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Jack nods, considering. "You think he could be holding a grudge after all these years?"
I shrug, the possibility seeming both absurd and terrifyingly plausible. "I don't know. It seems crazy, but I've seen worse shit. The things people are capable of when they hold onto anger.” The words turn to acid on my tongue as I recall the horrible things I said to Natalie. “This guy knew a lot about my life, knew that I'd eventually come back here. It's a long shot, but maybe…”
"Maybe it's a lead worth following," Jack interjects firmly. "Do you remember his name, anything that could help track him down?"
"Yeah. Mason Phillips. I haven’t kept up with him; no idea where he is now, or what he’s doing." The realization that this old acquaintance might be my adversary sends a chill down my spine. Could he still be so angry? After all these years?
Jack leans back, processing the information. "Well, it might be worth looking into. Maybe check with your old contacts, see if anyone knows where he’s ended up. But be careful," he adds, his voice heavy with concern.
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination settling in. "I will, and thanks, man. It means a lot to have you back in my corner."
The idea of Mason being involved nags at me. Is it really so farfetched? Or have I just been too desperate to block out those painful memories that I refused to acknowledge the possibility?
Then something else occurs to me. "You know, Mason was actually pretty well connected. He knew a lot of people who…well, let's just say?—"
Before I can articulate another theory, Jack’s phone buzzes loudly against the table, slicing through my thoughts.
He glances at the screen, his expression shifting rapidly from curiosity to shock, then to anger. "What the fuck?” he says tersely, looking up at me with hard eyes. "Did you really say that to Natalie? Called her a runaway bride?"
The accusation hits me like a physical blow. I wince, my own harsh words ringing in my ears. He was going to find out about it sooner or later. I know I fully deserve his judgement, and he's waiting for an answer, but there's nothing I can say that will make it right.
"I was out of line," I admit, my hands falling limp on the table. "I was frustrated, and I said something I shouldn’t have. It was a low blow, and I’m not proud of it."
Jack's anger doesn’t subside, but his voice lowers as he leans closer. "That’s not just a low blow, Julian. That’s throwing one of the most painful moments of her life back in her face. That's sick, man. She doesn’t deserve that—especially not from you."
I nod, the weight of my regret growing even bigger at Jack's words. "I screwed up. I know I need to apologize to her. I just don't know how."
Jack stares at me for a long moment, assessing, then his expression softens slightly. "You’re going to have to figure that one out for yourself. But make sure that you do. Natalie’s tough, but that doesn’t mean you get to act like a dick. You owe her a proper apology. Fix it."
"I will," I assure him, shifting in my seat.
Jack nods, seemingly satisfied for the moment, though I'm sure I'll hear about this again later. "Good, I’m holding you to that.” He stands to leave, the conversation clearly over. “Keep me updated about this Mason thing, or whatever it turns out to be. We need to get to the bottom of this before someone gets seriously hurt."
I wince.
“Yeah, I know.”
CHAPTER 20
NATALIE
When Julian texts me Sunday morning, my heart feels torn. I'm still hurting from our argument, but I also know I can't ignore him forever. Even Jack has been hounding me to talk to him, which is surprising considering how many times he's warned me to be careful around Julian.
A strange sort of relief washes over me when my phone buzzes again, only this time it’s a call from my boss. Even though this will probably be a difficult conversation, at least it will give me something else—anything else—to think about besides Julian Rodriguez.
I've been putting off this discussion for as long as possible, fearing the consequences of keeping the vandalism from Lottie, but it needs to be settled. As I answer the call, however, the momentary relief I felt before disappears, replaced with dread.
“Hi, Lottie,” I answer, breathing through the anxiety that's squeezing around my ribcage.
“Natalie.” In just that one word, I can already tell how exasperated she is. “Why do I keep hearing about these incidents from the police instead of you?”
“I'm sorry,” I readily apologize. “I just didn't want you to worry. We have everything under control, so?—”
“Under control?” Lottie interrupts, understandably frustrated. “This is the opposite of under control, Natalie. Things are getting worse! I'm starting to think I need to fly out there and take over the project.”
Lottie's threat hits hard, making my stomach clench and bile begins to rise up my throat. It's bad enough that neither Jack nor Julian have any confidence in my abilities, but losing Lottie's trust would be devastating. I've been doing everything I can to keep the project afloat, to protect my career, to prove to myself and everyone around me that I'm not just a major screw-up. And yet still I'm failing.
“No, no, Lottie, you don't need to do that.” The words tumble out in a rush. “The exterior renovation is a little behind schedule, but our job on the inside is running smoothly. We actually started the art restoration a little early, so our team can afford to take a pause for a couple of days.”
