Break So Soft (Break So Soft Duet Book 2) Read online

  “Who’s testimony could he get that could hurt us? Did he pay someone to perjure themselves?” I pace back and forth. “What the hell are they saying anyway? I swear, that bastard—”

  “It’s your parents.”

  Silence. “My…” I can’t even finish the thought. I just… “What?”

  Jackson, obviously frustrated at only hearing one end of the conversation, takes the phone from me and pushes a button. “Alberto, you’re on speaker now. Can you please repeat what you just said?”

  “David’s lawyers have brought forward some new testimony that they’ll be introducing at the upcoming trial. From Callie’s parents.”

  Jackson’s face mirrors my shock. Okay. So I didn’t mishear Alberto.

  “Do you have the transcripts?” My voice is little more than a whisper. “What did he get them to say?”

  “You have to understand, Callie,” Alberto starts, “it was most likely one of the investigators from David’s lawyer’s firm that went and spoke to them. They could’ve presented themselves as a neutral third party. Your parents didn’t necessarily know that their words would be used to testify against you.”

  Didn’t necessarily know.

  “What do the transcripts say?” My voice is iron.

  Alberto lets out a sigh. “They speak about the time when you showed up on their door pregnant. Your dad goes on record about how he discovered that you worked at Hooters for years. And he expresses…er, his disappointment over the entire situation and was less than complimentary about…um…your moral character.”

  I close my eyes and can’t help the way my entire body slumps. Dad knew about Hooters? Yeah I worked there for years but I thought I’d hidden it from them. I worked forty-five minutes away, picked up all my paychecks and deposited them in a different bank than my parents used. Hell, I even used my friend Marcy’s place as my home address to fill out any and all paperwork.

  I wonder when he found out. Was it before I came home knocked up by my professor? Did it contribute to him saying I was little better than a prostitute? My parents said a lot of things at the time, but that was the comment that had landed like an arrow through the chest.

  And because I’m an idiot, the hurt punches the old wound all over again. I wince and rub absently at my sternum. It might have been Mom taking me to all the pageants, but I was always Daddy’s little girl. And then the sacrifices I made for him so he could keep that job at the bank, even if he never knew about his boss Mr. McIntyre’s late-night visits to my room…

  I hand Jackson his phone and turn away, ready to walk out of the room.

  “What can we do to fight this?” Jackson asks.

  “Callie,” Alberto says, not knowing I moved away, “the best way I see for us to fight this is for you to go visit them and see if they’ll testify on your behalf. They can explain they were tricked into saying things on the record and the judge will take that into consideration. We need them on our side so they can testify on behalf of your character.”

  I can’t help the caustic quality to my laugh. “Didn’t you read the transcript? You know exactly what my father thinks of me.”

  There’s a short silence, and then Alberto asks, “How long has it been since you’ve seen your parents face-to-face?”

  I shake my head, then realize he can’t see it. “Three years.”

  As soon as my parents made it clear that neither I nor my baby was welcome, I swore I’d never step foot on their property again.

  “There’s never been a bigger incentive to reach out and reconcile,” Alberto says. “What David’s lawyers got on record were words no doubt taken completely out of context. Plus, they got nothing from your mother. We can fight this, and there’s no better way than by getting it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

  I lean against the nearest wall and look up at the ceiling. Shit. All of this boils down to one thing. The last thing in the world I want to do.

  I have to visit my fucking parents.

  Chapter Nineteen

  JACKSON

  Finally logic wins out and I convince Callie to skip the six-hour drive up to Siskiyou County and let me charter a plane instead. It takes some doing, though.

  “Six hours both ways,” I remind her as we walk from her workstation toward the elevator at the end of the day. “I’m happy to go on a road trip with you, if that’s what you want, but my friend, Deve, owns a bunch of planes that he charters out. He also owes me a favor so it’d be free.”

  She frowns, slowing down. “That doesn’t sound very safe. Just borrowing a plane that your friend has.”

  I laugh even though she turns to glare at me.

  “Oh, did I forget to mention that Deve is a founding partner of Excelsior Air Lines?”

  She almost chokes on the sip she’s taking from my water bottle. “Holy sh— Excelsior Air— Like the company that’s building those commercial rocketships for tourist rides into outer space?”

  I nod, amused by her shock.

  “What’d you do for him so he owes you a favor?”

  “A gentleman never tells,” I joke as I press the down button to call the elevator. “So that’s a yes? I’ll pick you and your sister up at ten o’clock on Saturday morning and then we’ll head to Deve’s airfield. The ride to your parents’ place should take a little less than an hour by plane.”

  The elevator arrives and we step on, moving to the back corner. Since we’re on the top floor, it pauses at almost every floor on the way down to pick up passengers. I face Callie with my back to the rest of the box—I’ve learned if I don’t, people will come up to me no matter where I am in the building with questions or to fanboy/girl over me, neither of which I have time or patience for at the moment. Every second with Callie is precious.

  “So that’s the plan?” I keep my eyes on her.

