Broken: The MISTAKEN Series Complete Second Season (14 page)

D
r. Stan Goldman
was supposed to be one of the best psychiatrists in San Francisco. He was also one of the strangest. It wasn’t that he was icky, or someone that made me uncomfortable, but there was something about him that wasn’t quite right. Something I couldn’t put my finger on that made me squirm in my seat every time I sat down to talk to him.

I’d had to go wash my hands after Ben left the apartment. There was also something wrong with
him
that I couldn’t put my finger on. Unlike Dr. Goldman, though, I was pretty sure Ben was a creep. The guy made my skin crawl, and he never did tell me why he had come over that afternoon. I was pretty sure he was trying to convince me to take the job in the governor’s office, but he didn’t come right out and say it. He hinted around at other things—weird things, like who I was dating. Considering I already knew that Brandon knew him, it seemed like a strange thing for him to be asking me. I was almost certain that he was Brandon’s contact in Sacramento. So what he was doing there, trying to convince me of anything? I had no idea. But it made me feel gross, almost like I needed to take a shower after he left.

I came out to the living room after I finished washing away the grime of Ben’s visit and sat down on the leather couch across from my psychiatrist. The couch was uncomfortable, and while I always tended to squirm while I talked to Dr. Goldman, the couch didn’t help matters. I longed to have my old futon back—the beat up thing Mel and I had had forever, first in our dorm room, then in our apartment.

“How have you been sleeping?” The man gazed over at me. That seemed to always be the opening question these past several weeks. Everyone who knew me asked. Melissa, Krystal, my father… it seemed to be the concern of the month.

“Crappy.” It was true. I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the whole Daniel thing. I sometimes wondered if my sleep issues were related to the fact that I still couldn’t remember a damned thing.

He nodded. “It’s been how long now? Four weeks since we started meeting?”

I returned the nod. “I still just wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep. Two a.m., every morning like clockwork.”

He pursed his lips and pulled out a prescription pad. “I’m going to give you a new prescription. This one is an off-label use for sleep disorders. I think if you just get some quality sleep, it will break the cycle and you’ll be as good as new. Then we can go down to weekly sessions.”

Praise God. It was almost like a miracle when he had said we could go down to twice-weekly sessions this week. The three-times-weekly sessions the weeks before had almost seemed
too
much. And quality sleep sounded like a fabulous plan. Any time after tonight… Tonight I was going to fix things with Brandon, but I wasn’t about to share that juicy detail with Dr. Goldman. I knew he had privacy laws to follow, but he was still on my father’s payroll. I still didn’t trust him completely, though he had helped me worked through quite a bit of the anger I had surrounding what had happened.

“Let’s talk about Brandon.”

I’m sure he saw my eyes roll. I didn’t need this. Not now. I had already made up my mind and my stomach was still churning in knots thinking that he would be there any time, interrupting my shrink session. I knew he’d be fine with me seeing a psychiatrist—probably even happy about it. It meant I was moving forward, that I was ready to start over. I almost hoped he was doing the same thing.

“I see by the eye roll it isn’t something you want to discuss today. Would you say that’s true?”

God, I hated the way psychiatrists talked to me. There was always something condescending about it, as though they already knew the answer and were trying to get me to see it their way. I’d been to enough shrinks in my life to know and understand that the point of therapy wasn’t for the shrink to impart their wisdom. It was supposed to be so that I could heal myself.

I forced a smile. “Brandon and I are going to talk tonight.”

He nodded. “I think that’s good. Are you planning to go see him after this?”

I shook my head. “He was supposed to come over. He probably got hung up with work or something.” Work. It probably was his job, and I pushed the thought away. As long as I could convince myself that he wasn’t still actively working to take down my father, we could work this out. It would all be okay.

He nodded again. “I believe he came by already. Before you sat down with me…”

My eyes widened to saucers. “He was here?”

