Aftershock by Sylvia Day Page B

“You know her?”
    “She used to date Vincent.”
    “Fuck.” He scowled. “I need all of her contact info—email, mobile and home numbers, address.”
    “All right.” I stepped closer. “Jax, we have to talk.”
    “I know, and we will. But I can’t right now.”
    “This is my fault.”
    He came to me and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “No. I should’ve talked to you about Ted and—”
    His smartphone started ringing on his desk.
    “I have to get this.” He tapped his earpiece. “Rutledge,” he answered briskly, then, “That’s a start. How quickly can you get them to me?”
    He turned his back to me, and I clenched my fists. I left the room to fetch my smartphone to get the information he’d asked for. I was just going to have to blurt it out before he cut me off. I hated to blindside him like that, but he needed to know.
    With my cell in hand, I headed back to his office and closed the door behind me. He was off the phone and sitting at his desk, reading something on his monitor.
    “I have the information you wanted.” I walked up to him. “Deanna’s written an article about your mother. About how the family had her committed to an institution.”
    His head snapped back as if I’d hit him physically. “You talked to her?”
    I swallowed past the painful lump in my throat. “Weeks ago. And again this afternoon. I’m so sorry, Jax. I should never have contacted her. I had no idea...”
    He stared at me, unblinking, his body so still I knew I’d knocked his legs right out from under him. “Sit down,” he ordered, with dangerous softness. “And tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”
    I practically fell into the seat in front of his desk, my knees shaking from the way he looked at me. His dark eyes were like a shark’s, hard and lifeless. “Remember when I said I was going to do some research and—”
    “You went to a goddamned reporter?” He surged to his feet and slapped his palms down hard on his desktop. “Are you insane? ”
    “I contacted Deanna as a friend. Before you talked to me about never having privacy again!”
    “Do you realize what you’ve done? How much damage this might cause? My mother’s disease was never supposed to become fodder for the fucking media!”
    “Jax...” I stood, then flinched when he shoved away from his desk so violently he knocked his desk chair over. “I know this is terribly personal—and painful—but a lot of families are impacted by mental illness. People are going to understand and—”
    “She wasn’t crazy, Gia,” he said coldly. “She was a drunk.”
    The venom in his voice took me aback.
    He faced the window. “She couldn’t handle the pressure.”
    That single statement told me so much. My eyes burned as memories coalesced in my mind and were refracted back with a clarity I’d lacked before. “Alcoholism is an illness, Jax. You said it yourself.”
    “She was weak.” His arms crossed. “She married the wrong man for what she wanted.”
    “They loved each other. That’s what you told me before.”
    He shrugged. “Parker is trying to change the world. She would’ve preferred him to just change the light bulb or a channel on the television.”
    “She didn’t like politics?”
    “She didn’t like the life that goes with them.” Jax faced me. “Agendas require allies and allies require compromises. She didn’t like some of the compromises that had to be made. Alcohol was liquid courage for her. She used it as a crutch.”
    I deflated into my chair, overloaded by the emotional highs and lows I’d bounced between all day. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Jax and hold him, but I knew he’d never let me help. That stung.
    “Jax... When you said someone you loved had been torn up by the stress, you were talking about her, weren’t you?”
    He flinched, and I finally felt like I had a shot at understanding him. I certainly understood why he’d been such an ass about the drink I’d had at