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Trent was there for me, always.
And I was going to show him that the feeling was mutual, even at the high cost of playtime with Rosie.
When we all graduated from our designated colleges all around the country (Jaime was in Texas, I was in Massachusetts, Vicious in L.A., and Trent went to some bullshit state school in San Diego), I didn’t even blink before I gave him a four-million-dollar loan to make him a partner and have him launch Fiscal Heights Holdings with us.
I didn’t blink, but my parents fucking crucified me. I had to vouch for him somehow—it wasn’t like I had that kind of money in my bank account—so both Trent and I spent our summers away from college filing shit in my dad’s office and doing Starbucks runs for free. Providing free taxi services for both my sisters. Acting as my family’s designated bitches.
And, of course, Trent and I both signed a draconic contract so Dad knew that he would get his money back.
Trent lived in a studio apartment in Chicago long after we all became self-made rich so he could pay Eli Cole back. In fact, he only just moved to a bigger place after Luna was born because he needed to accommodate the new unexpected addition to his life. I’d say family, but they weren’t much of a family, especially after Val skipped town like a fucking deadbeat dad.
I swallowed.
Logically, I knew Trent had help. His parents were there for him. But everything else about me was desperate to see for myself that Luna was okay. So I packed a bag before everyone else, leaving Las Vegas—and Rosie—behind me.
Dean
Last minute change – going back to Todos Santos to spend some time with Trent.
Rosie
If he needs anything, let me know. I’d love to help.
Dean
Thx. Again, sorry about Sunday night. Do YOU need anything?
Rosie
No. Just forget about it. Seriously. We’re both clean, right?
Dean
Right.
Since Rosie wasn’t the type to steal sperm—that was more like Val’s hobby—I gathered she was on the pill or something. It would have been nice if she put me out of my misery and said it, but it wasn’t any of my fucking business. I needed to move on and take her word for it. No matter how strongly I felt about this particular subject.
Dean
I’ll miss you.
Rosie
You’ll survive. I’ve missed you for eleven years.
Dean
I’ll make sure you get enough of me now.
Once in Todos Santos, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I was so distracted with everything Trent and Rosie, I answered before I checked the number. It was unlike me, and the minute I pressed the green button, I remembered why.
“Yeah?”
“Jesus, finally. I thought you’d never answer,” Nina groaned in frustration. My heart dropped, and my jaw clenched. The world tilted on an axis for a second, before I gathered my wits, dropped my duffel bag to the floor with a thud, and opened up Vicious’s liquor cabinet, staring at the neat line of glass bottles like they personally taunted me. I wasn’t stupid. I saw the direct correlation between my issues with her and my drinking and weed smoking.
Every time I thought of her, I wanted to forget.
Every time I talked to her, I wanted a distraction.
And she was always in the picture. Always asking for shit she didn’t deserve. Always messing with my head. Did I want her in my life? Did I not want her? Did I forgive her? Could I forgive her? Did I want to know who he was? Was he even going to want to get to know me?
“You don’t give up, do you?” I smacked my lips.
“Not really. We’re very much alike. We need to talk, Dean, and you know it,” she purred. She had a way with words. The perfect charmer. A constant flirt. Shame it was wasted on me, but that was another reminder to how similar we were. It deflated me, because she was the very person I hated more than anything else.
“Not interested, Nina, and you can shove the rest of your ‘every son needs a father’ speech up your ass, where it belongs.”
“I have your happiness in the palm of my hand.” She ignored me. I knew exactly what she meant.
“Still not interested.”
“Give me six hundred K and it’s yours. You can find him. Meet him. Talk to him. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn’t. I was still on the fence. The fact that she thought it was okay to blackmail me, even after all these years, was mind-blowing in itself.
“I gave you twenty thousand dollars less than a week ago, so you would stay the fuck away from me. I gave you money to lay low and stop calling. I paid your way out of my life, and you still can’t seem to do the only basic shit you’re required to do. Maybe this should be my last payment ever, seeing as your word isn’t worth shit anyway.”