The doctor shrugged. “I assume it was him. I asked if he was Brandon, and he asked me to tell you hello. He picked up the box that was lying by the door…” He motioned behind him, though I couldn’t see all the way to the front door from where I was sitting. “He dropped off some flowers and a bag of something. I assume you asked him to drop off your things, the same as you did for him. That was the homework, after all…”

Oh, Jesus Christ. If he saw another man here, someone he didn’t recognize, I knew he’d go bat shit crazy about it. It didn’t matter if it was a doctor—I knew how overprotective he could be. How jealous. And he would think I had led him on, that I had
wanted
him to see me with someone else. That I
wanted
him to think I had moved on. I had to go fix this, and quickly, before he did something stupid. He was probably already half-drunk, and I wasn’t sure whether to check the bar or his apartment first.

I looked back at the doctor. “I should go. If he was here…”

He interrupted. “If he
was
here, he needs to learn how to deal with the fact that you have a life outside of his influence. Outside of his sphere. Otherwise, you’re merely substituting his influence over your life for your father’s.”

Good lord. He was right about that—all of it. It was still something I needed to work on—learning how to stand on my own two feet and not worry about what the men in my life wanted me to do. Or what they expected me to do. Why couldn’t I have a man in my house? Even if it was someone he didn’t know? It wasn’t as though Dr. Goldman was anything but a
doctor.
Brandon should be able to understand that, and the explanations could wait.

After my session, I decided to take the bag of groceries with me to his place. The flowers he had brought to me, while beautiful and my favorite colors, were ruined. The stems were broken, probably from his anger at another man opening my door. If he would have just waited a few seconds longer, he would have known how innocent the entire thing was. I understood that he was angry. He had demons that he still battled, even if I didn’t fully understand what they were. I had so hoped we would be able to find an inner peace together, away from the craziness that had enveloped us. Maybe it was only just a naïve dream.

I decided to walk to his apartment, Cade following quietly behind me. His apartment wasn’t even a mile away from where I lived now, so it was close enough to walk and I figured the exercise would help to quiet my overactive brain, anyway. Thinking about his jealousy and possessiveness tended to get me a little too worked up. I loved that he needed me—wanted me. But he had to learn to trust me, too.

I made my way up the stairs to his apartment. Cade waited in the lobby, which I hoped he would have to do all night. If things worked out, I’d text him and let him know I was going to stay.

I felt the familiar rush of excitement surge through me as I ascended the staircase. I was almost shaking by the time I arrived at his doorway. I smoothed my hair and my dress and knocked on the door. I blew out a long breath while I waited for the door to open. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when it finally did.

I
wasn’t
sure what I felt when the woman opened the door, standing in front of me in nothing more than a Stanford t-shirt and her lace panties. Angry. Bewildered. I wondered for only a moment if this was what Brandon had felt when Dr. Goldman had opened the door for him at
my
apartment. I pushed it away when I realized that unlike this woman, my psychiatrist had been fully clothed.

My hands balled into fists, and I clutched the grocery bag so hard in my hand that I’m sure my knuckles turned white. My fingernails dug into my palms and I felt my face flush. I hadn’t so much as spoken a word when another woman came around the corner from the kitchen. She didn’t even have a t-shirt on, just her bra and underwear and her hair was soaking wet.

I looked up at the number over the entryway, sure I had knocked on the wrong door. It had to be the wrong apartment. Maybe he had moved and hadn’t told me. Maybe no one knew. It seemed like the type of thing he might do—up and move to a different place without letting anyone know.

I somehow managed to stammer out my words. “I’m sorry. I think I must have the wrong apartment.”

The Stanford t-shirt girl’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, you’re Jenna Davis.”

The nearly naked girl looked at me, scanning me up and down. “Who’s Jenna Davis?”

T-shirt girl motioned at me with her hand. “Her. You know, Senator Davis? The one that had the affair? That’s
her
.”

Jesus Christ, how did I always find myself in these situations? I took a deep breath, just wanting to get the hell out of there. “I’m sorry, I…”

I heard his voice boom from somewhere down the hall. “Stanford, are you coming in? It’s time for your shower…”

I’m not sure if it was how hard I was gripping the paper handles on the bag or if I snapped my arm in just the right way, but the grocery bag tore at that moment. My arm was suddenly light and I lifted my hand to see the handles still clutched tightly in my fist. I heard the shattering of glass and knew that the bottle of wine that had been in the bag was now broken inside of it.

His voice tore down the hallway again. “Damn it girls, I told you the only rule tonight was that you not trash my place.”

