Come To Me (Dare With Me Series Book 3) Page 14

  “Do you want to taste these?” Cammi asked, appearing by the table where I was seated in the corner.

  I eyed the tray she held, which had an array of pastries on it. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but my body apparently thought otherwise. “Sure,” I said, pleased to discover that my voice sounded normal. “What are they?”

  “We have several options. I’m doing some menu testing. There are savories—spinach with red peppers and feta, and ham and gruyere popovers. Then, I have sweet options, including apple, blueberry, and elderberry.”

  “Can I try two?” I asked. Having options made my appetite perk up a little.

  “Of course.” She handed me a slip of paper. “Let me know which ones taste the best. I’m actually doing this scientifically.” She cast a sheepish grin at that. “Okay, maybe it’s not quite scientific, but I want to know what people think.”

  Glancing down at the paper, I noticed the pastries were listed with space for notes. “I’ll try them all.” They were small, so that wasn’t too much.

  “Please do.” As she handed me a plate and carefully placed the pastries on it, she asked, “How are you?”

  I managed something resembling a smile. “I’m okay. You?”

  I mentally congratulated myself for managing a normal conversation even though something weird, stressful, and linked to the most painful part of my life was careening toward me like a meteor I couldn’t avoid.

  “Busy, but that’s life,” she replied. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  Cammi moved on to another table, and moments later, Daphne came through the door to the café. She waved to me before getting in line at the counter. I was hungry enough that I enjoyed the pastries.

  Slipping into the chair across from me a few minutes later, Daphne smiled. “Hey, I hear we’re testing food.”

  “I’m a terrible food critic,” I offered. “I think they’re all good.”

  “That doesn’t make you a terrible food critic,” Daphne said reassuringly. “Sometimes they are all good.”

  She looked at the list, her lips curling in a bashful smile. “She’s trying my suggestions.”

  “It’s a safe bet that anything you suggest when it comes to food will be good.”

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “People have different tastes. We met to discuss what might work here while she’s trying to revamp the menu. It’s fun to try to help her find things with an original twist and that she can make from local resources when it’s in season.”

  With Daphne’s slight southern accent soothing my frayed nerves, we chatted conversationally about the menu, and she made some more detailed notes than what I had to offer on her slip of paper. By the time she brought up my uncomfortable topic, I was relaxed and not feeling so high strung.

  “So, tell me what’s going on,” she said softly. “That message that Harley got was pretty strange.”

  I took a gulp of coffee. I needed the fortitude of caffeine. After a steadying breath, I began, “It is strange. I do know that attorney’s name, but not because he’s my attorney. He reached out to me as well, asking me to testify on behalf of my old high school softball coach.”

  Daphne nodded along. “Okay, so what does he want?”

  Here came the hard part. No matter how supportive people wanted to be, no one liked to hear uncomfortable stories like this. I had learned, in brutal ways, that some people preferred simply not to know the truth. They preferred for the truth to remain in the shadows and out of sight. Unless it was a truth that was comfortable for them.

  “Softball was my big sport in high school. I was really good. We won the state championship twice.”

  “That’s awesome, right?” Daphne asked hesitantly.

  “Winning was. What wasn’t awesome was that our coach sexually abused some of us. Including me. I never said anything about it until the day I walked in on him with one of my closest friends.”

  Daphne’s eyes widened, and she reached over to grab my hand. “Oh, no. That’s awful. I’m so sorry. What happened after that?”

  Daphne exhibited nothing but genuine concern. Relief gusted through me, and I took another breath, her calm and supportive reaction buoying me.

  “Well, we decided together to tell our parents, and they went to the school. Everyone on the team was interviewed. A few others came forward, and others didn’t. It was pretty ugly. Nothing happened other than that, and he kept on coaching. I lost some friends, including some that surprised me. It was hard for lots of reasons, but also because what bonded us together felt broken.” I stumbled over the last word because I didn’t like it. It was the only word that rose to the surface when I tried to explain though.

  When Daphne nodded encouragingly, I pressed ahead. “My senior year, I actually injured my back and didn’t play. I’d always loved riding horses, so I started doing that more. I never competed after that and left the team. He kept coaching, and it all felt like a waste, not worth all the trouble.”

  Daphne sighed. “I’m so sorry. God, why does it feel like these stories are so similar?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe because they are.” I didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “He went on to get a good job coaching for college teams and led a star team for a few years until there was a case there. Now, things are a little different and people pay more attention. He’s facing legal charges for the first time. The DA’s office has reached out to me about whether or not I would be willing to testify at his trial to help them establish a pattern of behavior. I’m sure some of my old friends have been asked as well, but I don’t know because we haven’t stayed in touch. It’s been over a decade now.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Until his attorney called me, I wasn’t sure. That’s the attorney who left Harley a message, or that’s who I think it is. After he called, I was like fuck this, I’m not going to let them try to manipulate me. Now I’m freaking out though. How does he even know I know Diego, much less Harley? It feels like a nightmare, like they’re trying to reach out to people in my life to make me nervous. I came here for a fresh start. My life wasn’t ruined. I was doing okay, but the whole situation cast a long shadow. Now, it feels like it’s chasing me up here. I wasn’t trying to run, but moving on felt good.”

