He winces. “It’s probably for the best you don’t know either.”
Well fuck me. This is a problem but, unfortunately, it’ll have to be for Future Me to deal with. My plate’s kinda full right now. Besides, I’ve never seen the guy so serene. He might as well enjoy it while he can. So, I also don’t mention that it’ll take a hell of a lot more than one hundred thousand dollars to do whatever he’s planning to do with Kline’s son.
Early Monday morning, after practice, I’m by my locker when my phone rings. “Where is he?” Father says.
“Where’s who, sir?”
“Gregory Kline.”
You know? If I never hear his name again, it’ll be too fucking soon.
“I didn’t know he was missing, sir.”
He curses. “When he’s found—and he will be found—we’re not putting off the family merger any longer. You’ll marry Gregory.”
“But sir?—”
“Your tattoo removal starts today. It’s part of the contract, which I’ve signed.”
“What the fuck? You can’t sign me over in a goddamn contract.”
“Someone will pick you up today after classes for your appointment,” he carries on, ignoring me.
He’s gone after that. No negotiations or even confirmations, expecting his word to be followed. And as much as I’m trying topush back, I’m very aware that Griff’s stilloncampus. But for how long?
Do what he says, and it’ll stay that way, a little voice whispers, even though I fucking know that’s not true. How can any part of me still be that fucking naïve? I’ve let Father string me along for years, chipping away at my autonomy until I have almost nothing left.
I slam my locker shut, rubbing a hand over my face. My one saving grace is that Kline’s missing for now. Maybe he’ll stay missing. Wait, does his son know he’s missing? Fuck, I better not have him knocking at my door, too.
By lunch, I’ve resigned myself to going to the appointment, and the tidal wave of dread that comes with that consumes me. I constantly scan the exits, analyzing all the faces, pulse pounding in my throat. My brain’s decided to come up with a thousand reasons why Father wants me off campus. Is this when he’ll take Griff?
My fingers itch to call Tate. This is why I made the deal with him. This isn’t the time for my ugly pride to show its face.
What’s stopping me?
“I have to be off campus today,” I announce to the table. “I shouldn’t be long, but I need someone to watch over Griff.”
“I’ll do it,” Rhys says. There’s something final in his voice. As if he’d be doing it anyway. But I would have thought my other friends would volunteer, too. Rhys clears his throat.
“Uh, I’ll help,” Torin says. “I’ll get Scout on the case.”
“Where Scout is, you’ll find Wren,” Gideon—stalkerGideon—says. I shouldn’t be judging him, but maybe I am just a little. Besides my misgivings about stalking, his little addiction might divert his focus, though, so I’m glad it’ll be his brother, not him, looking out for Griff.
“Thanks, guys.”
Kane hasn’t said anything. We all look in his direction. “I have a life, Ryan. We can’t all jump when you bark orders. Why aren’t you asking your rich boyfriend for some help?”
Is he the echo in my head? “I don’t expect anyone to jump. What’s your fucking problem today?” He’s usually supportive.
“Leave it,” he snaps. He glares at the table, pointedly not eating, tapping his fingers against the wood.
“Consider it left. Jesus.” I exchange a look with Rhys, because Kane’s not okay, but if I ask him what’s wrong, I’ll just get snapped at again. He makes a cutting motion across his throat.
After all that, I can’t help but search for Griff, the nervous energy buzzing through me. My eyes land on his shaved head, his hair’s grown out enough to hit the North Point military fade. Clean on the sides, enough on top to see the burning amber. I can almost make out his freckles from here.
That haunting sensation hollowing my insides returns. He looks fine, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to happen. Even if I stay, what can I do to stop them from taking Griff? A heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“They’ll have to get through me,” Rhys says. “And you know that not much gets by me.”
