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I'm alive. I'm home with my girl and my brothers…my family. Jackson Adley is dead, which means we're safe. Six is safe.
I refuse to take another day, another moment, for granted. Living starts now. But, of course, there is work to be done.
Most of my clothes are too large for me right now, so I dress much more casually than I normally would. Pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, I leave my feet bare and my hair wet. Little pleasures.
Peeking in the room, everyone is still asleep, so I slowly make my way down the stairs. Intending to head into the office, I make a pit stop at the kitchen to grab one of Six's protein drinks and a snack of some sort.
I don't expect to run into Mrs. Coolson. Considering what day it is, according to the watch I'm wearing, I thought they'd still be on their cruise.
What I expect even less than running into Mrs. Coolson is the blood-curdling scream that escapes her when she sees me. Do I look that frightening? Or, oh no—she thought I was dead. Or worse, saw me dead and now I'm up walking around.
“Shit. I’m sorry…”
Holding my arms out in front of me, I try to calm her the same way I imagine people calm horses. “It's okay, Mrs. Coolson. It's okay.”
“But you…you…oh my, I need to sit down.”
Taking her elbow, I gently assist the dear lady to a stool near the kitchen island.
“How is this possible?” She finally calms down enough to ask, patting my shoulders and looking me over.
I start to answer her just as the cavalry arrives, tripping over each other to run to our dear Mrs. Coolson’s rescue, Jackson and Lukas in the lead. They burst into the kitchen, looking around wildly as the others bring up the rear.
They calm down when they see us both sitting casually, and I continue our conversation.
“I'm not entirely certain of all the technicalities, but I'm going to go with sheer luck and a faulty heart monitor.” I hate lying to her, but I worry that the truth might upset her more. It'll be easier for her to believe that I wasn't actually dead and made a miraculously speedy recovery. After all, I'm not sure that I've quite come to terms with the idea of coming back to life.
And just like that, the dear old woman starts fussing over me. “Well, what are you doing up and walking around? Shouldn't you be resting?”
“I’m sure he plans on resting from his office chair,” Luis says sarcastically.
I shrug as Six comes to link her fingers through mine. “There is some important business I need to attend to.”
“I heard about your father.” I appreciate that the sweet older woman doesn't offer me condolences, betraying her knowledge of some of what happened to me.
“Yes, well, if nothing else, it leaves me with a lot of work to do.” I say lightly.
I am going to have a lot of work to do in the wake of that asshole’s death, but it's not the most important business at hand. I need to come up with a plan for Dr. Franks, and I need to find out what Tony knows so we can move forward.
After that, I'll likely dismantle The Adley Corporation, selling it off piece by piece and finding a way to make something good out of the empire my father built on lies, death, and illegal activity. And considering that I've been preparing to do just this for the majority of my life, I'm very much looking forward to it.
Mrs. Coolson shoos me from the kitchen with a protein drink in hand, insisting on bringing me “a proper breakfast” directly to my office chair. I'm also threatened that she'll sic Six and the guys on me if she doesn't think I'm taking it easy enough. For now, though, they all head upstairs to get dressed.
Before I'm finished making a phone call to Brenda to check in and let her know I'm okay and home safe, a tray with an omelet, toast, and fresh cut fruit is left at the edge of my desk. I eat while I glance at the news, surprising myself with my capacity to ignore the hundreds of emails I have waiting for me.
Some time later, as I'm researching the plan I've put together, Six peeks her head in.
“I figured you’d still be down here,” she says quietly.
“Good morning,” I smile, standing to meet her on the other side of the desk. Enveloping her in a tight hug, I breathe in the scent of her shampoo. Another little pleasure that I will never, ever take for granted again.
“How are you feeling?” She asks, noticing my clothes with a quirked eyebrow.
“It seems most of my clothes don't fit at the moment, so this will have to do. But I'm quite well, I promise.” I lean against the desk and pull her closer to me. “I wanted to say something, but I'm not sure how it's going to sound coming out.”
Her keen eyes search mine. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, I just say what's on my mind, which is nothing that I would have ever done before. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I never told you how I felt about you or really even showed any sign of how I was feeling. Not that it's a good excuse, because there is no excuse good enough for my asshole behavior, but I've always had an issue with control. It's likely some kind of innate need to regulate the world around me because of the way I grew up, and the things my father exposed me to.”
