A Wicked Kiss (19 page)

I put most of the things back into the box, leaving out only the picture of Allen and Jasper. I put it on the desk and opened the bottom box. Stacks of files had been haphazardly stuffed into the box as if Jasper had just tossed them in. Knowing him, he’d done just that. Where Allen had been meticulous to the point of obsessive, Jasper was only that careful when it came to dealing with people. He was much less particular about filing, which was why he’d been more than happy to hire Georgia at the clinic.

I wasn’t going to read any of the information, but I couldn’t let the files stay in there like that either. I didn’t know how he planned to file things from his father’s practice, but I could at least put things together so that it would be easier for him once he decided what to do.

The box was wide enough to fit the files on end, with the patients’ names facing up. I tried not to look at them as I arranged them, not bothering to try alphabetizing or anything like that. I was almost done when his name caught my eye.

Not Jasper’s name.

Allen’s.

He was my husband, I reasoned. And he was gone. There was no logical reason to keep things hidden anymore. I took the file and stood, walking over to the desk. I didn’t look away from Allen’s name as I sat down. My stomach was churning. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. These were confidential. It would be violating Jasper’s trust as well as Allen’s. But Allen was gone. And I had a right to know. Allen’s letter had said he was sick and that Jasper had known, but I had the files right in front of me. Files that would give me more than just a few words to try to explain why he’d left me in such a cruel and sudden way.

Jasper never needed to know.

I set the file down on the desk and opened it.

The top file had Allen’s basic information. Latest insurance. Contact information. Medical history.

I skimmed all of that. I already knew it. The date on the top was from a couple weeks before he’d died. Underneath was what I really wanted and I read through each bit carefully.

Then I read them all again because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

X-rays with post-it notes confirming everything was clear.

A CT scan reading that said no issues had been found.

Blood work results that listed two pages worth of tests run.

His blood pressure had been a bit high, but not dangerously so. Everything else had been within a healthy range.

Brain scans and even a spinal tap.

All clear.

I was no doctor, but I couldn’t see anything in here that said Allen had been sick. It didn’t make any sense. Allen had written that he’d gone to Jasper for tests because he’d known Jasper would sign off on his health even if something was wrong.

I frowned as I looked further into the file. There were half a dozen physicals Allen had done over the past decade, all without any indication of problems.

There had to be something missing. This couldn’t be it.

I shut the file and leaned back in the chair.

“Dammit,” I muttered.

I just wanted answers. I was trying to move on, but it was hard to do when I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around Allen having committed suicide because he was sick. I needed to see it for myself.

I’d researched the disease Allen had mentioned in his letter and I’d actually had a couple nightmares about it. It was horrible, taking someone from seemingly perfect health to death in months, weeks. And it did it in a brutal way. Loss of motor function. Recognition. Speech. I’d seen families write that it was like watching the person they loved wasting away right in front of them.

I wouldn’t have wanted that for Allen, and I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to have to watch him go through it. But I still needed to see it in black and white, needed to see that diagnosis.

Then I saw it.

Allen’s laptop.

In all of my cleaning, I hadn’t done anything with it. It wasn’t like clothes or things I’d wanted to donate or like his favorite foods that I’d thrown away. This was an expensive piece of equipment. I’d just left it. I had my own laptop so I hadn’t planned on using it, but I’d completely forgotten to figure out what to do with it.

I plugged it in and turned it on. I didn’t know what I was expecting to find, but I knew there had to be something that could answer my questions.

I skimmed through a few files and then booted up the email program. New junk mail and newsletters flooded in and I spent the next fifteen minutes wading through all of that before I reached Allen’s last correspondence.

The first two I opened were from customers of the winery who’d kept in touch with Allen, wanting to know about the latest batch. Then there was one from his brother Marcus regarding their father’s health and how Allen’s absence wasn’t helping things.

My heart nearly stopped when the next email came up on my screen.

I agree with you that you should take out a bigger insurance policy. You want to make sure that Shae is taken care of, especially if you think your parents would try to take the vineyard if something happened to you. Come see me and I’ll do some tests. If there is something wrong with you, I’ll help you out with the insurance. Shae deserves to be taken care of. And don’t worry about trying to help me out with the clinic. I’ll be fine. We need to make sure you’re okay first. I’ll get the money somehow.

Jasper.

Jasper.

He’d known about the insurance. He’d encouraged Allen to take it out. And he’d known that Allen had wanted to help him with the clinic.

I looked at the file and my stomach churned.

Were the files in the folder the ones Jasper had sent to the insurance company and he’d trashed the real ones just in case someone wanted to look at Allen’s records?

I supposed that was possible, but I couldn’t see Jasper not keeping the real records somewhere else. He was too good of a doctor for that.

Another thought was forming in my mind and it was one I really didn’t want to consider.

The thought that these files were Allen’s true test results and Jasper had lied to Allen about the diagnosis, knowing how his best friend would react. For all I knew, he’d not only encouraged Allen to get the insurance, but had encouraged him to end things on his own terms.

I’d gone through the file and email to get answers, but now all I had was more questions.

Chapter 24

I spent the next hour arguing with myself about what I was going to do with the information I’d found. Part of me felt guilty about what I’d done to get it, but most of me was pissed off. Pissed and getting even angrier with every passing minute. Angry at myself for thinking the worst of Jasper. Angry at Jasper for having this file.

