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Chapter 19
Tip #19: A real man holds you when you want to cry.
EDEN
The incident at the party yesterday evening was… weird. And that’s putting it mildly.
I’d never seen Hunter so agitated. Nervous. Words that I normally wouldn’t associate with a man like him. He’s so put together, has his shit figured out. And yet, when he held onto me last night as we faced off with that Walton guy, I swear I could feel him shaking.
Was it with rage? With fear? A combination of both?
I want to ask questions, but I’m afraid I’ll drown in the answers. Who is Jack Walton? What did Hunter mean by Charlie’s debts? How does Dad factor into all of this? I wonder if I should even be asking in the first place.
A quick Google search turns up nothing. Zilch.
Jack Walton is a ghost. No social media, no news articles, no nothing. It’s unheard of for Tinseltown. If he’s able to afford a beach-front property and rub elbows with celebrities and throw extravagant —and in many cases illegal— parties, surely there must be something on the guy out there.
The only thing I manage to dig up is a logo. A dragon with the words J. W. Group at the base of the design. The shape itself is familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it until…
“Hunter’s tattoo,” I realize aloud.
My head swims. How is everything connected? I have bits and pieces of the puzzle, but I can’t imagine how they all fit together.
“What’d you say?” Taylor asks me when she wanders into the kitchen.
I’m seated at the table, my laptop in front of me with ten different search tabs open. I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Taylor yawns widely. “You’re not studying first thing in the morning, are you? You’re going to fry your brain.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not. I’ve been so busy at work that I missed the deadline to apply for the MCAT exam.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, it’s just as well. I didn’t think I was ready, anyway.”
“When’s the next exam? You don’t have to wait very long, do you?”
“Not very long at all. They host more than twenty times a year. I can always put it off until next month if I have to.”
Taylor squints at me. “You feeling alright, babe? You look kinda… tired.”
“I’m good, I promise. Just a little overworked.”
She pumps her brows suggestively. “Boy, I’ll say.”
“Shut up,” I reply, though there isn’t a trace of heat behind it.
“I was very surprised you didn’t end up spending the night with your sexy man toy, you know. I hope he knows I wasn’t being serious about bringing you home by midnight.”
“He knows. We just… weren’t feeling the party.”
“That’s too bad.”
I glance at my watch quickly, realizing how late it’s gotten. “I have to be at the office in an hour. Help yourself to the waffles I made. Consider it payment for always lending me your dresses.”
Taylor gasps in delight. “You’re a fucking saint and I love you.”
I laugh. “I love you, too.”
