Unmistakably Us (Imagine Ink Book 5) Read online

  “What the hell, Jan. Did you sign a contract with our parents? Did you learn nothing from me?” So much for diversionary tactics. Epic fail.

  Gus was so upset, she was shaking and staring. January could see the sliver of hope in her sister’s eyes slowly narrowing, getting smaller and smaller waiting for an answer. When January cast her eyes down before taking a breath and looking back at her sister’s disappointment-riddled face, she saw that sliver wink out of existence.

  This time, instead of anger, her sister’s voice was laden with resignation and disappointment. Defeat. “Dang it, Jan. Why? You were free. At most, you’d have to repay the college loans with a few years at the company. Why would you do that? What could they possibly have on you?”

  “I…It’s just…” January hadn’t formulated a lie yet, and she would be damned if she would tell her what really happened. January would rather her sister think she was an idiot than to learn the truth. Even this trip had been negotiated. A goodbye, a kindness her mother tried to take credit for.

  The famous Thorne family contracts. The white elephants no one discussed, not even among sisters. Perhaps it was shame; maybe it was fear or just a random combination of those things and more that kept their lips sealed. But one never asked, and the other never volunteered.

  The girls had been made to sign contacts as far back as January could remember. Of course, those from under eighteen weren’t legally binding now, but they didn’t know that at the time. The newer ones, the ones after the age of legal consent that were through their family business and concerning college, those were.

  January consulted a law student once, hypothetically of course. Under the guise of a thesis, she had learned that as unconventional as they were, they were still legally binding. And while any lawyer worth his weight in fees would be able to dismantle most of it, the rub was the cost.

  That was part of the reason January had started earning money and socking it away, not just as a run fund, but a legal one too. Then she learned that with the money and time would also come information. Secrets and truths that would come out about their lives. Truths their parents would fight tooth and nail to bury and secrets she wouldn’t visit on herself or her sister.

  They may not discuss it, but they were ashamed and embarrassed about how they were raised—thought of as property to be bought and sold to elevate status and wealth. At least when that was common practice, most property got to go live in a castle, bear an heir, and then live a fairly carefree and unbothered existence. At least in my romance novels, that’s how it always happens.

  That was where the idea was born to negotiate ten years and an heir with her mother in exchange for all Augusta’s outstanding contracts and personal info and for her parents to never darken Gus’ door or contact January again either. Of course, she added that last part for herself, but with stipulations to account for their future grandchild.

  Gus could never know those contracts remained or that they had used those in controlling January when she tried to leave. Never.

  “Why would you do that? You know how hard it was for me to get out from under their thumb. Or maybe you don’t. I tried to protect you from knowing all the sordid details. I even made them promise not to continue with the contracts.”

  Gus had always been stronger than she thought, but she wasn’t stronger than a conniving, manipulative witch with a vendetta. January remembered the things that were said the night Gus left, even if her sister didn’t know she was listening at the office door.

  Melody Thorne was calling in a contract, forcing Gus to marry some asshole who was old enough to be their grandfather. January remembered the shock when her mother’s voice had cut through the heavy oak door. “And be grateful he is past his sexual prime and on in years, because it means he might never notice that you are not pure and decided to get yourself knocked up before you could even drive.”

  January damn near doubled over at the memory of learning her sister had been pregnant. She’d never even noticed, but it was Gus’ yelled response to their mother that’d had her feet rooted to the floor.

  “But you took care of that right quick, didn’t you, Mother? You murdered my child and didn’t even blink when the doctor ‘handled the problem.’ I begged you not to do it, but it fell on deaf ears. I would’ve left, lived on the street if I had to, but you didn’t even give me a chance to run.” Her sister shouted the last sentence. Then her voice lost some of its fire but it still carried into the hallway.