I turned on my heel and walked away, down the stairs and out of the building before the realization of what was happening really dawned on me. He had shown me, alright. He thought I was trying to make him jealous, and damn it, he couldn’t let me win at
that
game.

My breath was coming way too fast and I ducked into the bar that was just a few steps from his building. The one where he had taken me the first night we met. I looked back and made sure Cade was still there. He was, even though I hadn’t really had a thought about looking for him and I watched him take a booth by the door. I probably should have joined him, but I needed some space.

I sat down on one of the bar stools and ordered a Long Island. Alcohol would at least take the edge off, let me breathe. I had to push it all out of my mind for now. I couldn’t let myself be hurt or angry or any of the other thousand things I was sure I needed to feel. I just wanted to forget what I had seen. Forget everything. If the bartender had offered me a drink to forget the past five months, I think I would have paid any amount of money to take him up on the offer.

I took a long sip of the bitter drink and let the warmth of the alcohol wash over me. Two of these, then I would have Cade call us a cab to go to the drug store. I would fill my prescription and hopefully not wake up until sometime tomorrow afternoon.

I finished the first cocktail and had just ordered my second when a woman came to sit down next to me. She was tall and attractive. She looked quite a bit older than me, probably in her late fifties, maybe early sixties, but it only showed around her eyes.

She looked over at me and smiled. I noticed her blue eyes—the same color blue as Brandon’s. As Krystal’s. I might not have noticed them at all except for the way she stared at me before she spoke.

“You’re Jenna Davis.”

I nodded and pulled another long sip from my cocktail. I didn’t need any more of these “you’re Jenna Davis” moments that night. No photos, no press, no obsessive people who wanted to know every detail of my personal life.

She smiled and took a sip from her glass of wine. “I’ve been wanting to meet with you for some time.”

“Oh.” I took another drink and looked over at Cade, who was now sitting up straight, looking directly at me. Something about his posture told me he wasn’t sure about the situation—it wasn’t his same carefree attitude that he had when I was with my friends or with Brandon. Something about the way he looked at me, the way he sat poised for action. I could feel there was something unsafe about this woman. Something I needed to get away from as quickly as possible.

She extended her hand to me. “Jenna, I’m Joan. Joan Richardson.” Her smile widened. “I’m Brandon’s mother.”

I
took
another long drink from my Long Island. Either what was in this drink was working way faster than it should have or I was stuck in an episode of T
he Twilight Zone.
I looked up and down at the woman sitting next to me. She didn’t look anything like Brandon, apart from her eyes. Those were unmistakable, the same brilliant ocean blue as both his and his sister’s. She might have been related, but his mother? Krystal’s mother? It seemed unlikely at best.

I forced my world-famous Hennessey smile to my lips and met her gaze. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t really a Hennessey—I’d had elite training in mastering this particular expression. The one that said, “I’m a lady, and you will
never
see what I’m actually thinking.” We sat there, almost staring at each other for a long moment before I spoke. “Nice to meet you.”

She laughed. The way she tilted her head did remind me of Krystal, but not enough to believe that she had given birth to the woman over forty years ago. Besides, this woman didn’t look old enough to have been Krystal’s mother, not when I knew Krystal was thirteen years older than Brandon. This woman would have to be pushing seventy to be old enough to be their mother, and there was no way she could have been older than sixty at the absolute most. Either that, or she had aged exceptionally well. Even plastic surgery couldn’t have accomplished this woman’s perfect skin. I just couldn’t believe that there was any way she could be Brandon’s mother. No way.

Cade took the bar stool on my opposite side. Something in his posture told me I should be on guard myself, but the woman’s laughter was making it difficult to do anything but keep the forced smile on my face, even though my heart was about to beat out of my chest. He leaned into my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “It’s time to go, kiddo.”

I eyed the woman again, who was still chuckling to herself while taking another long drink from her wine glass. I took another long sip from my own drink and stood up, never taking my eyes from the woman sitting next to me. There was something so
off
about her—I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but she was definitely making me feel more than a little shaky.

I had only taken one step toward the door before she spoke. “It was nice to meet you, Jenna.” She stood up from her own seat and took a few steps toward me. I felt Cade edge closer to me on my opposite side.

