I stared Grayson down. “I’m not letting any of you do this without me.”
“Avery.” Oren stepped out of the shadows and gave me a look that was part paternal, part military commander. “I strongly advise against any kind of confrontation with Skye Hawthorne.”
“I’ve found duct tape more effective than advice, myself,” Nash told Oren conversationally.
“It’s settled, then!” Xander said brightly. “Family reunion, Hawthorne style!”
“Uh, Xander?” Max appeared in the doorway, looking rumpled. She held up a phone. “You left this on your nightstand.”
Nightstand? I shot Max a look. I’d known that she and Xander were friends, but that was not a friendly kind of rumple. “Rebecca texted,” Max told Xander, conspicuously ignoring my look. “She’s on her way here.”
I was distracted enough by the idea of Max and Xander spending the night together that it took a moment for the rest to penetrate. Rebecca. Seeing Eve would destroy Emily’s sister.
“New plan,” Xander announced. “I’m skipping family reunion. The rest of you can report back.”
Eve frowned. “Who’s Rebecca?”
CHAPTER 15
Oren drove, and Nash sat shotgun. Two additional bodyguards piled into the back of the SUV, which left me in the middle row with Jameson on one side and Grayson on the other.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a flight back to Harvard right about now?” Jameson leaned forward, past me, to shoot his brother a look.
Grayson arched an eyebrow. “Your point?”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Jameson said. “Tell me that you’re not staying because of Eve.”
“There’s a threat,” Grayson snapped. “Someone moved against our family. Of course I’m staying.”
Jameson reached around me to grab Grayson by his suit. “She’s not Emily.”
Grayson didn’t flinch. He didn’t fight back. “I know that.”
“Gray.”
“I know that!” The second time, Grayson’s words came out louder, more desperate.
Jameson let go of him.
“Despite what you seem to believe,” Grayson bit out, “what you both seem to believe, I can take care of myself.” Grayson was the Hawthorne who had been raised to lead. The one who was never allowed to need anything or anyone. “And you’re right, Jamie—she’s not Emily. Eve is vulnerable in ways that Emily never was.”
The muscles in my chest tightened.
“That must have been a really illuminating game of Chutes and Ladders,” Jameson said.
Grayson looked out the window, away from both of us. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Neither could Eve.” His voice was controlled, his body still. “I found her wandering the halls.”
I thought about Grayson kissing a girl at Harvard. Grayson seeing a ghost.
“I asked her if the bruise on her temple was paining her,” Grayson continued, the muscles in his jaw visible and hard. “And she told me that some boys would want her to say yes. That some people want to think that girls like her are weak.” He went silent for a second or two. “But Eve isn’t weak. She hasn’t lied to us. She hasn’t asked for a damn thing except help finding the one person in this world who sees her for who she is.”
I thought of Eve talking about how hard she’d tried as a child to be perfect. And then I thought about Grayson. About the impossible standards he held himself to.
“Maybe I’m not the one who needs a reminder that this girl is her own person,” Grayson said, his voice taking on a knifelike edge. “But go ahead, Jamie, tell me I’m compromised, tell me that my judgment can’t be trusted, that I’m so easily manipulated and fragile.”
“Don’t,” Nash warned Jameson from the front seat.
“I’ll be happy to discuss all of your personal shortcomings,” Jameson told Grayson. “Alphabetically and in great detail. Let’s just get through this first.”
This took us to a neighborhood full of McMansions. Once, the sheer size of the lots and the houses that sat on them would have astounded me, but compared to Hawthorne House, these enormous homes seemed absolutely ordinary.
Oren parked on the street, and as he began rattling off our security protocol, all I could think was How did Skye Hawthorne end up here?
I hadn’t kept track of what happened to her after the DA had dropped the murder and attempted murder charges, but on some level, I had expected to find her in either dire straits or the utter lap of luxury—not suburbia.
We rang the doorbell, and Skye answered the door wearing a loose aquamarine dress and sunglasses. “Well, this is a surprise.” She looked at the boys over her sunglasses. “Then again, I drew a change card this morning. The Wheel of Fortune, followed by the Eight of Cups, inverted.” She sighed. “And my horoscope did say something about forgiveness.”
The muscles in Grayson’s jaw tensed. “We’re not here to forgive you.”
“Forgive me? Gray, darling, why would I need anyone’s forgiveness?” This, from the woman whose charges had been dropped only because they had arrested her for the wrong attempt on my life. “After all,” Skye continued, retreating into the house and graciously allowing us to follow, “I didn’t throw you out onto the streets, now did I?”
Grayson had forced Skye to leave Hawthorne House—for me. “I made sure you had a place to go,” he said stiffly.
“I didn’t let you rot away in prison,” Skye continued dramatically. “I didn’t force you to grovel to friends for decent legal counsel. Really! Don’t you boys talk to me about forgiveness. I’m not the one who abandoned you.”
Nash raised an eyebrow. “Debatable, don’t you think?”
“Nash.” Skye made a tsking sound. “Aren’t you a bit old to be holding on to childish grudges? You of all people should understand: I wasn’t made to be stationary. A woman like me can absolutely die of inertness. Is it really so hard to understand that your mother is also a person?”
She could shred them without even trying. Even Nash, who’d had years to get over Skye’s lack of motherly impulses, wasn’t immune.
“You’re wearing a ring.” Jameson cut in with a shrewd observation.
Skye offered him a coy smile. “This little thing?” she said, brandishing what had to be a three-carat diamond on her left ring finger. “I would have invited you boys to the wedding, but it was a small courthouse affair. You know how I detest spectacle, and given how Archie and I met, a courthouse wedding seemed appropriate.”
Skye Hawthorne lived for spectacle.
“‘A courthouse wedding seemed appropriate’，” Grayson repeated, digesting her meaning and narrowing his eyes. “You married your defense attorney?”
Skye gave an elegant little shrug. “Archie’s children and grandchildren are always after him to retire, but my darling husband will be practicing criminal defense until he dies of old age.” In other words: Yes, she’d married her lawyer, and yes, he was significantly older than she was—and quite possibly not long for this world. “Now, if you’re not here to beg for my forgiveness…” Skye eyed each of her three sons in turn. “Then why are you here?”