studio, I thrust open the closet door at the rear of the room and dug through my art supplies until I found the shoebox I stored my keepsakes in.
Dropping the hardback, I hauled out the box and threw it open. Digging to the very bottom, I found the letter I’d kept, even though I should’ve thrown it away years ago.
Masochist that I was, I couldn’t let it go.
Fingers shaking, I grabbed the paper and unfolded it flat as I opened Brent 29 and held the letter against the inscription and autograph on the book.
“A love that consumes, consumes everything unto utter desolation.” Griffin Stone.
Jamie had appeared outside the store before I could pay much attention to the handwriting.
Now I could see it.
“Oh my God.” I sank back on my heels.
The handwriting matched.
Jamie was the mystery author. Griffin Stone.
Of course, he was. Perhaps, deep down inside, I’d even hoped he was.
“When I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left.”
He still blamed me. Still hated me. Still saw a faithless girl instead of the girl he’d loved.
He wanted to hurt me.
Tears of outrage spilled down my cheeks, sobs escaping me to release the pain. Skye had been right all along. She worried that our love was too much and that when it ended, it would destroy us.
I laughed bitterly. It had almost destroyed me.
And now he wanted to take away what I’d salvaged from the ruins.
Rage burned through my grief.
If he planned to punish me for my supposed crimes, let him try. I would not take his shit lying down.
If he was no longer Jamie McKenna, I was no longer Jane Doe.
I was Margot Higgins, and he was Griffin Stone.
Enemies.
Here lies Jamie and Jane, I thought. Once upon a time, they adored each other to distraction.
RIP, sweet lovers.
19
JANE
As I dotted a little white against the tip of a petal, I heard a soft curse from my left. It reminded me I’d been too close to my painting for a while now. It was time to look at it from a new point of view.
Putting the paintbrush down, I cracked my neck and arched my back, groaning at how stiff they both were. “What are you cursing at?” I said through a yawn as I slipped off the stool.
I flicked a look at Asher before striding away from the painting.
He stretched out on my bed, glowering at the phone in his hand. When he glanced up from it, his dark eyes glittered with irritation. “My parents’ divorce has found its way onto the gossip rags.”
I winced. Guilt pricked me. As much as it delighted me that Rita Steadman had decided to divorce Foster Steadman, I felt bad for Asher. Not that he wasn’t happy to see his mom break away from his father, but he was concerned about Rita.
They’d only just told him last night. How the hell was it online already?
“Mom doesn’t need this shit.” He shook his head in frustration. “Those bastards don’t care, as long as people hit their clickbait or buy their fucking magazines.”
“She’ll be okay. I promise. She’ll be better than okay. And hey, at least she’s no longer in the dark about Foster. To some extent.”
“I’m not sure I’m happy about that.”
I knew it was hard for Asher. He’d spent most of his teenage and young adult years protecting his mother from the truth about her husband. Someone had decided enough was enough, however. And I had a feeling I knew who that person was—hence my guilt.
Someone had anonymously sent Rita footage and images of Foster screwing young, pretty things at a swanky LA brothel. She wanted a divorce, and Foster wasn’t going to contest it because he didn’t want anyone to find out about the brothel visits.
“I have to find out who sent those tapes before my father does.”
I glanced guiltily away.
Jamie.
He was back for revenge. That’s what my gut told me.
“I can’t have this person out there doing whatever they like. They could destroy my mom.”
It wasn’t even on the tip of my tongue to tell Asher my suspicions, which made me the worst best friend in the world. Why was I still protecting Jamie McKenna? Or was I protecting myself? If I’d told Asher sooner about Jamie, he could’ve prepared for something like this.
Jamie had reemerged in my life a week ago, and I still hadn’t told Asher about it. Despite Jamie’s threat, I didn’t want Foster Steadman to discover what Jamie was up to.