I couldn’t remember having been in many situations where I felt like I was actually in danger. Cade had been next to me for months and I hadn’t ever seen him like this—so on edge that he might jump this woman without a real reason. It sent a cold chill through me just thinking about it—made my heart race more quickly than before. I knew that what I had gone through so many weeks before with Daniel had been dangerous—I just couldn’t remember any of it. And Cade hadn’t been there…

The woman leaned in to whisper into my ear, much as Cade had just done a moment before. “Stay the fuck away from my son.”

I pulled back and met her gaze again, the phony smile falling from my face. I grabbed Cade’s arm and tried to stop the trembling that I was already feeling starting to pulse through my body.

I felt Cade’s arm slide around my waist and he guided me to the exit, releasing me after we crossed through the doorway. I stumbled out into the evening air and released the breath I had been holding. We walked a few paces from the bar and Cade watched for the woman, clearly expecting her to follow.

When she hadn’t exited the bar after what seemed like several minutes, I turned to him.

He spoke before I could even make the words form in my brain. “Who was that woman?”

I turned back to the door to see if she was standing there before turning back to face him. “She said she was Brandon’s mother.”

I saw a barely perceptible shake of his head and I let out another breath. Cade didn’t have another chance to speak before a flash of black hair and bronzed skin knocked him to the ground.

I took a step back, turning back to the door to see if the woman was there, and then turned my gaze back to the brawl on the ground. I wasn’t sure whether Brandon or the woman claiming to be his mother posed more of a danger to me. Just knowing Cade was unavailable and unable to do anything for me at the moment sent another chill of terror through me.

“You should have been there. You were supposed to be there.” I recognized the voice, even through the slurred and drunken words.

There was a sickening thud of a punch landing, then another stomach-turning crunch as Cade gained the upper hand and held Brandon by the throat against the ground.

The older man subdued the younger one, and Cade held Brandon down until his fists stopped flying. Cade was the first to stand, extending a hand to assist Brandon from the ground.

Brandon swatted the hand away and lifted himself to a sitting position, his eyes narrowed with rage. “I’ll kill you, Cade. I swear to God, if I wasn’t so…”

Cade dropped his arm and let out a long sigh. “If you weren’t so drunk right now, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He turned to me. “Let’s go, kiddo.”

My jaw had dropped and my feet may as well have been buried in concrete. The entire exchange was surreal and all I could do was stare at Brandon, his mouth bloodied from a punch that Cade had obviously landed. He sat there on the sidewalk, barely clothed in only a t-shirt and boxers, rubbing at his jaw. Part of me wanted to run to him, to kiss the lip that was beginning to swell. The other part wanted to slap him, knowing why he was only half-dressed and what he had been doing with the two women—no,
girls
—only a few minutes earlier.

His gaze finally lifted to meet mine. The hatred I had seen in his eyes only a second before—hatred aimed at the man he must have felt responsible for everything that had happened to me—everything negative in his eyes melted away the moment his gaze met mine. It was like nothing had happened—no time had passed and we were still lying in bed, blissed-out lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other.

But then he spoke, and the perfect moment was over. “What the fuck are
you
doing here?”

He was drunk. There was no question about that. Drunk and mean and nasty, things I definitely didn’t need to deal with from him at that moment. There wouldn’t be any talking him down from this. He’d have to sleep it off. And considering who was in his apartment, it was likely he wouldn’t be doing it alone. While I wanted to punch him for that—what did he mean, “What was
I
doing here?”—I knew I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. It didn’t matter that he had two women in his bed, probably waiting at home for him, and that he deserved a fate worse than castration for that alone. I knew he was hurting from whatever inner demons it was he was battling. I knew I was the cause of at least some of them. And I knew that whatever it was that had driven him to make the choices he had made that night was something that I couldn’t control, especially now that he was sitting on the sidewalk in front of me, drunk out of his mind.

So I did what I always did in situations like these. I forced my Hennessey smile to my face and turned away from him, linking my arm through Cade’s. I had to keep myself from turning around—force myself to not check on what he was doing or where he had gone. I almost hoped that he’d go into the bar and meet the woman who claimed to be his mother. Maybe she could talk some sense into him, even though in his current condition, it was unlikely that he would remember it in the morning.

