Page 7

“Help manage the tour…” Taylor trails off after a grimace. “With us and Devon.”

My lungs cease to function. Every muscle in my body locks up, bristling at the sound of his name. I shake my head so fast that I grow dizzy. “No. Absolutely not.”

“That’s what I said, too.” Salem glares sideways at Taylor. “And yet, here I am.”

Tay gives me a look that I hate—the one with those pouty aquamarine eyes that get him everything he wants. “Logan,” he pleads, holding my gaze. “You need this.”

“What I need is for all of you to leave me the fuck alone,” I snap, barely hanging onto my patience.

Why can’t they just let me wallow in misery?

Salem growls in frustration before grabbing Tay by the arm. “See? Told you he wouldn’t come, now let’s go. He’s a waste of time.”

That comment fucking hurts, but I just glower at my screen as they turn away, eager for the moment when I can curl up under my desk and scream into my arms.

Been doing that a lot lately—new hobbies and all that.

Just as they’re about to leave the cubicle, a tall figure steps in front of them and blocks their exit. Whatever self-pity I was feeling quickly morphs into hatred when my dad—my adopted dad—steps inside. His mere presence seems to suck all the oxygen from the room.

I don’t even need to check to know the look on his face—I’ve only seen it a thousand times over the last year. Mostly disapproval, with a touch of anger because I’ve hardly spoken to him or my mom outside of work since the night I found out the truth: They gave Devon up to my grandparents as teenagers only to adopt me five years later.

I brace myself as his sharp gaze sweeps the room, landing first on Taylor, then⁠—

Oh, shit.

Salem.

The shift is instant. His face hardens, lips pressing into a thin line. I can feel the disgust radiating off him in waves. They never liked her, my parents. Granted, we secretly dated, but once Taylor let it slip that we were together, they had even more reason to hate her. And because we were living together ”in sin,” they forced me to propose.

She said no, by the way. Only to fuck Devon and then beg me to marry her in Vegas afterword.

Bunch of fucking hypocrites. All of them.

Salem, to her credit, doesn’t even flinch. She tilts her head casually and observes the man in front of her. “So. You must be Mr. Peterson.”

Dad’s nostrils flare, anger flickering across his brown eyes. “And you must be the mistake my son almost made.”

That causes me to flinch.

Salem just snorts. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Dad doesn’t answer, only turns to me with a clipped tone. “Logan, your little friends need to leave. This is a business, not a strip club. We’ve work to do.”

I grit my teeth before letting out a sharp exhale. “They were already on their way out.”

“You have responsibilities, son. This—” He gestures at them like they’re dogshit on his shoe. “—is not one of them. I’m fed up with you slacking off.”

Salem smacks her lips and nudges Taylor. “Jesus, the whole family has a stick up their ass.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, glancing between us like fists are about to fly.

My dad doesn’t even glance at them, his gaze locked on mine, but he’s staring through me. He’s looking instead of seeing.

Something ugly twists in my chest.

“I’m not a kid,” I grit through my teeth.

He huffs, raising a brow. “No? Because you’ve certainly been acting like it, son.”