Ms. Patel quietly stated the fucking obvious. “It was extremely traumatic for him. We’ve endeavored to give Connor the support he needs, but he’s simply not cooperating. His biological father isn’t in the picture at all?”
Logan huffed. “Waste of space. Took off down to Florida years ago. Every once in a while he shows up with expensive presents and a bunch of bullshit stories. For a smart kid, you’d think Connor could see through him. The guy has zero interest in being a father.”
“When was the last time you were in touch with Mr. Lisowski?”
“Dunno. After Veronica died. I don’t know if Connor’s talked to him.”
“A few texts, apparently. You don’t feel he can be any help in this situation?”
“Fucked if I know.” He winced. “Excuse my language again.”
She waved off his apology. “I’d need your permission to speak to Mr. Lisowski about Connor since you’re the legal guardian. I understand Connor’s mother had been a foster child? No family?”
“Right. If you think he can help, call him, but he probably won’t answer. Mike couldn’t care less about the kid if he tried.”
She picked up a gold and silver pen and wrote in a leather-bound notebook. Logan watched her pen making loops and swoops before she capped it and looked back at him. “I understand you’re currently out of work?”
Anger flared, a hot burst in his veins. What she meant was: I understand you’re a useless sack of shit? He barked, “Look, are we going to talk about whatever Connor did, or what?”
“Yes, of course.” She folded her hands again, calm as anything. “You know that Connor’s full scholarship is incumbent upon him keeping his grades at a minimum of a B average. And even more importantly, it requires him to behave in an orderly, respectable manner. To not put himself or any of his classmates in harm’s way.”
Fuck. “What did he do?”
“Connor dropped his backpack down the gap in the stairwell from an upper floor.”
“Oh.” That didn’t seem so bad? “Did he break something?”
“The bag hit another student in the lower leg and caused significant pain and bruising. If it had hit him in the head, it very well could have killed him. This is no laughing matter or a ‘boys will be boys’ situation. Perhaps that recklessness would fly in a public school, but this is Rencliffe, Mr. Derwood.”
All he could do was nod like he was back in the principal’s office. “I understand. It was a stupid thing to do. It won’t happen again.”
She sighed, sitting back with a squeak of leather. “I sincerely hope not. We’ve attempted to engage him repeatedly, but he’s sullen and uncooperative. Connor has a brilliant mind. He used to be one of our best students. We’ve been cutting him a lot of slack, but he needs to curb this destructive and harmful behavior. Not only toward his classmates, but himself.”
Logan went very still. “What do you mean? Is he, like, cutting himself or something?”
“Not that we know of. But he’s skipping classes, showing up late, and not completing assignments. Getting into fights, as you know from your discussion with Mr. Howard a few weeks ago. Connor’s going to fail his courses, and we know it’s not because of his intelligence. The term exams are next week, concluding on Friday, December twenty-first, followed by the holiday break.”
“Right.” The colorful ceramic tree in the corner of Ms. Patel’s office seemed to mock him with its cheery lights and glossy snow. The holidays were supposed to be a magical time for kids, and what would Logan be able to give Connor? A roof over their heads if Logan was lucky.
“If Connor performs at a B level on his exams—which should be infinitely doable for him even without studying a word—and if he stays in line, he’s welcome back in January to turn things around.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Logan gripped the arms of the chair.
“Then I’m afraid Connor’s tenure here at Rencliffe will end. You should investigate the public school options in your neighborhood, although I sincerely hope it won’t be necessary.”
My neighborhood.
Where was that, exactly? The rented house he was about to be evicted from? He rubbed a hand over his face, a week of scruff scratching his palm. “Okay.”
“Mr. Derwood, I assure you we want Connor to succeed. It would truly be a shame if he squanders his limitless potential. He’s had a full scholarship here for two years because we believe in him. But he has to meet us halfway. It’s been months of acting out, and while we’re very sympathetic, we have to think of the other students. Connor has been too disruptive for too long.”
