by Luma Rose
I understand why Asher and Ryker did what they did, but I don’t know why Carter would. We were tight, almost like brothers, and he knew I was into Isla. Why would he orchestrate all that?
“Why did Carter pick Isla specifically?” I ask.
Just saying his name out loud is painful. I try not to think of him, the same way I try not to think of my mom very often. Remembering them only brings me pain.
Asher hesitates for a moment.
“Just say it!” I yell.
“You sure?” he asks, almost like he’s warning me.
But, yeah, I want answers. Answers I should’ve demanded years ago, but with Isla gone, it was easy to pretend like it never happened. And then with everything that went down at prom, I had bigger problems.
“You’re trying my patience.”
“I wasn’t aware you had any,” Ford says with a chuckle. I turn to glare at him, and he’s lifting his glass to his lips with a shit-eating grin.
“I don’t really know why for sure, but he said that you had a thing for her. I don’t know, he seemed kind of pissed at you to be honest. I didn’t think too much of it. I mean, we were always busting each other’s balls and getting one over on each other.” He shrugs. “I figured it was something like that. Besides, we all knew you being into someone just meant until you got in her pants. Then you’d lose interest.”
I clench my fists at my side while anger boils like a lava pit in my stomach. My pulse throbs in my neck and I can hear the whooshing of my blood in my ears as my blood pressure spikes.
“Holy shit. You actually liked her,” Asher says.
“Stone, seriously?” Lincoln asks.
“It was only in high school. But, yeah, I was into her,” I begrudgingly admit. There’s no use trying to hide it—I was too slow on my denial and too angry with my questioning.
“Wow. The Big Bad Wolf fell for Little Red Riding Hood?” Ford says, again with that fucking amusement in his tone.
“Don’t bother making it a thing. My feelings changed right after she slept with this douchebag.” I motion in Asher’s direction.
“Aw, don’t be jealous I got to pop her cherry, Stone. I’m sure she’s improved now. All she did was lay there like a fish.”
I step toward him, but before I can bridge the distance, Ford is between us, gripping my shoulder and pushing me back. “Whoa, he’s fucked up.”
I wrestle against Ford to reach Asher, but Ford shoots me the look. The one that says, “you know the guy would never say something like that to you without all the drugs and alcohol.” Maybe I’m madder at Carter for his part in this, and now he’s dead and I’ll never get why he orchestrated that night.
“Oh, Christ,” Lincoln mutters.
My head whips in his direction. “What’s your problem?”
“You still have feelings for her,” he says.
I guffaw. “You’re off your fucking rocker.”
“No, he’s right. It’s true.” Ryker puts his two cents in, which is worth about half a penny in my opinion.
I push Ford’s hand off my shoulder. “I told you. I changed my mind after she slept with Asher. I’m not into sloppy seconds, unlike some of you.” I look at Asher, who’s known for his penchant for group sex. “What would be the difference anyway?”
“The difference is that you might do something to put her best interests ahead of ours.” Lincoln motions to the group of guys.
I grit my teeth and push my chest out. “We made a vow that night that we were in this together and would have each other’s backs. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Just make sure you don’t forget if you find Isla sucking on the end of your dick. Good pussy has made many a man do stupid things,” Ford says.
I narrow my eyes at him but can’t be bothered with a comeback.
“I’ve had enough of your shit. I’m headed up to my place.” I meet Lincoln’s gaze. “Let me know what you find on her parents. In the meantime, I’ll keep Isla close until we can figure out what this is all about.”
I turn and stalk toward the elevator.
“Don’t forget about the gala Saturday night,” Ford calls out.
“I haven’t forgotten about the fucking gala,” I growl, stabbing the elevator button with my finger.
The doors open immediately, and I step inside, relieved to get out from under the assessing eyes of my friends.
What the hell? Why would Carter have done this?
Unfortunately, he’s not here to give me an answer. If he were, though, I’d probably just punch him in the face first and ask questions later anyway.
14
Chapter Fourteen
Isla
Ford is speaking at the local Realtors’ business lunch today, so we’re in the back of a vehicle going over his schedule for the rest of the day, when he blindsides me by asking how my date with Garrin went the night before.
Thank goodness Hank decided to drive separately, since he has his own meeting to attend after this. I glance up at the driver and then back at Ford.
“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s paid well to keep his mouth shut. Isn’t that right, George?”
“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, sir.”
“See?” Ford raises an eyebrow at me. “So how was it?”
I shift in my seat and place the papers in my hand back into the file. “I don’t know that I’d call it a date.”
He tilts his head. “What would you call it, then?”
I shrug. “Two old acquaintances getting together to share a meal.”
“Shit, you really do sound like a press secretary for a politician.”
I laugh. “Well, I guess that’s why you hired me, right?”
“I suppose that’s true.” He shakes his head. “If you want to tell me it’s none of my business, feel free. I’m just curious to know what Garrin is like when he’s not being a prick at work or an egomaniac with the rest of us Classholes.”