  “I’ve cried every single day for years for my baby, and you act like I had my appendix out. I’m done. Your contracts mean shit to me. You mean even less. If you try to force me to uphold this marriage or work for your company, I’ll tell him everything, the baby you killed, the contracts, even that I’m bipolar. I’m sure he’d love that in his perfect young bride. Hell, your friends would love to know about that. Do you think you’d still be welcomed and revered in the society you love so much?”

  January remembered the tears welling in her eyes after hearing Gus’ words, and she would never forget the vicious response their mother had made. “What do you want, you ungrateful little bitch? Hmmm, you want to waltz off into the sunset with one of you trailer park friends and make welfare babies and throw away the years I’ve invested in grooming you? W—”

  “That’s exactly what I want, and I want your promise to let Jan live her own life. If you promise to tear up all the contracts you have, I’ll leave tonight and never mention my baby, my bipolar, or those contracts to anyone ever again. Your name can remain as pristine as ever and all your secrets can stay buried alongside my hopes and dreams. Before you answer, mother, you should know the alternative. If you don’t let me go, I’ll go on the raunchiest talk show I can think of to do my big reveal. I’ll write a tell-all, maybe do a book tour. I’m sure the doctor—”

  “GET OUT! Get out of my house and don’t ever come back.”

  “Gladly!” The things January heard had sent her fleeing back to her room to throw the covers over her head and shut out the world and the fact her sister was leaving.

  The rapid tattoo of foot strikes on the tile pulled January from the past. She looked into Augusta’s eyes each time she passed and could see the shadow left there by what her parents had cost her.

  Gus had stopped talking to her and was pacing and talking to herself more than January. “I can’t believe they lied when they said yes. Actually, I can believe it and even expected it, if I were honest with myself. I knew better, but I wanted out so bad, I trusted them when I —”

  “GUS, STOP!” January shouted while stepping into her path. Grabbing her sister by the arms, she gave her a shake. When her sister shut the hell up and looked at her with tortured eyes, January embraced her with a ferocity that scared her.

  “This has nothing to do with you and nothing to do with some ridiculous personal contract. The only contract I have is with the company. They paid for my college, room and board, books, incidentals, everything. I owe them ten years, at a pretty sweet salary I might add, as repayment for that. That’s it.” Liar.

  “Think about it, that’s a way better deal than a traditional student loan. Not to mention it gets paid off a decade earlier to boot the way those things are going nowadays.”

  January felt her sister try to pull away. Not because she didn’t care for the embrace—Gus never pulled away first as a rule—but because she wanted to look in January’s eyes. She was a shitty liar, and Gus knew it.

  So instead, she ended the embrace, turned around, and continued to put away the groceries. If she could focus on something else, instead of the truth or falsehood of her words, she might pull it off.

  Before her sister could speak, she removed a cold plastic tub from a bag, examined it, and moved toward the freezer. “Mint Chocolate Chip? Gross.”

  Fail.

  “January Snow Thorne, look at me. Are you telling me the truth?”

  Oh, this was an easy one, because she did sign a contract with the company, a
double redundant kind of check and balance or some such bullshit her parents used.

  “Yes, I signed a contract with the company for ten years, no big deal.” Not the whole truth, but the truth. “Now, can we please drop it? I was supposed to be heading back but hope to get some more time before I have to start my new life.” Again, partial truth.

  Gus still looked skeptical but respected her wishes. Speaking of new life, January thought of a certain delicious diversion.

  “I won’t be home tonight after work. I have some wild oats to sow.” She didn’t wait for her sister’s approval. She just kissed her cheek and headed to the shower.

  Is this day ever going to end? Logan got the answer to his silent query immediately. “Are you paying attention, Logan?” Michael asked with a smug superiority.

  “Yeah, man. I got this.” Logan hated having to justify every little thing he did to Michael. Whenever they were at the airfield, the dude was so far up his ass, he should hand him a scope to eliminate the need for a colonoscopy.

  As a rule, Logan held his tongue. Not just held it, but bit the fucker so hard, he wondered if he’d even be able to eat pussy again. Why Michael had to be such a…fuck, I don’t know what he is. I do know he needs to back off.