Cade and I hadn’t walked half a block when I felt someone touch my shoulder. The hairs on my neck and arms stood on end, and I turned around to face the person I had already sensed it was.

“Jen, wait.” The gaze that met mine was the earlier one, the same one that this time made my knees go weak and sent a thrill of electricity jolting through my body. The one that made me want to run into his arms and never let him go again.

But I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight, anyway. “You’re drunk, Brandon. You need to go sleep it off.” I let out a long sigh, taking another long moment to gaze into the blue eyes I had missed so much.

His eyes refused to leave mine. “We need to talk.” He motioned with his head toward Cade. “Take the night off.”

Cade shook his head. “I don’t think so, buddy. Another time. Let’s get you home.” Cade took another step toward him.

Brandon took a step back and looked over at me again. “You’ll come with me.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement.

I shook my head and tried not to show the pain that was almost splitting my chest in two.
He has
girls
in his apartment.
“No. Not tonight, Brandon. You have guests. You should get back and make sure they don’t trash your place.” It was all I could think about.
The only rule tonight is that you don’t trash my place.
What was he doing here, anyway?

His gaze narrowed and his lip turned up into almost a sneer. “As if your
guest
didn’t do the same thing. I’m sure you two trashed your place together…”

My lips parted, but I couldn’t make the words come out. Is that really what he thought of me? I shook my head again and found the will to speak from somewhere. “Is that what you think, Brandon? That I’m some slut who brings men back to my apartment?
Especially
when I knew you were supposed to come over? You think I’m that cold?” I don’t even know what I was thinking, trying to argue with someone who was so drunk he was barely coherent, let alone conscious.

His words were so slurred, I wouldn’t have understood him at all if I hadn’t known him so well. He pointed a finger at me, his eyes still narrowed to slits. “You came to my apartment to rub it in, bringing those groceries back. You’re trying to hurt me. You
want
to break my heart. You think…” He shook his head like he was trying to clear his vision. “You think I can’t be that man—that I can’t give you what you need. You think I can’t be
the one
.”

Tears stung behind my eyes and I shook my head, the ache in my chest almost ripping me apart at the seams. My voice dropped. “That is about the
last
thing I think, Brandon.” I looked behind me to see where Cade had gone. I spied him leaning against the wall of the business next to us, probably just within earshot. I dropped my voice so that only Brandon could hear me speak. “You don’t know
anything
about what I think.”

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought there were tears in his own eyes. He shook his head again, then motioned behind me. “Get in the car.”

I looked back to where he had pointed. I hadn’t noticed his car parked right there beside us. I turned back to him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re drunk. You have no business driving…”

He pulled out a set of keys from somewhere and tossed them to me. “You drive. I need to show you something.”

I shook my head again, knowing this was as terrible an idea as he’d ever had. “You need to sleep this off. You won’t remember anything, anyway. Go home, get some sleep. We can talk in the morning…”

“Get in the car, Jen.” He walked over to the passenger side of the car and got in, slamming the door behind him with a loud bang.

I turned back toward Cade, my jaw almost on the sidewalk. I didn’t know what to do—what could he possibly need to show me when he was in this condition? And in his current state of undress?

Cade walked to me, shaking his head. “If you do it, I need to make some calls.”

I nodded. I seemed to always forget that his allegiance was to my father—not to me. “Of course. You’re on his payroll…” I paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” I tried not to let the fact that he cared more about the senator than he did about me sting too much, even though it felt like another stab in the chest.

He closed his eyes, almost exasperated. “Not to your father, kiddo. To his sister. She needs to hear about what’s going on. My understanding is that he shouldn’t be drinking. And that…” He motioned with his arm back to the bar. “Whatever that was. She should hear about that, too. I don’t know who that woman was, but she isn’t his mother. I knew his mother.”

My brow furrowed. “You knew…?” I stopped myself, not really wanting to hear the answer. “I don’t need to hear it.” I glanced down at my purse. “I have my phone. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded. “I know you will. He’d die for you, kiddo. I’m not worried about you at all when he’s with you.”

I nodded. If I knew anything at all, no matter how pissed off I was at him, I knew that I wasn’t worried when I was with him, either.