“This family breaks things.” Grayson’s tone never wavered. “My grandfather knew that, and he brought you here anyway. He put you on the board.”
Grayson wanted me safe, and I wasn’t. Having inherited the Hawthorne fortune, I might never be safe again.
“I’m not the glass ballerina,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to shatter.”
“I know you won’t.” Grayson’s voice was almost hoarse “So I’m not going to avoid you anymore, Avery. I’m not going to keep telling you to stop doing the things that I know you can’t and won’t stop doing. I know what Toby is to you—what he means to you.” Grayson’s breath was heavy. “I know, better than anyone, why you can’t stop.”
Grayson had met his father. He’d looked him in the eyes and discovered what he meant to the man. And, yeah, the answer to that question was nothing—but he knew why I couldn’t just leave the mystery of Toby alone.
“So you’re in this?” I asked Grayson, my heart skipping a beat.
“Yes.” He said the word like a vow. It hung in the air between us, and then he swallowed. “As your friend.”
Friend. The word had edges. This was Grayson pulling back, keeping me at arm’s length. Pretending that he got to make the rules.
It would have stung if I’d let it, but I didn’t. “Friends,” I repeated, fixing my gaze on the end of the lift, which was quickly approaching.
“Slide forward in your seat,” Grayson told me. All business. “Tilt the tips of your skis up. Lean forward, and go.”
The chair gave me a little push, and I zoomed forward, fighting to keep my balance. I didn’t need Grayson Hawthorne to do this. Through sheer force of will, I kept my skis underneath me and managed to stop.
See? I don’t need you to hold me up. I turned back toward my friend Grayson, a smile spreading across my face, fully prepared to gloat—and that was when I saw the paparazzi.
CHAPTER 43
Oren and the arctic specialist got me back to True North in impressive time. Eli and another guard were waiting outside when we got there.
“Do a sweep of the perimeter,” Oren told his men. “If anyone needs a reminder that this is private property, feel free to provide it.”
“I guess that’s it for skiing,” I said. In theory, that was a good thing. I now had an excuse to stay at True North, to do what I’d come to do. Less time on the mountain with Grayson.
Pressing that thought down, I took my skis off. Grayson did the same, and we headed inside, but before we made it to the back door, a clump of snow fell down from the roof, right at our feet.
I looked up just in time to see Jameson dropping. He landed beside me on skis, no poles in sight.
“Nice entrance,” Grayson told him dryly.
“I try.” Jameson smiled, and then he brandished an object in his hands. It took me a second to realize that it was a picture frame.
Why is he holding a picture frame? This was Jameson Hawthorne. We’d come here for a reason. I knew why. My heart jackrabbited. “Is that…，” I started to say.
Jameson shrugged. “What can I say? I really am just that good.” He lazily placed the frame in my hand, then turned to grab a pair of ski poles leaning against the side of the house. “And I challenge you,” he told Grayson, “to a Drop.”
The picture in the frame was one I’d seen on the stairs, of all three of Tobias Hawthorne’s children. Jameson hadn’t provided any information before taking off, but as I walked down the interior stairs toward the basement, I turned the frame over in my hands and saw the image carved into the back.
The face of a compass.
I was so engrossed in what I was looking at that I almost ran into Rebecca. And Thea. Thea and Rebecca, I realized, taking a step back. The former had the latter pressed up against the wall of the stairwell. Rebecca’s hands were on the sides of Thea’s face. Thea’s hair looked like it had been torn from its ponytail.
They were kissing.
The last words I’d heard them exchange rang in my ears. Some things are unforgivable. People aren’t perfect.
Thea noticed me but didn’t pull back from the kiss until Rebecca’s green eyes went almost comically wide, and even then Thea took her sweet time stepping back.
“Avery.” Rebecca sounded mortified. “This isn’t—”
“Any of your business,” Thea finished, her lips lifting up on the ends.
I sidestepped both of them. “Agreed.” This star-crossed—and probably ill-advised—make-out session was not my concern.