  These thoughts rocked Logan back. Somewhere inside, he knew everything Michael and John did as far as constantly harp on details and micro-manage him was to make him a better aircraft mechanic and keep people safe. But for some reason, at a point Logan couldn’t pin down, he started to feel differently when it came to Michael criticizing him

  “Hey, man, if you wanna ride my ass like you do your old lady’s, the least you could do is buy me a fucking burger.” Logan knew he shouldn’t have said it or let his temper flair, but in his defense, he made a joke of it, trying to deflect the sting a bit.

  “What is your problem, man?”

  That was it; Logan was ready to beat his ass into the hangar floor. This asshole who had everything while Logan had shit couldn’t even be nice to him for one fucking day. Maybe if he had been raised like Logan was, he wouldn’t be so full of himself. Humph, classic case of someone who forgot where they come from.

  When Logan first arrived, he wasn’t sure what to expect of the people there. His plan was non-existent. He had come here on a whim and wasn’t sure what he would do when he got here or how he would react. He was like that dude on the wall in that show his last girlfriend got him into—he knew nothing.

  Logan had always been a fly by the seat of your pants kind of guy. He had turned winging it into a way of life, so he had no master plan when he Googled Michael or when he hopped in his piece of shit and hauled his ass to the Panhandle.

  What else didn’t he have? Expectations. That wasn’t completely true. He had no positive expectations, that is. There were plenty of negative ones, and that made him think of the saying, “When you’re a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” My whole life when I expected positive, I was always disappointed, always. But with negative, my expectations were fucking exceeded every damn time.

  Logan told himself this, attempting to justify his thoughts. That was a tactic that had served him well. Lately, however, those internal words failed to soothe him the way they once had. Since coming here and meeting the Reids, he was questioning everything he had thought and planned. Ok, so I kinda had a plan. An outline, at most.

  What that outline didn’t entail was butting heads with his brother at every fucking turn.

  Sure, he didn’t expect to be buddy-buddy with him. He didn’t even exactly want to be friends with him. Logan started to wonder if his sole purpose in coming had been to torture himself. Torture himself with a life he would never have, a life that was given to Michael on a silver fucking platter by the woman who had sung Logan to sleep and tended his cuts and bruises his father inflicted on them both. The woman who promised him every night before he drifted off to sleep that she would take him away from there, away from his father.

  Whisk him away and be his mom and love him the way his own mother didn’t. But the months passed, and she never did. Empty promises from a woman he had trusted to save him. Then, after a year and a half of him believing her lies, she disappeared. No goodbye, no nothing.

  That’s when his beatings got worse. His dad turned all his rage on him and blamed him for Lucinda being gone.

  One night, his father dropped him off with an uncle and didn’t come back either. That’s not entirely true. They did, come back that is. His dad had showed up while out on bail awaiting trial for murder. The next time he saw Lucinda was at the trial as his dad was found guilty and she walked out of the courtroom with his brother in her belly and an apologetic glance backward.

  So, what’s my problem? You. You’re my fucking problem, man. She loved you more than me, and you weren’t even born. You were why she didn’t take me.

  You! You’re my fucking problem. You’re the reason I was left with that man, then with my alcoholic uncle, and then tossed back and forth between any aunt or uncle or cousin who would feed me for a while.

  You. You’re the reason…for everything.

  Those thoughts rocketed through Logan, leaving a bitter trail of truth in their wake. He had never said them, not even to himself, had never really thought them, or at least, didn’t realize he did.

  In his periphery, Logan could see John wiping down his hands as he approached. Probably to protect Michael as Logan noticed he seemed to do. He was always in protective mode around most people, especial his old lady and her sister, Michael and his wife, and his own sister, Stacy. Not that she needed it with that big motherfucker she was with. He could level just about anyone. Logan made that note as soon as he came here and planned to avoid him as much as humanly possible.