I chuckle lightly. “He was fine. We talked about a lot of different things. The conversation flowed well for the most part. He was the perfect gentleman.” And what Ford doesn’t need to know is I can lie like a good press secretary too.
Ford starts laughing, clutching his middle.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone describe him as being a gentleman before, that’s all. Cruel, cold, stubborn to a fault, sure, but never a gentleman.”
A defensive reaction on Garrin’s behalf lands on the tip of my tongue, but I let it die there. Certainly Ford knows him better than I do, but for some reason the impulse to put Ford in his place is present.
“I’m sorry, I can see I’ve offended you,” he says. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I think it’s good, actually. He could use a woman in his life that he isn’t…”
He trails off and I can see from his expression that he was about to let something slip that he thought I didn’t know about.
“Paying for?” I raise an eyebrow.
Ford’s eyes widen. “He told you about that?” I nod. “Wow.”
“Can I ask you something?” I shift in my seat so that I’m facing him a little better.
“Ask away.”
“Why do you think he does that? Garrin’s obviously an attractive man. He has money, power, prestige—there’s no doubt that he must have women hitting on him all the time. Why does he spend his time with escorts?”
Ford purses his lips for a moment and draws in a deep breath. “I wish I knew. And I really don’t. I wouldn’t break bro code and tell you even if I did, but the truth is I don’t. It’s not something he ever talks about.”
“If you had to guess, though?” I press even though I shouldn’t. This is none of my business.
“I’d say it has something to do with not wanting to let anyone in. Garrin isn’t exactly the type of man who’d be comfortable being vulnerable.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I consider that for a moment. You have to really not
want to be vulnerable to only sleep with hookers. And something like that doesn’t just come about on its own. There has to be something behind it.
Deciding I’ve done enough digging for now, I decide to let the subject rest. The last thing I want is to put Ford in an uncomfortable position. He is my boss and one of Garrin’s close friends after all.
“What about you? Are you the type of man who’s comfortable being vulnerable?” I ask as the car pulls up to the curb of the building where we’re having lunch today.
“Only if the cameras are rolling.” He grins at me and steps out of the car, and the few photographers who are there snap their pictures.
Good thing he’s a politician, I think as I hop out on the opposite side. “Thanks, George. We’ll be an hour,” I say before closing the door.
I trail behind while the reporters shout a series of questions at Ford—all ones I know for a fact he has carefully crafted responses for. I huddle down in my coat a little because though the sun is shining, the wind feels especially chilly today. Just as I reach the doors to the building, which Ford holds open for me, my phone buzzes inside my purse.
I never used to be one of those people who were addicted to their phone, but lately it hasn’t been out of reach. Although when it goes off, my breathing halts for a moment in fear.
When we’re in the warm building and have handed our coats over, I reach into my purse to remove my phone.
Thankfully, it’s not my mother or one of the nurses—it’s Garrin.
Unknown: It’s Garrin. I wanted to thank you for spending your evening with me last night.
I wait until we’re in the luncheon and Ford is seated to eat before sneaking off to the back of the room to respond.
Me: Thank you for asking. It was good to catch up.
The three dots appear right away, so I stay where I am and wait for his response, entering his contact information into my phone while I do so.
Garrin: I’m committed to attending a gala for the museum fundraiser on Saturday evening and I wondered if you might join me as my date?
My stomach flips when I read his words. Garrin is asking me on a date? There’s no ambiguity this time about what this is. Teenage me thrills because this is what I wanted for so long during my senior year, but post-sex-tape me still has that feeling of dread that lingers at the base of my skull.
I can’t help but wonder if I can trust him. Will I be able to have a normal sexual relationship with this person should it get that far?
I have to remind myself that part of why I’m here again is to finally get past those thoughts. Garrin is an attractive, eligible man. Yes, he has a cruel side, but besides the blip when I first arrived back in town, he’s been fine.
I type out my response with trembling fingers.
Me: I’d love to be your date.
Garrin: You’ve turned an otherwise shitty day around. Thank you. I’ll pick you up at 6 p.m.
Me: Perfect. Time to go dress shopping, I guess.
Garrin: Do what you did at Ford’s party and you’ll be the most stunning woman in the room. See you then.
A sigh slips from my lips and my hand touches my chest, where my heart pounds beneath.
No, no, no. I have to keep myself in check. I can’t go into this with any expectations. From all Garrin’s told me, it’s clear he’s not looking for someone in his life, so I’m not sure what this is to him, but it’s not that.
The best I can hope for is that we’ll get along well enough that I can spend some time with him while I’m home, and if I’m really lucky he can help me overcome my reservations about trusting men—both in and out of bed.
I slip my phone back into my bag and take my seat at the table beside Ford.
“Everything okay?” Hank leans over and asks.
“Time will tell,” I say with a smile and push all thoughts of Garrin away in order to do my job.