Hell, I was angry at the file for existing.

How fucked up was that? I was angry at the test results and papers in that file because they made me even more confused than I’d already been. Confused and doubting. I hated that I was doubting again, doubting what I knew, doubting myself.

Doubting Jasper.

I didn’t want to doubt him. He was too important to me. I had friends, acquaintances and family, though the numbers were definitely small, but I didn’t have anyone else like him. I cared about him. Trusted him.

I sighed. Who was I trying to kid? I was falling for him, and I had been for a while.

And now this.

By the time Jasper came in, I’d almost made up my mind to let the whole thing go. To accept that Allen was gone and it didn’t matter what those records said. I had a letter from him, telling me what he’d believed. That could be the truth.

Then Jasper looked at the file sitting on the coffee table and I knew letting it go wasn’t an option now.

“Where did that come from?” His voice was flat.

I crossed my arms and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I thought I’d unpack some of the boxes in the office.” I paused, but he didn’t say anything so I continued, “The last box had some files thrown in it.”

“So you just thought you’d go through my patient files?”

I could hear the undercurrent of anger in his question.

“No.” I shook my head. I was upset, but I needed him to know what happened before I addressed what was in that file. “I only straightened them. That’s all. I didn’t even alphabetize them because I didn’t want to look at the names.”

He gave me a hard look, then nodded. “All right. Then what’s that?” He gestured towards the file again.

“It’s Allen’s.”

A cold silence fell between us and I rubbed my hands over my arms. Jasper took a slow breath and then let it out, but his eyes were still blank, unreadable.

“He was my husband,” I said, feeling the pressure in my chest start to build again. “I had a right to know.”

Jasper frowned. “I told you everything, Shae.”

He walked over to stand in front of me, but he didn’t touch me. The tension between us was palpable.

“Did you?” My voice was sharper than I’d intended it to be. “Did you tell me everything, Jasper?”

His mouth flattened. “Yes, Shae. When you got that letter, I told you everything. I’ve never lied to you.”

I picked up the file and slapped it against his chest. “Then why don’t you explain to me why there’s nothing in this file about Jasper being sick. Is this the file you sent to the insurance company? Tell me that it is.”

He opened the file and glanced at the papers inside. After just a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“How about the truth?” I asked. He wasn’t denying anything, only flipping through the file with a confused look on his face. “I found your email.”

“What email?” He dropped the file onto the coffee table. “Shae, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you need to believe me. I’ve never seen that file before. I sent an old report to the insurance company, yes, but I didn’t keep anything because I could lose my license if anyone found out what I’d done.”

He was right about that, but the file was right there. It was hard to argue with something that was right in front of me.

“You didn’t email Allen and tell him to take out that extra insurance policy?” I put my hands on my hips. “You didn’t tell him that you’d find the money for your clinic somewhere else? That taking care of him was the most important thing and that you’d help him get insurance if he really was sick?”

“No.” Jasper shook his head. “I never said any of that. I swear, Shae, I only suspected about the policy. I didn’t know about him wanting to give me money for the clinic until you told me.”

“I read the email, Jasper.” I swallowed hard.

“What are you talking about?” His eyes were darkening, and not from any sort of lust or desire.

“The email on Allen’s computer,” I said. I glared at Jasper, wondering how he could’ve done this. How he could’ve lied to me. “I still have his laptop. I read it.”

“I didn’t send a damn email!” Jasper’s voice was harsh. “Why would I lie to you? I told you what I did and you forgave me for it. Why the hell would I lie about something like this?”

“I don’t know!” My eyes burned. “But the file’s there. The email’s there.”

“Shae...” He ran his hand through his hair. “Why would I do anything to risk what we have? I love you.”

I shook my head. “You say that but—”

“I’ve been in love with you almost from the moment Allen introduced us.”

I stopped and stared. That couldn’t be true. Maybe he’d said that he loved me sort of fast, but nothing about our relationship was normal. We’d found each other under strange and intense circumstances. That was all. He’d been my friend and things had just gone from there.

He hadn’t thought about me as anything other than a friend before...

He’d kissed me.

The memory shocked me.

I remembered, of course, the first time Jasper and I had slept together, how accepting he’d been of whatever I wanted to do with what had happened. I’d been the one to kiss him then and it had been impulsive. I’d been drunk and lonely, but I’d wanted him.

But that hadn’t been the first time we’d kissed. He’d kissed me before that. Two months before. Was it possible that the reason he’d done it, the reason he’d freaked out so badly afterwards, was because he’d been wanting to do it before Allen had died?

“You what?” The words were barely a whisper.

“I’ve been in love with you for eight years, Shae.” Jasper’s voice was as soft as mine, but he wasn’t looking at me. “But you were Allen’s.”

“Why...you...” This was not how I’d expected this conversation to go. Or any conversation to go for that matter.

“Like I said. You were Allen’s.” He shrugged. “And after...it just didn’t seem important.”

“Not important.” I kept staring at him as my brain tried to process what he was saying.

How could I not have known?

Had Allen known?

I couldn’t believe that Allen would’ve known and not said something, but how does a person tell his girlfriend – his wife – that his best friend is in love with her? If Allen had known, how could he and Jasper still have stayed friends?