  Not just because he was the size of a Buick. He had some sort of shit, Logan couldn’t explain it. It was like someone staring at your soul, examining it while you stood there and watched, waiting for them to take your measure and deem you worthy.

  Buzz was, Francis was like that too, but Logan had never felt that way around her—not that they had spent more than a few minutes here and there together. She just seemed motherly and concerned. That was a huge fucking black check mark against everyone in his book.

  Here, they were with a woman who loved and cared about them, and they didn’t seem to appreciate it at all. It was something some folks never had in their life, and these people just seemed to take a shit on it.

  John didn’t stare through you the way Dax did, or give off the sweet parental vibe like Francis, but he was like a rabid wolf when it came to the people he loved. What would John do if he knew the dirty things I want to…will do, to January?

  Those thoughts fled as Michael visibly readied to kick Logan’s ass over the comment about his wife. His brother being the focus of so much of his bullshit became all-consuming. Like those thoughts were lying dormant under the surface just waiting for something to resurrect them.

  He blamed Michael for everything. How was he to proceed now? How was he supposed to tell him who he was or hang with the Reids or January? Again, he would be forced to give up any chance at belonging and happiness, and again, Michael was the reason.

  As soon as the truth was discovered, he’d lose this job for sure. John would turn his back on him if Michael did. They were close, and Michael treated him like a big brother. Like John was his fucking big brother.

  That would start the dominoes, because if John was out, it was just one degree of separation before January was out. So, he’d have no job, no strip club to drown his troubles at, and no sexy girl next door with a foul mouth to ride his cock.

  And…no brother.

  Not that that was new to him, but apparently, at some point, he let hope wink in. That was a problem for tomorrow; right now, he had to extricate himself from the current situation without laying Michael flat on his ass. Retreat and reassess, that’s what he needed, so he swallowed his pride yet again and spoke.

  “I’m sorry, dude, it was a joke a
nd I took it too far. I’m man enough to admit I over-estimated…I mean, I overstepped as an employee, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

  He was glutted on swallowing his pride; he seemed to be doing it so much of late, but it worked. Michael let his chest deflate, smiled their dad’s smile—his smile—and slapped Logan’s bicep. “No worries, brother, I’m just a bit edgy today. It was more me than you. Now, let’s get this finished up so we can go for a beer, what do you say?”

  Michael called everyone brother, the men he was close to anyway, but it still struck Logan every time it was directed toward him.

  “Sure thing.” Logan’s enthusiasm wasn’t as fake as he half expected it to be. There was a certain calm to the precision of working on an aircraft that put him in a good place, centered his focus. Which is exactly what he needed. He was a tunnel-vision kind of guy, so sometimes, all he could do was change tunnels.

  John had moved closer, presumably to try to defuse the situation if needed, and then he hovered around like a buffer. Logan covertly slid his gaze to the side to check out the older man.

  John was shrewd and smart. While he seemed to always give Logan the benefit of the doubt, he also never seemed to stop looking for a reason not to. It was disturbing the way he silently eyed him and Michael from a distance. Almost as if he could see what no one else could. What Logan felt was plain as the fucking midday sun.

  Shit, I see it, and I’ve made every effort to hide it. They looked like fucking brothers. Each of their maternal DNA had been overpowered by the tainted side. Different mothers be damned since both of them took after their father in the looks department.

  But that dimple in Michael’s chin? That was all Lucinda. It made him both sad and infuriated every time Michael shaved and it was visible.

  Yeah, dude, you’re emotionally healthy as fuck.

  Michael broke into his thoughts with a slap to the back. Logan couldn’t stop his natural reaction and stiffened before he gained control of his body.

  “You did good today, Logan. At the rate you’re going, you’ll leave us and the pittance the old man over there is paying you, to go work for one of those corporate jet services in no time. Just remember us little people when you do.” Michael kept his hand on his shoulder as he guided him away from the plane.