI or the case he helped them with. He tried several times to get them to let him go. The only reason he was able to break free was because of what happened to me.

They knew they couldn't keep him anymore.

Shaking my head, I whispered, "You know nothing, Jake."

"Oh, I know plenty." The man smirked. "That stupid copy-cat case he was working on. Turns out he wasn't the golden boy the Bureau thought he was. He couldn't even find your attacker. But don't worry. I'm here now and I won't let anything happen to you."

"Excuse me?" I gasped, just as the doors opened and in walked Banks and Hawk, along with Cameron.

"Hey, Phoebe!" Cameron smiled, running over to me. "Can I, please!"

Staring at Jake, I couldn't believe what he'd just said to me.

I'd never heard him be so crass, so belligerent before.

It was a shock, to say the least.

"Did you hear me, Phoebe?" Cameron asked, tugging on my skirt, getting my attention. Looking at the man standing before me, I nodded as my mind tried to make sense of what he'd said.

"I'm sorry, Cam. I wasn't listening."

"I'll catch up with you later, babe," Jake said, quickly kissing my cheek before heading for the door. "We can talk over dinner tonight."

I stood there, stunned, unable to move, and muttered, "Sure. Okay."

"Earth to Phoebe!" Cameron shouted, waving his hands around to garner my attention.

Blinking a few times, I looked down at the little boy.

"Yes."

"You okay, Pheebs?" Banks frowned, gazing at me. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I don't know."

"Well, can I?" Cameron huffed impatiently.

Taking a deep breath, I looked at the impertinent boy and asked, "Can you what?"

"Can I spend the day with you? I can't think with those two following me around all day. I got plans this summer and King's shackled me with two babysitters. I'm seven. I don't need a damn babysitter."

Hawk grumbled, "No, you need a parole officer."

"Look, Phoebe, we can keep the little shit if you're busy," Banks stated, and I frowned. "We just thought you might like some company."

"What?" I blinked a few times. "Oh yes. I would love the company."

Cameron smiled happily. "Really?"

"Sure. I've got a few more things to do in town, then I need to swing by the clubhouse. I can drop him off there when I'm done."

"Sweet." Banks grinned happily, rubbing his hands. "We owe you one."

"Yep." Hawk smirked, backing away toward the door. "If he gets too big for his britches, just chain him to a fence. Someone is bound to take pity on him and feed him."

"I'm not a dog," Cameron protested.

"No, you're a pain in the ass," Banks quickly said as he grabbed Hawk's arm and the both of them ran from the building like they couldn't get away fast enough.

A few hours later, I followed behind Cameron and Fiona as the two bickered back and forth. I'd swear the two were siblings if I didn't know any better. From the moment we met up with Fiona at Sugar's Creamery, those two had been at each other's throats.

By the time we walked into the clubhouse I was at my wits' end with them.

"You can't do that, Cam, not without Pyro's permission."

"Who's gonna tell?"

"I will."

"You nark on me, and I'll tell Granny you hate your piano lessons!"

"And I'll tell Mrs. Cohen you think her chocolate chip cookies taste like mud!"

"Then I'll tell Carebear you like Seth Watkins!"

"I do not!"

"Oh please," Cameron scoffed. "I've seen you drool over that numbnut. Seriously, Fiona. He's a waste of space. I saw him shove a glue stick up his nose to impress his friends. Real genius material right there."

"Shut up, Cameron."

"You shut up!"

"No, you!"

"Make me!"

A loud whistle halted them both.

"Kiss and make up." Scribe smiled, walking over.

"EW, gross!" Cameron gasped.

"I'd rather eat a frog."

Cameron smiled broadly at that, snapping his fingers. "Hey, I can find—"

Scribe growled, "Cameron."

The young boy groaned, his shoulders slouching. "Fine. I'm sorry for calling you a sissy baby."

Fiona glared at the little imp, hands on her hips, as she narrowed her eyes. "You didn't call me that."

Cameron looked up at the young teen and smirked. "But I was gonna."

"Why, you little—" Fiona lunged for Cameron, just as Scribe grabbed the girl around the waist.

"Gotta go!" Cameron moved quickly, running for the kitchen, shouting, "Got manly business to take care of!"