  This is about more than a plane and both of us know it. I get the feeling she’d rather I not come with her to her parent’s house but the little I know about them—kicking out their nineteen-year-old daughter for the sin of being seduced by her professor, a man who abused his position of power— And then now for them to testify on that fucker’s behalf? I breathe out hard, barely containing my anger.

  I don’t want her heading into that situation without back up. Yes, her sister’s coming too, but I’ve seen her fly off the handle at Callie before. I’m the only one I trust to be the support I suspect Callie will need.

  “I…” Callie huffs out a breath then throws up her hands. “Okay. Fine.”

  I feel a little bad for steamrolling her into doing things my way. But only a little bit. Protecting her is ultimately more important.

  But shit. I heave out a breath. Not at the expense of her feeling like she has no control.

  When we get to the bottom of the elevator and everyone else leaves, I take her hand. “Hey. We can get there any way you want. But please. I really want to be there with you.”

  She looks up and meets my gaze. Then she smiles and squeezes my hand, going up on tiptoes to drop a light kiss on my lips before pressing her forehead to mine.

  “We can take the plane. But if we die in a fiery explosion, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

  I laugh and grab her around the waist, swinging her in a small circle and depositing her outside the elevator, making her squeal.

  “I don’t know about this.” I overhear Callie’s sister Shannon ask, looking nervously around the narrow interior of the plane Deve lent us. “Doesn’t it seem… a little… small? You know, I could still just drive up and meet you there.”

  I cover my smirk. I already let Callie know I have to work for the short flight. But I’m still sitting close enough to Callie and her sister that I can occasionally overhear them.

  The plane is luxurious, something they’ve both been commenting on. Every seat is a plush lounge chair. But the plane itself is little larger than a bus, a fact which isn’t going over well with either sister.

  I offered to sit with Callie during take off but she assured
me she’ll be fine. Still, I glance her way as we leave the tarmac and she’s clutching her Kindle in one hand, and her sister’s hand with the other.

  I grin and go back to my laptop.

  Fifty minutes later, all projects are assigned and the tires of the plane squeal as we land on the tarmac at Siskiyou County Airport.

  Callie didn’t even know such an airport existed.

  Looking out the window, I can see why. Calling it an airport is a stretch. It’s more like one long landing strip and six hangers. Our plane taxis into one.

  “How was your flight?” I ask after walking back to Callie’s seat.

  Her smile is wobbly. “I didn’t have to use the barf bag, so we’ll call it a win.”

  Shannon elbows her in the stomach. “What she means to say is that we appreciate you arranging the flight and it’s so much nicer than driving in a car for seven hours.”

  “Suck up.” Callie says under her breath and elbows her back.

  I can’t help my grin. Seeing Callie around her sister is a whole new side of her. Naturally, I find it just as charming as the rest of her.

  She looks less than at ease as we grab our bags from the plane and walk out to the town car waiting for us on the tarmac.

  I take her hand and she clutches mine back, face going paler and paler the closer we get to her parent’s house. Which makes me more and more glad I insisted on coming.

  I don’t like the effect this place has on her. I thought her looking sick was just because of the plane ride, but if anything, she looks even more green in the gills when we pull into her parent’s driveway.

  “Callie,” I whisper after her sister pushes the backdoor open and steps out. “You okay? Because we can turn this car around and leave right now.”

  “What?” She looks over at me, startled. “No, I’m fine.” She flashes the plastic smile and I want to growl. I hate that smile.

  The next second, though, she’s let go of my hand and is scooting across the back seat, stepping out her sister’s door.

  I get out too and find her staring up at her childhood home, a look I can’t read on her face. I glance at the house. It’s nothing special. An oversized two-story house with pretentious white columns in front that lead up to a deck off an upstairs bedroom.

  It looks exactly like all the other houses on the block except that some houses have brick columns while others have white columns with Corinthian flourishes. Oh and a few houses have circular driveways with fountains in front.

  Callie follows my gaze. “My mom was always jealous of the houses with fountains.”

  “Mom finally got the landscaping she always wanted though,” Shannon says, joining us.

  I take in the thick grass that looks cut exactly to an inch and is an almost obnoxious green. I don’t even want to think about the amount of water they have to waste to keep it that green, when I know for a fact that this area of California has been in a drought for years.

  In front of the house, a small garden is hemmed in by big white stones. Little spherical bushes dot the garden at perfect intervals. A stone pathway leads to the front door and more little bushes line the walkway.

  “Mom must be so proud,” Callie murmurs.

  I hurry around to grab the suitcases from the trunk and then join Callie and Shannon as they head up the path to the front door. I expect them to just head inside, but instead Shannon stops and rings the doorbell.

  Didn’t she live here as recently as… two years ago? Whenever I go home I always just walk in and call out Mom’s name and I haven’t lived there for a decade. But whatever. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

  Pachelbel’s Canon echoes through the door.

  “So she got the fancy doorbell too,” Callie says. Her voice sounds odd. Detached and just… not Callie-like.

  We all wait on the stoop for a good minute and a half before the door finally opens.

  A blonde woman probably in her fifties answers the door and I have to fight the urge to recoil. She’s wearing so much make-up and hair product she looks shellacked. She’s obviously had a nose job but not by a very well-qualified doctor by the looks of it.