  Daphne gave my hand a hard squeeze before leaning back in her chair and releasing it. “I know how it feels to have something cast a long shadow. Starting somewhere new isn’t running. I can’t imagine how it feels to have that attorney reaching out. Things like that happen in high profile cases with attorneys who are getting paid a ton of money. They go looking for any way they can to rattle witnesses. I have no idea how he found out you know Diego, but there’s nothing to do about that now.”

  “I can’t even imagine what Diego thinks,” I said, leaning my chin in the curve of my palm. “I don’t really want to tell him about this. It’s not exactly fun to talk about when you’re just starting a relationship. I don’t even know if I can say we have a relationship.”

  I meant what I said, but I also knew the way I felt when I was with him. It was much more than a passing, casual encounter. Now my old, ugly history had cast a long line and snagged a hook in my life. Again. The whole situation made me so tired.

  Daphne regarded me quietly. “Obviously, I don’t know what’s in your heart, or Diego’s. I do know he likes you an awful lot. Just tell him what happened. You did absolutely nothing wrong. I would also consider contacting an attorney for yourself. If this guy’s attorney is going to be reaching out and nosing into people’s lives like this, you need someone to make it stop. I would also make sure to let the DA know. They can reach out and help put a stop to it. What a fucking asshole,” she said vehemently.

  “I don’t know if ‘asshole’ is sufficient for him,” I muttered.

  “Don’t forget you have already moved on from this,” she said fiercely. “You’re not letting it define your life. Don’t let it define your life now.”

  Daphne’s words echo
ed in my thoughts later. I was not going to let the past define my life. Yet, that didn’t change how frustrated I was and frankly furious about the actions of that attorney. I was going to take my story back, and I wasn’t going to let this man fuck my life up any more than he already had.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Diego

  “What do you mean?” Harley pressed, resting a hand on her hip as she cast a skeptical look in Daphne’s direction.

  Daphne was busy cooking, which she was almost always doing. She seemed to fall into the same kind of zen place I experienced when I was flying whenever she was cooking. For that, I was deeply grateful because her love of cooking benefited my life and that of everyone I cared about immensely.

  I waited to hear her response. Unlike my sister, when I was skeptical of a situation, I held back and tried to let things play out. That was really the only way to know the truth.

  Daphne turned the burner off under a pan, carefully using the spatula to scoop out the sautéed chicken and place it in a bowl. She glanced over at Harley when she was done, setting the spatula down before looking between us. “It’s Gemma’s story to tell, and it’s personal. I understand why you want to know, especially given that the attorney left you a message. But it’s private. I can assure you Gemma has done nothing nefarious. I suggest you ask her yourself.”

  Harley let out a huff. “Seriously? You went to talk to her and now you’re not going to fill us in.”

  I felt protective of Gemma, even though doubts were crowding my mind. “Harley, give it a rest. If it’s personal, like Daphne said, it’s Gemma’s story to tell.”

  Harley narrowed her eyes and looked back at Daphne. “Did Gemma ask you not to tell anyone?”

  Daphne rolled her eyes, turning and crossing over to fetch something out of the pantry before returning to the counter. “Not specifically, but it feels like gossip for me to talk about it, and I’m not comfortable with it,” Daphne said firmly.

  Daphne might not be outwardly as pushy as my sister, but it was obvious she wasn’t backing down. Harley tried a few more times to pressure her to no avail.

  “Enough. I’ll be talking to Gemma tonight because I’m going to her yoga class in town. I’ll ask her to give you a call since apparently you can’t be bothered to do so yourself,” Daphne offered pointedly.

  Harley looked at me as if she thought somehow I was going to try to badger Daphne into changing her mind. I shook my head and turned away. I had some laundry to do, which was definitely preferable to getting stuck in the middle of this conversation.

  I walked back through the trees to the staff house, relieved to find it empty. For the most part in the summer, there were rarely any of us here at the same time unless it was evening or early morning. We had too many flights rotating in and out to spend much time at home. It was pure chance I had the morning off. The plane I was supposed to be flying today had a minor mechanical issue. Flynn had messaged me about an hour ago to say he’d figured out the issue and the plane would be ready by early afternoon. Until then, I had time on my hands, something I didn’t particularly want.

  Ever since that strange message Harley received, I felt as if everything had stuttered inside me around Gemma. I couldn’t think clearly, and my thoughts were fuzzed with too much emotion and reaction. Striding into my room, I gathered up my laundry and started the washer, promptly realizing that doing the laundry involved a lot of hurry up and wait. This task wasn’t going to keep me occupied.

  Plunking down on the couch, I decided to peruse the daytime television offerings. Only minutes into that, I was annoyed. My cell phone vibrated from where it sat on the coffee table and I reached for it, answering reflexively without checking the screen to see who was calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, I’m looking for a Diego Jackson,” a man’s voice said smoothly.