15
Chapter Fifteen
Isla
My mother’s been on cloud nine since I told her I’d be accompanying Garrin to the museum fundraiser. Mostly because it’s a sign that I’m living a life like any other twenty-seven-year-old and also because someone from our family would be there to represent and make apologies for my parents’ absence. They have yet to share my dad’s illness with anyone, but I understand their need for privacy.
The biggest reason my mom insisted on going dress shopping and splurging on an expensive dress I’ll probably never wear again, is because deep down, she hopes if I build a life here, I might stay once my dad is back on his feet. The way her hand always grabs mine tight whenever we’re together and she tears up when I talk about going back to Washington, it’s clear she wants me close.
After practically a fashion show of trying on almost every dress in the store, we settled on a V-neck off-the-shoulder navy gown. At first glance, the full floor-length skirt looked like any other dress, but there was a long slit that ran up to the middle of my left thigh if I stood just so. I paired the dress with glittery navy Louboutin heels and diamond drop earrings. My mother’s hair and makeup team were here earlier to work their magic, and I ended up with a sultry smoky eye and my long dark hair split down the middle and pulled into a stylish yet simple ponytail that reached to my midback. I’d opted not to wear anything around my neck to showcase the cut of the dress and my décolletage.
As I stare back at myself in the full-length bedroom mirror, I realize I haven’t felt this beautiful in a long time. My gut twists with worry that by the end of the evening I won’t feel the same as I do right now. I’m not sure putting this much effort into my date with Garrin will pay off.
This might be the same as when he hires his dates. No big deal for him, so when he shows up, he’ll look at me and think I’m crazy for putting so much work in and that I obviously think too much of our date. What if he sees me and thinks I’m some crazy woman? Worse, what if he changes his mind and cancels at the last minute? He’s clearly wishy-washy when it comes to me. His mood changes faster than a toddler’s.
All this negative self-talk threatens to overtake my good mood, so I use some of the mental tricks my therapist taught me to move past it. First, I inhale a deep breath and envision one of those things happening. What is really the worst outcome? I’ve been through worse public humiliation than being stood up by Garrin Stone. It would be his loss, not mine, and I’m sure he’s done so to numerous women before me. They’ve all gotten through it, and I’m strong enough to as well.
I open my eyes and glance at the time, seeing it’s already five-forty. I slide everything I’ll need for the night into my purse and leave the serenity of my bedroom. I wish I’d left more time to spend with dad before I leave, but everything took longer than I expected it to.
I knock gently on my parents’ bedroom door and push it open.
My mom sits on the edge of the bed, holding my dad’s hand. She looks over her shoulder and springs up like I caught her doing something she shouldn’t. My throat dries as I watch her turn away, her sniffle like a neon sign announcing that she was crying.
Dread weighs me down like cement bricks as I step further into the room. “What’s going on?”
“Nada. Come here and let me see you, tesoro.” My dad’s voice is much weaker than earlier this morning.
My mom faces me when I reach the bed. “Oh, darling, you look absolutely beautiful. I knew that was the right dress.”
I force a small smile and look at my father. “Are you feeling okay?”
He coughs for almost a full minute and I wait patiently while he catches his breath. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You worry too much.” He motions me forward, and I bend down and kiss his cheek. “This man taking you out tonight—he’s a good man to you?”
How do I answer that? Certainly not with the truth. Tell my father the man doesn’t know what he truly wants and I’m unsure why he asked me to go to the gala in the first place? He’d get himself out of bed or summon Garrin to come up to his room for a talking-to. My father h
as enough to worry about, so I remain silent while I think of something that isn’t a lie.
“Garrin Stone is one of the most eligible bachelors in Cherry Creek,” my mom says. “Maybe even the country.”
I have no doubt that’s the truth.
“I know he has money, Amelia. I asked if he’s a good man. Isla needs someone who will treat her like she deserves.”
Heat fills my cheeks. “It’s just a first date, Papi.”
“Even so, you make sure you’re spending your time with someone who deserves you.” He takes my hand, patting it with his other one.
“I will.” I glance to my mom, who’s staring down at him… with fondness, but also almost like she’s already missing him when he’s still here. Suddenly I worry they aren’t being completely truthful with me.
“What were you guys talking about when I first came in?” I ask.
The two look to one another, and my dad speaks first. “Your mother was just filling me in on what I’m missing on the social circuit.” He tries to laugh, but it morphs into a coughing fit.
My dad has never given a crap about the social circuit. If he did, he’d know all about Garrin Stone, son of Richard Stone. “Tell me what you were talking about,” I say in a more forceful tone.
What are they hiding from me?
“Isla, now isn’t the time,” my mom snaps.
I step back, surprised at her quick loss of temper, and glance from one parent to the other and back, tears welling in my eyes. “Tell me,” I whisper.
A rattly sigh slips out of my dad and he looks to my mom and nods. “My doctor came by the house today to discuss the results of my latest tests.”