  She smiles and it’s even worse than Callie’s fake smile. Her eyes glide right over Shannon, hover on Callie with a lingering top to bottom scan, and then land on me. Only then does she brighten.

  “Welcome,” she says with too much enthusiasm to be genuine. “Come in, come in.” She backs up and holds the door open for us.

  Callie shoots a quick glance at Shannon but she just shrugs and walks inside. With a look like she might throw up any moment, Callie follows. I grab the bags and follow, closing the door right behind us.

  “Well don’t just stand there,” Callie’s mom says, her voice still with that weird over-enthusiastic pitch. “Your father is catching up on some last-minute work in his study.” She leans in to me and I have to work not to pull back at her overpowering perfume. “Any day now he’s going to be promoted to branch manager, you know.”

  Callie stiffens beside me and I glance her way. Her mouth is pursed, jaw stiff. Something her mom just said ticked her off but I don’t know what, or why.

  She squeezes her eyes shut as her mother continues prattling on about updates they’ve made to the house. New white granite kitchen countertops. An infrared sauna they installed because, in her mother’s words, “all my friends were getting one and they are just a necessity for clearing the body of toxins. It’s really a can’t-live-without item.”

  She looks between the three of us gravely. “Do you know how many toxins are building up in your body on a daily basis? I can email you some articles. Sitting for twenty minutes in my sauna is the equivalent of running two to three miles. You girls should really look into getting one. You could share it since you’re living in the same apartment.” Her face sours some at this.

  “Hopefully that situation won’t last for much longer,” comes a man’s voice from the other end of the living room. Her father, I presume. He’s a tall man, dressed like he stepped right out of a K-mart catalogue in his khaki pants and polo shirt, sweater tied artfully over his shoulders. “If what you said on the phone is true and you’ve got a real job. It’d be nice to finally have a daughter we can be proud to claim.”

  What a fucking dick.

  Now my back is as stiff as Callie’s. I glance over at her but she’s looking at Shannon, her brow furrowed. Shannon’s face is carefully blank. Damn. I knew it would be bad but I guess I wasn’t prepared for how screwed up this family dynamic would be.

  “You must be Jackson Vale.” Dad bypasses his two daughters with barely a glance and heads directly toward me, hand out.

  I force a smile and grasp his hand to shake. If it’s a little firmer than necessary, well, I can only contain the beast so much.

  “I took a look at CubeThink’s market shares when I heard Callie was coming up with you for the weekend,” he says, nodding as if modestly impressed. “Not bad. Of course, all the easy money’s been made in the market and we’re in a bottoming process. But there’s lots of cash on the sidelines and I really think we’re constructive on the market. I’m cautiously optimistic. You?”

  I feel Callie wince beside me. She knows as well as I do that everything her dad just said is total nonsense bullshit. I’ve seen his kind before. They like to sound smart so they can feel like they’re more important than they are.

  But really he’s just a little man with a little life and he’ll never be anything more. It’s only because I can feel how uncomfortable Callie is, embarrassed by her father, that I don’t call him out.

  “I’m sure Jackson doesn’t want to talk about that over lunch, Daddy,” Callie says hurriedly.

  He turns and gives her a stern look. “Your mother’s getting lunch ready in the kitchen. Maybe you’d like to go help her with that while we talk business?” It’s stated like a question but I hear the order underneath it.

  And goddammit, I want to punch him in his smug, stupid face. He’s such a
blowhard but then he’s going to stand there and try to demean his daughter? Tell her to go do women’s work in the kitchen while the menfolk stand here and talk business?

  Callie’s chest heaves like she’s three seconds from ripping him a new one, either that or she’s about to start crying, when Shannon grabs her elbow and leads her toward the kitchen.

  Her father immediately starts talking again but my eyes are on Callie. She glances back once before disappearing through the kitchen and I try to communicate as much as I can through the look. Are you okay?

  She gives a quick nod, then jerks her head back toward her dad, like she wants me to focus on him. And I get it. He might be the biggest ass in three counties, but she needs him to recant his testimony, or better yet, testify on her behalf. So I suck it up and cater to his ego. Which is as big as the fucking state of California.

  He goes on and on and on about his job as a mid-level manager at a local bank. About all his investments—aka, he plays in the stock market, mostly losing because he knows shit about managing money—and about how he’s on the cusp of a great promotion, which he eventually lets slip he’s been waiting for for over seven years now. He doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise or ask me a single question.

  How the fuck did Callie come out so great coming from parents like this?

  Suffice to say, I’m more than glad when Callie comes back out carrying a silver platter of tiny cucumber sandwiches. Her back is straight and she walks with perfect poise.

  About ten minutes later, the women have carried most of the food out and we’re all sitting around the dining room table. The table is set with fancy china, silverware, crystal glasses—they’ve gone all out. Now awkward silence fills the room as we hand around a plate of dainty cucumber sandwich appetizers and Callie’s mother brings out bowls of soup.

  The soup is orange. A thick, mystery orange. I take a sip and try not to sputter. What the—