Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Ten

Isabella

We stop at the hospital on the way to the docks. My father doesn’t get to see me as often as before, but that’s not his fault, obviously. It’s been hard to come around him now that he’s in this state. The treatment was supposed to help his body function better, but it’s taken a further toll on his mind.

As much as I’d like to think he can bounce back from this unconscious state, it’s not likely. I sit down by his bed, working through the emotions that race through my hectic mind. I want him to get better, come home, and live life normally, but it’s slowly becoming clear that it won’t happen. Still, I try to keep my hopes up, watching Carter pace the hallway on a phone call.

I finally muster the courage to leave my father’s side for the night, not wanting to be at those chilly docks for too long. Coming out of the room, Carter is already outside, his conversation growing more hectic as time passes. I stop in the lobby break room, making myself a small cup of coffee, when a light tap on my shoulder nearly startles the cup out of my hands.

“Wow, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you,” the light voice says.

I turn, seeing a bright smile offered by a woman with long, curly brown hair. She’s dressed in a suit, the style befitting for a newscaster or a lawyer. Either way, I smile and make room so she can fix herself a cup.

“I love your shoes,” she hums.

I look down at my clean sneakers, their pink shade a bit childish in hindsight, but they’re comfortable. Carter gave them to me as a gift, but I’m sure he was more interested in just getting me into another fitting room than he worried about what I checked out with.

“Thank you,” I reply. “Your suit is so nice. It’s so edgy and cute.”

“Thanks,” she says with a growing grin. “You look so familiar. I hope that’s not weird of me to say.”

I shake my head slightly, realizing that she looks just as familiar. “Oh, you know what… I think I’ve seen you before too. Were you at the Blackthorne election gala?”

She lights up with realization. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. I’m a journalist, so I was there to get a comment on Carter’s infamous loss against Killian Hughes. You’re the girlfriend of Carter Blackthorne, right?”

“Yeah, he’s just outside,” I breathe.

“I would go say my hellos, but I have to get back to work.”

My brows furrow while she mixes her coffee with a thin straw. “What do you mean, work? You work here at the hospital?”

“Oh, no. My journalistic duties include digging up some feel-good stories and whatnot. I caught wind that Carter Blackthorne has made a sizable donation to the hospital in the past. I’m looking for some records of that transaction just to back up his generous image.”

“Huh,” I sigh, slightly confused. “That’s nice of you, I guess. I didn’t know stuff like that was in high demand right now.”

“Oh, for sure. Anything that upholds the values of Manhattan within certain public figures is always news to the public. They’ll be happy to see this side of Carter, considering the smear campaign that is still making the rounds in the background.”

I set down my cup, my stomach aching with her every word. “Smear campaign? What are you talking about?”

Her face falls suddenly. “You didn’t know?” She shakes her head slowly, taking a long sip of her coffee. “I think I have a copy of the file at my house. I can show you if you’d like. Maybe we can meet over coffee.”

“Okay,” I reply, feeling a pit deepen in my stomach. “Sounds good.”

She takes a small notepad out of her purse and scribbles on the face of it with her pen before handing me the sheet of paper. It has her phone number and her name written in beautiful cursive.

“Lilian McCoy,” I hum. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” she says with a smile. “I’ve got to get going. Tell Carter I said hello, okay?”

I nod while she walks away, stuffing the paper into my pocket before making my way outside. I take a gulp of coffee and offer Carter a sip, watching him dismiss his phone call before taking the cup and giving me an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, dove. Dealing with a workplace crisis. Nicolas is still being an asshole after everything that happened. I’m getting exhausted dealing with it. How is your father, Bella?”

“He’s the same still,” I whisper. “I ran into a friend of yours, though.”

He lights up with bewilderment. “Really, who?”

“Lilian McCoy. She said she’s investigating some kind of donation you made to the hospital or something.”

His body goes rigid, and the light in his eyes darkens enough to notice. He drops my coffee into the trash can and takes my elbow in his grip, yanking me toward the parking lot. I hiss slightly, trying to squirm out of his harsh hold, but when he opens the back door to the SUV, he tries to throw me inside like I’m a rag doll. I fight him ever so slightly, needing to understand why he’s become so cold so suddenly.

“What are you doing?” I cry, fighting his hand off my arm. “What’s wrong, Carter?”

His hand shoots out to hold my chin, steadying my face to stare up at his dominating height over me. “Tell me what that bitch said to you, Isabella. Right now.”