  For a second, I was confused about why I recognized the voice but then I realized this was the voice from Harley’s voicemail. Confusion and irritation prickled down my spine, but I decided to roll with it.

  “Yes?” I replied

  “Is this Mr. Jackson?” the man prompted.

  “It is.”

  “Excellent. I’m calling because I understand you’re familiar with a Gemma Marlon.”

  “Mmm,” I replied noncommittally.

  “It may seem strange that I’m calling out of the blue. However, I am part of a legal firm in Portland, and Miss Marlon is listed as a witness in an upcoming legal trial. We’ve had difficulty reaching her, so we’re trying to track down people she knows.”

  “Look, if I knew Gemma, why the hell would I help you? These days that’s plain stupid.”

  “You must understand, she’s a witness in a high-profile criminal case involving a famous college coach. We’d like to make sure she’s aware of the potential questions should she choose to testify against our client.”

  “What’s this trial about?” I asked, genuinely curious, but also just trying to keep the guy on the phone for a few more minutes.

  “You may have heard about it in the news. Our client has been accused of multiple allegations of sexual impropriety with students during his work as a coach. Coaching is his life and his entire career. While we thoroughly respect the efforts to raise the profile of how victims are not served well by the legal system, that doesn’t mean everyone accused is guilty. Our country has a legal system and principles for a reason.”

  My gut churned. I hated stuff like this—when powerful people and those who had enough money could make it difficult for everyone. Although this has absolutely nothing to do with the minor embezzlement case related to my parents, I remembered clearly how much money they had to spend on lawyers to get it addressed legally.

  I wasn’t about to help this man. “You called the wrong guy. There’s no fucking way I’ll help you.”

  I hung up the phone and tossed it on the coffee table, letting out an annoyed sigh. I’d been itching to talk to Gemma. I was going to make it happen and find out just what the hell was going on.

  I forced myself to wait until I could switch my laundry over to the dryer before leaving. I could’ve asked Harley to deal with it, but that required a conversation with her, and she was in a pushy mood.

  “Now, lift your arms, hold your palms flat together, and bend at the waist, coming forward to relax and hang down toward the floor. Please let your knees bend slightly so your lower back can relax. Only straighten your legs if the backs of your thighs are loose enough to do so comfortably.”

  Gemma’s voice rolled over me, soothing and melodic. I followed her instructions, along with the rest of the class, breathing deeply as the tension slowly eased along my spine. When I had checked her class schedule with Daphne and discovered she had a short lunch class, I might’ve broken a speed record to get into town on time. I had a flight scheduled only an hour away, but I wanted to at least try to talk to Gemma before I left.

  We’d done some schedule scrambling with my plane out of commission this morning, so now I was booked for a trip for a group going to Katmai National Park and would be gone for several days.

  Gemma brought us through several more poses toward the end of class, and we finished lying flat on our backs with our palms turned upward. Soothing music played as the class slowly filtered apart. Some people hurried out, while I waited.

  Gemma seemed tense. Her shoulders were held in a rigid line, and the corners of her eyes were pinched slightly. Her usual easy smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was chatting with an elderly woman, so I took that moment to grab a bathroom break. When I returned, she was putting away some yoga mats and the music had been turned off. A quick scan around, and I deduced we were finally alone.

  Approaching her, I stopped a few feet away. “Gemma.”

  Her head whipped in my direction quickly, her eyes widening slightly. “Hi, Diego. Good to have you in class.” Her tone was polite and crisp.

  “Look I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes,”
I said.

  I really didn’t want to have this conversation. I wanted there to be no confusing mystery about why an attorney was calling people Gemma knew. My gut told me there was a reason they had targeted Harley and me. If only because we were new enough in Gemma’s world that we might be susceptible to revealing information about Gemma without her knowledge.

  Gemma’s eyes searched my face, her gaze guarded. “Sure, what is it?”

  “You heard about the message that attorney left Harley?”

  She nodded. “Daphne spoke to me about it. Please let Harley know I’m sorry. Obviously, I had nothing to do with that. Well, I have something to do with the situation, but not having some random attorney call people I don’t know that well.”

  “You know me well,” I heard myself saying.

  She regarded me quietly. “I think so,” she said, her words hesitant.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Her lips pressed in a thin line, and she looked away. She pointlessly straightened a few of the rolled up yoga mats on the shelf. “It’s a long story, and not really the kind of story I want to tell a guy who I’m still getting to know.”

  When she looked back toward me, her gaze was steady. She lifted her chin slightly and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m guessing Harley’s a little freaked out about that message.”

  I shrugged. “It was out of the blue for her, and she didn’t really understand it, but I don’t think she’s freaking out. Daphne told us it was personal.”

  Gemma looked torn, her lips twisting to the side. “I didn’t ask her to keep anything secret.”

  “She said that you didn’t, but she felt it was your story to tell. Tell me. I suppose I should let you know that same attorney called me today.”