Page 40 of The Anchor Holds

It was only once I was settled in my seat, twenty thousand feet in the air, martini in hand, that I admitted to myself what I’d wanted to say to Jasper, what I would’ve said if we weren’t engaged in a constant battle.

If he’d wanted to do anything for me, he never would’ve tangled me up in this, in him, in the first place.

Nine

Champagne Problems — Taylor Swift

Idid my best to push the trip to Vegas out of my mind, knowing that it was not the end of anything. I might not have owed a favor to Jasper anymore, but neither him nor those he answered to were done with me. The noose around my neck continued tightening until I figured out a way to get rid of it entirely.

And getting rid of it meant bringing down an international crime organization and potentially killing the boy I’d once loved. The one who was quickly turning into a man I despised.

All while thinking of a silver-eyed fisherman who could never comprehend the pile of shit he’d stepped in by getting close to me.

I knew that I’d have to do something. And soon. Whatever happened, I’d have to leave Jupiter. I mourned that a lot more than I’d expected to. I’d thought my soul needed the city to thrive, needed cutthroat deals, expensive meals, luxury, noise, danger.

But I was realizing that my soul might not be as dark as I’d thought. That the ocean breeze, the sound of my niece’s laughter, tea parties, full dinner tables and quiet evenings were a balm to all my chafed edges. That gave me the option of another future. One where I could be another person, one who didn’t thrive off power, pain, and empty-fucking with someone who may or may not be a psychopath.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

“What’s this?” I asked as Nora decorated a large, bright-pink cake in the shape of a spider. I didn’t normally ask questions about shit she baked—tried to stay far away from all that because I didn’t eat sugar, and she made me question every decision I’d made about such a lifestyle change.

But I was babysitting. Not Ava—their daughter who was currently with my mother—but Nora, who was getting close to her due date. Her blood pressure remained slightly elevated. Not enough to have the doctors recommend bed rest, but enough to make Rowan’s head practically explode from worrying. She was insistent on continuing to work—as she should have—and my brother was a protective alpha asshole who refused to let her do so without “eyes on her.”

I thought it was fucking insane and informed him that women used to give birth on battlefields, but that didn’t have its intended effect. He’d just glowered, cursed then continued to rant about his wife and daughter’s safety, and me being a cold, unfeeling shrew.

And as much as I was certain of Nora’s ability to bake a cake and not fall into the mixer or whatever Rowan thought would happen, I also adored my sister-in-law and needed the distraction enough that I was there. Plus, maybe I wanted to prove to my brother, and myself, that I wasn’t a cold, unfeeling shrew.

It was Friday evening. And although my will was steadfast when it came to everything from 5:00 a.m. wakeups to processed sugar and ice baths, Shaw Shack was calling to me. Even though I had about 101 reasons why that was a bad fucking idea.

“It’s for Clara Shaw,” Nora explained as she made finishing touches to the eyelashes. Apparently, pink spiders had eyelashes.

I was staring at them as I digested the weird fucking coincidence of being unable to escape the name Shaw.

“She’s a local girl.” Clearly, Nora had taken my silence for confusion. “She’s been battling leukemia for a while, and she’s going to be admitted to the hospital tomorrow for a bone marrow transplant. It’s not a sure thing, but from what I’ve heard, it’s a step in the direction of her getting better.” She squeezed her eyes closed with an expression of agony that I always wore on the inside when I thought about Clara Shaw. “I hope it is, at least. No one deserves that. No child. No parent.”

I felt the words echo in the empty places inside of me. Just as I’d been struggling not to think of Elliot Shaw, I was also trying my best not to think of his niece, to not think about how the transplant would help her. That she’d hopefully go on to live a long, exciting, happy life. That she’d barely remember the time when she was sick, and it would only haunt the adults who’d had to helplessly watch on.

“Anyway.” Nora wiped a tear from her eye. “She loves spiders and the color pink. Plus, a little sugar is in order for what she’s gone through.” She shrugged. “It’s not much. We’ve got the online crowdfunding account, which I’ve made sure a portion of all bakery proceeds go toward. But…”

I kept the knowledge of the crowdfunding account in my proverbial back pocket before I focused on Nora’s scrunched nose.

Because I knew my sister-in-law, knew her heart was tender and bigger than anyone I’d met. I knew she was suddenly doubting this gesture, beating herself up about it not being enough.

“It’s perfect.” I squeezed her arm. “You’re letting them know they’re not alone, which I’m guessing is everything right now.”

Nora looked up at me with a questioning eye, which was warranted since I wasn’t known for making kind or empathetic statements.

Her expression quickly changed to a wince as she let out a ragged huff of breath that had me immediately on guard.

“You’re not going into labor, are you?” I snapped, worry shooting through me. I was not the person who knew what to do with a laboring woman. She needed the soft, calm energy of someone like Tiffany, Tina’s wife. Or my mother. Or my sister.

Anyone who wasn’t me.

“Please don’t make Rowan be right instead of looking like an over-the-top protective alpha asshole.”

Nora smiled up at me, her cheeks flushed as she rubbed her stomach. “No. I don’t think I am.”

My back stayed rigid. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

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