My breath catches in horrid shock. “She didn’t say anything, really. I swear. Why are you being like this?”

“Tell me the truth!”

I wince, his voice echoing through the parking lot. His anger is so hot that it’s palpable, and I lurch my arms out, shoving him back a step or two. He staggers upright, still seething. His hand rests casually on his belt, but I’m not going to take his threat kindly.

He’s furious at the situation, not at me, and I need to know why that is.

Maybe what Sam and I were talking about is coming true.

“Carter, you’re scaring me,” I whisper. “What’s the problem? She came up to me and started talking to me. It’s not like I met her behind your back or something.”

“You won’t do that,” he bites, as if I was threatening him with that insulation. He steps forward again, growling in a low hum into my ear. “I’ll tie you to the bedpost if I have to. You don’t go behind my back with anything.”

“Isn’t that what’s going on here?” I ask.

“What did you just say?”

“You’re doing something behind my back, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head, tucking his lips into his mouth while trying to calm down. It’s not working. He’s more furious than ever, but I don’t care. I won’t let him get angry and pushy with me. It’s not my fault he doesn’t want me to know what’s going on with Lilian McCoy. It’s something he needs to work out and bring to my attention rather than be surprised when it comes up to me in a business suit and a smile.

“I told you before, dove,” he snaps, his voice unkind while he fights himself to calm down. “I am with you, and you alone. I have been for a long time. I won’t sit here and field accusations that are saying otherwise. I want you. I only want you.”

“Then tell me how you know her.”

He flicks his focus elsewhere, and I can see the avoidance in his eyes yet again. I climb into the car and sit furthest away from Carter. He eventually gets inside; Ernesto nervously looks between us.

“Take me home, please.”

Carter sits up straight. “We’re going to the docks, dove.”

“You can go alone. I want to go home. Please, Ernesto. Take me home.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, flicking his hand in the air between us. “I’m trying to protect you, Isabella. I don’t need you hanging out with shady journalists that have it in their best interest to ruin my fucking life.”

“Then just be honest with me,” I plead. “Why is she trying to ruin your life? What did you have with that woman?” My stomach knots tighter than ever before, and I swallow the building lump in my throat. “Is she someone that you used to be with, Carter?”

He looks at me thoughtfully, his entire demeanor unfamiliar to me. “No, dove. She’s not. She’s just someone in the media that I fear has it out for the both of us, okay? I want you to be careful.”

I look at the man I love, the man I’ve spent every day with for nearly six months, and I break.

He’s lying to me.

If there was ever a woman who looked more like Brooke Blackthorne than me, it was Lilian McCoy.

“Take me home, Ernesto. Please,” I pant.

The Blackthorne chauffeur nods glumly, headed back onto the highway toward the heart of Manhattan.

***

I wake up too early in the morning, feeling the missing indention of the mattress. Carter must not be back home yet, perhaps still touring the dock property. I wipe my wet eyes, realizing that I’d fallen asleep mid-sob, and stand up out of bed to stretch my body.

When I make it downstairs, my mouth desperately dry, I see a pacing figure on the doorstep. My heart slams in my chest when I walk up to the doorway, looking through the peephole to see Rich hanging out casually on the porch, hands in his pockets while he looks at the empty street.

It’s bad enough the women in this neighborhood already think I’m a gold digger.

It would be much worse if they get the impression that mysterious men are lined up at the door while Carter is away. I could be overthinking it all, but I make the reckless decision to unlock the door and open it up.

Rich’s face softens when he sees me, his entire demeanor harmless and relaxed. “Hey, Isabella. I’m looking for Carter. He wanted to meet up right after he took a look at the docks. Is he awake yet? If not, I can wait here until he does.”

“No, he’s back yet. Come on inside, though,” I sigh. “We can wait together.”

He stares up at the dauntingly tall foyer as if looking for laser beams that are going to zap him into oblivion if he steps inside. “Do you think he’d be okay with that, ma’am?” he asks cautiously. “I’m trying to stay on his good side. Is this a trap or…”

“No, it’s not,” I assure him. “Come on in. I’ll make some tea, and we can wait for him in the living room.”

He shrugs at his defeat, coming inside the house and taking a look around. There’s hardly much furniture set up in the living room, and it’s not exactly a cozy feeling, given that this house takes up the same space as the entire apartment building where I just moved from. It’s a massive space with so little inside of it. I decide not to bring the issue up to Carter.