“Yeah. I get it.” He pushed to his feet. “You’ve been fair. Thank you.” He stuck out his hand, and she shook it firmly.
“Connor’s waiting in the atrium. I can take you there.”
“I know the way. Thanks.”
When he reached the high-ceilinged greenhouse down the hall—all glass and flowering plants and even a tinkling fountain, Logan found Connor tossing stones from a rock garden into the pool of water. Two stone fish were twisted together in the middle, water spouting out of their open mouths.
Connor didn’t turn, instead plonking a rock right at one of the fish heads. His navy uniform jacket was stretched tightly across his narrow shoulders, gray pants a bit too short.
If he gets kicked out, I guess I don’t have to pony up for new uniforms.
That wasn’t much of a silver lining. “Hey,” Logan said, jamming his fists in his pockets. Shit, he never knew what to say to this kid.
Connor ignored him, bending to scoop up more rocks. Logan stood there and let him finish that handful before he said, “Are you going to knock off the crap you’ve been pulling? You’re smarter than this.”
Another rock dinged off the stone fish’s head. “You don’t know anything about me. You’re not my father.”
“I know. But I’m…” Logan didn’t know. In the eyes of Ms. Patel, he was a single dad, and he felt like such a fake. But he was all the kid had left.
“You’re just the asshole loser my mom married because she hated being alone.”
It shouldn’t have hurt, yet Logan’s chest tightened the way it did when he exerted himself too much, his breath coming short. Right now it was completely in his head, and he reminded himself of that as he forced in a gulp of air. He was sorely tempted to leave Connor to his sulking misery, but he had to be the grown-up.
“You took forever to show up.” Connor turned, narrowing his dark gaze. The kid was maybe five-two, a full foot shorter than Logan and probably a hundred pounds soaking wet. Still, he internally cringed as Connor sized him up. “Bet you were hungover.”
Logan breathed out evenly, ignoring the tug in his chest. I’m the adult here. He doesn’t really know me at all. “I wasn’t hungover. I had to borrow Jenna’s car. Mine’s in the shop.”
“Sure. Bet you were out late screwing sluts, just like you were before my mom died.”
“Hey!” Logan clenched his jaw, imagining they were being watched through all the glass windows, the heat of hidden eyes crawling on his skin. He gritted out, “First off, don’t use that word. Second, I never cheated on your mother. Never.”
Connor muttered, “Yeah, right.”
“I didn’t.” Christ, he’d barely jerked off since she died. Didn’t even wake up to morning wood anymore—even his dick knew how useless he was. “Listen to me—”
“Why?” Connor’s sandy hair was a shaggy mess over his ears, which was probably a dress code violation or something. Was Logan supposed to take him to get his hair cut?
Connor’s lip curled as Logan stayed silent. “You’re such an idiot. No wonder you barely graduated high school.”
Logan didn’t argue for his own intelligence since the kid had a point. Look at the mess Logan had made of his life. But he was all Connor had, so he stood there and took it.
Veronica had loudly questioned his faithfulness a few months before she died. Logan didn’t really blame her—he’d stayed out late
r and later to avoid their fights about everything from doing the dishes to which way to put the damn toilet paper. She’d assumed the worst about his absences, although he wasn’t a cheater.
In the small house, of course Connor had heard all their shouting matches. Logan wanted to comfort Connor in his grief—their grief—but everything was poisoned between them. He had no clue how to fix it.
Summoning patience, Logan unclenched his hands. He spoke calmly but firmly—the way the parenting vids he’d watched on YouTube advised. “Listen to me. They’re going to expel you.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “They won’t go through with it. No way.”
“They will. You’re here on their good graces, and they’ve had enough of your shit. Ask Ms. Patel. You could have put that kid in the hospital with your prank. Why would you drop your bag like that?”
With a jerk of a shrug, Connor said, “Dunno. To see what would happen.” He added defensively, “No one was down there when I let go! Then stupid Tim walked out.”
