You’re welcome.
Jamie
PS: Bash, if it’s you reading this, you should know I’m grinning down at you right now, buddy. I knew it all along — you guys were always meant to find your way back. I miss you, my friend. But I’ll rest easier knowing our girl is in good hands.
The tears streaking down my face blurred the page in front of me until I could no longer read the words.
He’d known. Jamie had known all along.
Not just about the deal I’d made, but that Sebastian and I would end up back together someday.
Overwhelmed by the tangle of emotions in my head, I turned my wet eyes to Bash. He’d stopped his pacing by the window and was looking at me with a kind of shell-shocked tenderness I’d never seen on his face before. Approaching me slowly, he knelt before me and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with both of his thumbs.
“Jamie knew it. I know it. You know it.”His whispered words were intense as leaned in to touch his forehead against mine, our lips sharing the same breath. “We belong together. We always have.”
I nodded.
“I should’ve known,” Bash continued, his voice haunted by regret. “There was nothing you wouldn’t do for Jamie. It’s one of the things I always loved best about you. If I’d been in your shoes and someone handed me the money to save his life… I don’t know if I could’ve walked away from that deal either.”
“It wasn’t just the money, Bash.” I pulled away so I could meet his eyes. “No amount of money could’ve made me walk away from you.”
His brows lifted in question.
“Wait here for a second,” I whispered, pulling out of our embrace and walking over to the closet. I retrieved the lock box, grabbed my keys from my purse, and returned to the couch where Bash was waiting. He watched me open the box with intent eyes, and his surprise was evident when I removed the stapled contract from inside and handed it to him.
“What is this?” he asked, his eyes scanning the document.
“It’s a nondisclosure agreement.” I swallowed roughly. “I signed it when I was eighteen.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, flipping a page and reading on. “Who gave this to you?”
Fear of his reaction made me hesitate for a few seconds. “Your father,” I whispered eventually.
Bash’s head lifted and his eyes flew to mine. “What?”
I reached out and flipped past sheets of legal jargon to the last page of the contract, where a copy of the deed to my parents’ home in Georgia had been stapled. Andrew Covington’s signature was there, plain as day, registering him as the new owner of the house. Bash traced his index finger across his father’s signature, followed by the property address.
“He bought your house and threatened to evict your family,” Bash guessed, his voice bitter. “Dear old dad was far more cunning than I thought possible, back then.”
I grabbed Bash’s hand and entwined my fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “My family…”
“Don’t apologize, Freckles.” Bash turned to me, his eyes dark but his voice soft. “None of this is your fault.”
“He made me promise never to contact you again. Never to return to Jackson or tell anyone about our agreement. He paid for Jamie’s care, right up until the end. He still controls my parents’ property. And…” I trailed off.
“There’s more?” Bash’s laugh was bitter.
“This was bigger than you and me. It wasn’t just about his dreams for Princeton or your career in politics.”
He stared at me in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I saw something, the night of your eighteenth birthday party. You had a maid—”
“Greta,” Bash supplied, nodding. “I remember. But she never came back after that night. My mother said she fired her because she’d messed up one of the appetizer dishes.”
I shook my head. “She didn’t come back because I made her promise not to. I gave her all the money in my wallet and told her to get as far away from Jackson as she could.”
“Why?” Bash’s eyes moved restlessly over my face as his mind sorted through memories, trying desperately to piece together the details of that night.