I’m sure, with all his daunting, overbearingness lately, that he will go ahead and fill this place with new furniture without checking in with me first.

Just like how he bought this place without telling me his idea, but I digress.

Rich sits down on the couch, and I go to the kitchen to heat some water. I return and choose the chair, waiting for the water to boil so I can steep the tea into the kettle. I sink into the chair and pull my legs to my chest, sulking over the reason I had fallen asleep in tears. Carter is nearly more unhinged than I’ve ever seen before.

But I don’t understand why.

William and Jacob were the reason he was so afraid for me before, but they’re gone now.

How is one journalist making him more chaotic than the threat against our lives every day?

“I love this house,” Rich says, attempting to make small talk. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s okay,” I sigh.

His eyes narrow. “You don’t like it?”

“I do. I just didn’t have a hand in picking it. Carter can be a bit trigger-happy at times. If I don’t make a decision quick enough, he will.”

“He probably just has your better interest in mind,” he replies.

I can’t help but shake my head at his stance. “So, you agree with Carter? You think this was a good idea?”

“Well, I can’t say something like that or not. I don’t know either of you very well. I do know that Carter is a smart businessman. He’s very determined to grow his empire in Manhattan. I doubt he makes moves to hurt you, seeing that you’re his family, and he doesn’t want to hurt his family.”

“We aren’t married or anything.”

“Yeah, but everyone can see that he cares for you. He’s protective, and for a good reason. I know better than anyone that Jacob and William were not to be crossed without repercussions. Their behavior took a toll on you, I’m sure of that. Everyone knows about my brother’s obsession with you.”

I swallow hard, recalling the memory. “You knew about that?”

“Only after the fact,” he admits. “I’ve been taking care of my sick mother for years. It wasn’t until someone on the Lacey side of the family reached out and spilled all the gossip. My brother has a history of wanting things he can’t have. I don’t doubt that he tried to get too close, and it wound up getting him killed. It doesn’t concern me too much. I’d been at my mother’s bedside for too long to even maintain a relationship with him or my father.”

Hugging my legs tighter to my chest, I see a glint of pain in his eyes; I know the feeling too well. “Your mother is sick?”

“Terminally,” he replies. “I’ve been with her through it all, but it’s not getting much better. She’s slipping away slowly. It’s hard to watch, but it’s better that I’m there.”

“I understand that feeling,” I admit. “My father has been sick for a long time. I quit college and moved back to the city to be near him.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s hard, isn’t it? Feels like you have no choice but to watch them deteriorate. You can’t help them or stop the sickness, so you feel helpless.”

I inch to the edge of my seat. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s like you can help them with anything else in the whole world, but you can’t take their pain away. You just sit there, powerless.”

He offers a sincere grin. “It’s nice to know someone going through the same thing as me,” he admits. “I do enjoy that. It’s nice to know we’re not totally alone.”

“I agree.”

The kettle screams on the stove, and I pop out of my chair hurriedly. Rushing to the stovetop, I pull the kettle aside and release the lid, steam filling the air like a hot cloud. The burner is still on, and I tinker with the knob slightly, trying to figure out how to turn it off.

The flame is exposed through the metal grate, something I’ve never had to work with before. I turn the knob sideways, thinking it’s going to turn off, only to watch the flames overtake the grate and lick the air recklessly.

“Ah!”

I back up instantly, the burn already marking its path around my wrist. Stiff hands keep me from falling. Rich manages to flick the stove off with ease before turning the water on in the sink. He yanks my wrist under the water, fighting me while I scream and sob through the hot agony.

He manages to keep me standing, his arm securely wrapped around my side while I struggle to stay upright through the shock and pain of the burn.

It doesn’t last long.

The front door is nearly slammed shut, Carter’s furious features kissing the sight of Rich and me in the kitchen, side by side. Rich finds out a second later that Carter is back, looking up just in time to see Carter’s wrist cocked back over his shoulder, his knuckles as pale as possible while they sweep through the air, headed right for Rich’s face.

I could step back and let Carter be his furious, overly protective self.

Or I could stand up and show him that I have a backbone in me that won’t be ignored. I could prove that I have enough sense to never cross him and that he can trust me as I trust him. We should be a team that no one questions, and yet I don’t know how much I can trust him now, and he obviously doesn’t trust me.

I step forward, pushing his fist aside, and stand between Carter Blackthorne and Jacob Lacey’s twin brother.