“You know it wasn’t his fault. But listen—Ms. Patel told me you’re out if you don’t get a B on your exams and stop acting up. This is serious. They’re going to expel you. She told me to look into other schools.”
Connor’s perma-scowl evaporated as his brown eyes went wide. In a heartbeat, he looked so fucking young, his voice breaking. “Really? She said that?”
The poor kid was angry and hurt and surging with confusing new testosterone on top of it all. Logan tried to soften his voice. “Yeah. And if you get kicked out of here, you’re stuck with me full time. So hit the books and cut the shit, okay?”
The bluster returned in an instant, and Connor raised his chin. “I’ll go live with my dad in Florida. I’m sick of the cold anyway.”
No, you won’t, because your dad doesn’t give a goddamn about you.
Forcing an even tone, Logan said, “Your mom always talked about what a genius you are. That she knew it from the time you could barely talk.”
Connor’s brows drew together, and he fidgeted with his fingers, shifting from foot to foot. “She… She did?”
“Yep. She was so proud of you, getting a full ride to Rencliffe out of elementary school. She used to smile so big when she talked about you. You know, how her eyes got squinty and her nose would crinkle?”
Connor nodded, biting his lip. Even with the pimples and attitude, he looked like a baby sometimes. Logan wanted to tell him everything would be okay and give him a hug the way kids deserved to be hugged, but the few times he’d awkwardly tried anything like that, it had resulted in Connor shoving him away.
Logan sighed. “I know you hate me. I don’t blame you.” He laughed hollowly. “There’s plenty to hate. But you’ve got a good thing here. They want to help you. So let them. Okay? You can get a B on your exams in your sleep. Stop skipping class and screwing around. Make your mom proud.”
After a few moments, Connor nodded, his jaw tight. He toyed with a plaid scarf hanging around his neck, and Logan eyed it. “Is that the one Jenna gave you at Thanksgiving?” They’d always done one gift for everyone at Thanksgiving in Logan’s family for some reason. He didn’t even know how the tradition had started.
Connor scoffed. “Dunno. I guess.” He whipped it off and stuffed it in his uniform jacket pocket. “I was cold.”
“She says hi, by the way.”
“Whatever. Tell her hi back.” He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at the end of next week when school gets out.” Assuming you don’t get expelled in the meantime. Logan could only pray he’d somehow land a job so he could afford rent and food and maybe a few presents for the kid. If there was ever a time for a Christmas miracle, it was now.
Connor rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.”
Ms. Patel appeared before Logan had to think of anything else to say. She smiled warmly. “Connor, are you up for a talk before you go back to class?”
Thank Christ the kid nodded and followed her out. Logan gave her a tight smile and made his way back through the main building and out to the parking lot. The birds still chirped, the sun peeking out from steel clouds. His phone buzzed, and this time there was a text message from Mrs. Politano:
Without rent I can’t eat. Time’s up. Changing the locks in two days, so get your stuff out.
Logan tasted bile. That was a definite no-go on the holiday miracle. He climbed behind the wheel of his baby sister’s shiny SUV and tried not to cry like the pathetic, useless sack of shit he was.
Chapter Two
When the staff email hit his inbox, Seth rolled his eyes at the all-caps “URGENT!” in the subject line and went back to his spreadsheet. To the receptionist/office manager, everything was URGENT!, including—but not limited to—running out of mochaccino coffee pods in the break room too quickly, overusing staples, and the minimum length of shorts on casual Fridays in summer (eleven-and-a-half-inch inseam).
At her desk a few feet away in their pod, Jenna gasped. “She’s here! Oh my God.”
“Hmm?” Seth glanced over as Jenna whirled around on her chair, her hand catching a garland and sending a bright pink ornament rolling across her desk.
Jenna’s side of the pod was an explosion of life and holiday cheer. After Thanksgiving, she’d strung colored fairy lights over the top of her monitor, and sparkly red garlands snaked between framed family photographs on both sides of her desk, ornaments nestled throughout.
Seth had no such photos since he had no family at all—at least not any who would actually talk to him. The jagged edges of that particular pain had dulled after twelve years, but as another lonely Christmas approached, he had to force away the memories more than usual.
