My Darling Jane (The Darlings)

Three days. Seventy-two hours since I last spoke to Jane, and every minute feels like a weight on my chest. I keep telling myself it’s for the best, that it’s what she wanted, but damn if it doesn’t feel like I’m the one breaking apart. I did call her first thing the next morning to tell her about the Freida incident in the park. I meant to tell her the night before, but as soon as I saw how sick she was about Londyn, I just couldn’t. Freida posted it in the early hours of that morning, and I let Jane know that my PR team is in full damage control mode.

I explained to Jane our strategy, a sincere public statement that would show regret for any misunderstanding but also highlight my professionalism. We’re clear about not admitting fault.

Freida’s video on IG is currently dragging Jane and her business into this.

But now, I’m pacing my apartment, caught in a loop of rehashing our last conversation in the hospital room.

There’s things going on with me that I just need to think about. What did she mean?

The elevator ride down to the lobby is more turmoil.

Reaching the lobby, I try to distract myself by checking for packages. The girl at the desk hands me a parcel, her smile polite. As I turn, package in hand, ready to go back to my apartment, the last person I expect to see walks through the door.

Rae-Anne.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, the words sharper than I intend.

“I wanted to see you,” Rae-Anne replies, a desperate note in her tone. “Please, can we talk?”

I scan the lobby, filled with curious glances from the staff. The idea of taking her up to my place, letting her into my home, tightens something in my chest.

“Over here is fine.” I nod toward the plush conversation area.

“How did you find me?” The tension in my shoulders rises as we sit across from each other.

She fidgets, avoiding my gaze. “Garrett, my son, he’s good with the internet. He found this apartment complex on Reddit. We found a few wrong addresses before this one.” Her hands twist in her lap, betraying her nerves.

“You’ve been stalking me?”

“It wasn’t like that. You never called me back,” she says with a wave of her hands, attempting to justify her actions.

I roll my neck. “You showing up, it’s a lot to take in. First it was the training center and now here. It’s my private life.”

Rae-Anne’s eyes lock with mine. “I’ve just missed you, and I wasn’t sure you’d ever call me back.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. We can’t just pick up and have a relationship. Those things take time. You can’t keep following me around, or I’ll get a restraining order.” I can’t look at her when I say it because I hate to be mean to her, but . . .

“I want to make amends,” she insists as she leans in closer. “I made mistakes. I was scared, young, and lost. I thought it was the best thing for you.”

It probably was.

She pulls out her phone. “Garrett’s actually here. He didn’t want to come in without getting your permission. Do you want to meet him?”

My stomach flip-flops. Not really. But . . .

Without waiting for my answer, she sends a text, and moments later, a tall teenager with dark hair walks in. He’s so young looking, kind of awkward and gangly. My half brother.

He shuffles over and blushes as he shakes my hand and tells me how great it is to meet me. He sits down in a chair next to his mom. I take them in, looking for a similarity between us, but there’s not much. He must look like his father.

“So, do you have a girlfriend, Jasper?” Her attempt to shift to lighter conversation feels forced.

“It’s complicated.”

She chews on her lips for a moment, then, “We’re actually in a bit of a bind. I didn’t want to mention it, but . . .”

I lean back, my arms crossing as unease hits. “Huh. A bind?”

She nods, launching into a list that seems rehearsed. “Well, first, there’s my husband. You would really like him. Anyway, his boss is selling the construction company where he works, and we’d like to buy it. It’s not very big, but it’s a solid investment for the future, and we almost have enough for a down payment. And Garrett”—she glances toward her son—“his private school has raised their tuition, and I’m really worried about coming up with it.”

“Oh.”

She stares down at her hands. “Plus, we have medical bills, the mortgage on our house, and well, daily expenses. I took a lot of our savings to come here this summer and track you down.”

I feel winded. “I see.”

“And, not to sound presumptuous, but I heard about your new contract,” she adds, her eyes locking on to mine with an intensity that feels calculated. “Forty-five million, wasn’t it? Congratulations. That’s really amazing. We can’t even imagine that much money.”

Garrett looks away from us and stares out the window, as if he might be embarrassed.

I keep my face impassive. “What exactly are you asking for?”

“Well, I hate to ask, I really do, but you have so much that I was hoping you might consider helping us out. We’re family, after all, and we should stick together and make time for each other, like a fresh start. Holidays, weekends, things like that. We’re just a train ride away.”

Her mention of “family” stings.

How can she ask for money when all we share together is biology? And she talks of holidays and weekends as if her absence can be mended with a few meals.

Does she truly not understand the depth of her betrayal? The years she chose to be away from me as she built another family?

Sure, the note she left felt sincere, but my gut is telling me this was her plan all along. Good moms, like Jane and my adoptive mom and sisters, they love unconditionally. They don’t abandon people only to come back when it benefits them.

“I’ll think about it,” I reply, though my decision is made.

I won’t be a bank to someone who couldn’t be a mother.

I stand, my movements stiff. “Goodbye, Rae-Anne. Garrett.”

She’s calling out to me, but I ignore her and turn away. My pace quickens as I head for the elevator, each step an attempt to put distance between us.

The elevator doors can’t close fast enough, and when they finally do, I allow myself a moment to just breathe. I lean against the cool metal of the wall, closing my eyes.

Back in the apartment, I reach for my phone. I need to talk to someone. I dial Dalton’s number, but there’s no answer. Frustration wells up inside me.

I try calling Jane next, when I swore to myself I wouldn’t, but I’m desperate for her calm. She doesn’t reply, and fuck if it doesn’t feel like a rejection. And I hate it. I hate it so much.

It feels like the walls are closing in, and isolation washes over me.

Unable to stay in one place, I decide to take a long, hot shower. The warm water cascades over me, but it does little to fix my thoughts.

After the shower, as I dry off, I decide. I need to get away, even if it’s just for a little while. I begin packing a bag, tossing in some clothes and essentials. I need a chance to sort through the mess my life has become this summer.