Jenna hissed, “Angela Barker is here!”
His heart skipped. “Wait, what? Why?”
“Surprise visit.” Jenna pressed a hand to her chest. “What if they’re doing a re-org? But the CEO wouldn’t be the one to come and fire people. Right?”
“They promised our positions were safe when BRK bought us out.” His stomach dropped. He’d moved to Albany. He’d bought a house. He’d been dumped by his boyfriend—was his job next? “They promised,” he repeated weakly. Of course, everyone knew what a corporate promise was worth these days.
I’m going to have nothing but a half-finished house to my name.
“Why did she have to come the day I have spit-up on my blouse?” Jenna rubbed despairingly at the mark on her shoulder, which she’d dabbed with Seth’s Tide pen when she’d arrived.
There was no denying the green blouse was stained, but Seth said, “It’s not noticeable at all. Can barely see it now.”
“You’re a liar, but a sweet one.” Jenna opened her top drawer and pulled out a compact. She blotted at her nose and then tugged her blond curls loose from her customary ponytail and squinted at her reflection in the little mirror. “Nope,” she muttered before tying her hair back up again. “Frizz city.”
“It’s fine,” Seth said. “You look great.” He glanced down at himself. He wore a standard work outfit—pressed gray slacks, button-down shirt in blue, and a navy tie. His black Oxfords were polished. He ran a hand over his short, thick, brown hair, which he kept neatly combed back. “Do I look okay?”
Jenna didn’t even glance up as she examined the stain on her blouse with her compact mirror. “Of course. You look perfect as always. I should have done my hair this morning, but the baby was being so fussy, and Ian refused to wear long sleeves even though it’s supposed to snow today.”
As she grumbled about what a pain in the butt five-year-olds were, Seth adjusted the knot on his tie half an inch higher before smoothing a palm down the subtly patterned silk. He snorted mentally. Perfect. Jenna always insisted he was classically handsome (”like Jimmy Stewart!”), but if he was so perfect, why had Brandon left him?
Nope. Abort. Focus on the current crisis.
He stopped himself from tumbling down the rabbit hole of why, a question he knew he’d never really answer
. Brandon was gone. The end. It had been more than a year for Pete’s sake.
Because I wasn’t enough. That’s why.
“Focus,” Seth muttered to himself as Matt’s head appeared over the partition that separated Seth and Jenna’s desks from the next pod.
Matt’s ruddy face was flushed even more than usual beneath his pale, shaggy hair. “Guys. I’ve got the scoop.” Jenna wheeled her chair over to Seth’s with one push, bumping into him. The other two desks behind them in their pod were empty since the interns had finished for the semester.
Matt glanced around and whispered over the partition, “They’re implementing a new structure. Allegedly no one’s getting fired, but we’ll see. Angela’s picking five new directors herself. It’s this thing she does. You know how she’s all about the company being like family?”
Jenna said, “Uh-huh. ‘Family values’ to the point where people married with kids get ahead more.”
“What?” Seth sputtered. “But that’s not fair.”
Jenna and Matt stared at him like he had three heads. Matt said, “How do you not know this already? I sent you the link to the subreddit on Angela and BRK Sync when they bought us out last month.” He fiddled with the collar of his suit jacket, which he wore over a T-shirt. There were undoubtedly dark suede sneakers on his feet instead of dress shoes, but since he was the graphic designer in the communications department, everyone let it go. Young creative types and all that.
“That message board?” Seth asked. “I’ve been busy working.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Well, this has happened at every other company BRK has absorbed. Married with kids gets you ahead. Becky said Angela’s going to be here all week, and she’s taking us on some family Christmas retreat next weekend, so cancel your plans. Her way of welcoming us to the clan.”
Matt was sleeping with Becky, the alarmist receptionist/office manager, so Seth had no doubt the intel was good. Seth muttered, “Is this a corporation or a cult?”
The Christmas Deal Page 2