Chapter 58
W alking down the streets of New York City, as the sun settled down beneath the horizon and my first day alone, without nary a connection to a loved one, I realized something very profound.
I knew what it felt like to freeze to death.
I didn’t actually literally know what that felt like—though Manhattan was a bit chilly, there were still a couple of months left before the truly decimating, bitterly chilly temperatures settled in.
However, I knew from reading survivor stories how the body often would go into an intense phase of euphoria upon realizing it won’t survive before finally succumbing to the frostbite and the cold temperatures overall.
And my feeling this morning? The one where, sitting on the curb of my former apartment, looking up and feeling free from any obligations, free from any stress, free from anything of that sort?
Turns out that that was just a euphoric phase, one designed to mask some ugly realities I faced.
I’d lost to Edwin Hunt. I’d lost Morgan Hunt, Claire McLendon, and God knows who else; I only had not lost Layla because she, too, had walked away from a certain level of security, although I certainly had my love for her lost if I ever wanted it back; and I had never even had Sarah Hill, the middle school crush who seemed too good to be true, then proved to be exactly that.
Fucking Edwin. He’d set so much of this in motion. And why? Because I wasn’t the chosen son? Because I wasn’t his favorite son? Because, if he had his way, I wouldn’t be his son in the first place?
Fuck Edwin.
But as much as I wanted to say it was all his fault, I certainly had plenty of other people to blame.
Like Morgan. The brother who sat by my side, defended me like family—the only person besides Mrs. Hunt, herself unloved by Edwin—had suddenly had the most cruel change of heart and abandoned our company, Morgan my decision to cuss out John Burnson after getting played; my decision to sleep with coworkers because I let my hormones get the best of me…
Perhaps Burnson getting toyed with by Edwin Hunt was unavoidable, but even if so, at worst, I would have suffered the indignation of losing a round of negotiations to my adoptive father.
That would have made for some awkward holiday reunions, but I could have brushed it off and gotten a real job somewhere else or even used it as a springboard for a paying job within Burnson Investments.
Instead, I had let my temper get the best of me. I had allowed my feelings, nay, the degree of my emotions to get control of me. My anger, my hormones, my vengeance—all of it.
Suffice to say, I had a lot of introspection to do. I had a lot of solitude that I needed to figure just how the adopted son of the Hunts had caused everyone he ever loved or even pretended to love to now outwardly hate him.
But first, I needed a goddamn roof over my head.
I walked up to Layla’s apartment, noticing the posh exterior, the refined lobby, and the clean street around it, a reminder that even if she had quit her uncle’s company in the weeks before, she still reaped a little benefit from having worked from there—much as I had for some two decades.
There was something strange to be said for fighting Edwin and for Layla to be fighting her uncle, Craig Taylor, when we both inherited much of our good fortune from them.
But, then again, we hadn’t necessarily inherited their underhanded business tactics, their creepy behavior, or their gluttonous cravings for money. We just happened to have it.
Layla, standing there in gym clothes and looking like she had just broken a sweat, immediately went up to me and gave me a tight hug.
She smelled as if she had just put perfume on to mask the sweat, but what she probably didn’t realize was I still would have found her attractive even if she didn’t have it on.
Of course, that didn’t mean I was going to act on it right now. Layla was all that I had left, and the idea that I would complicate matters by going back to a sexual relationship seemed downright suicidal to my idea of getting my shit back together.
Ignoring, of course, that I had made out with her a few times.
“I’m glad you’re OK,” she said.
“I mean, not like I just escaped gunfire, but thanks,” I said as I followed her back to the elevator to her apartment. “It’s been something of a long day.”
“No kidding, Chance. What the hell happened, anyways?”
What the hell happened, anyways?
What Layla probably didn’t know, or didn’t suspect as much as she should have, was how much I’d asked myself the same question the last few hours so much that it felt like it was tattooed on the inside of my skull.
“I guess the simplest way to put it is that Morgan betrayed Morgan & Chance Holdings, Edwin decided to increase his war on me, and now here I am, with a partnership set to dissolve, an apartment that I’ve been kicked out of, and a family that I’ve lost. Just so you know, I’m not going by Chance Hunt anymore.
I’m going by my birth name. Chance Givens. ”
“Givens,” Layla said, as if taste testing the name. “I like it.”
“Yeah,” I said, going silent as the elevator doors opened to her floor.
She led me to her apartment, where I noticed that while she had not bothered to make the living room that much—which didn’t bother me—she had made her bedroom pristine.
The message, whether subtle or overt in her mind, was pretty damn loud at this point.
Don’t do it. Don’t take it. You need stability in your life, Chance.
“And what’s the longer version?” she said as she went into her bedroom. I left my suitcases at the front and hovered at the entrance of her door.
“Oh, I’m still figuring that out,” I said with a weary chuckle. “But I can tell you what I’ve learned from this.”
This was going to take some time. I took a deep breath and went from putting both hands on the door frame to leaning on it with my back against it.
“I’ve learned that for as much talk as I made about being my own man, leaving Burnson Investments behind and Edwin’s support behind…
being free is fucking hard. It was a nice euphoria when I stepped outside, but now it’s more like ‘oh, shit, I have all these things to handle that I can’t keep up with.
I’ve learned that all the pursuit of wealth at the cost of your relationships doesn’t mean shit.
I have no family right now. Morgan thinks he made the right choice, but I know him too well.
He’s hurting. And as for Edwin… well, let’s just say as much as he may console himself by his bank account, he isn’t a happy person. ”
“Makes sense, Chance. But now that you know all that?”
It was such a simple question, and yet I’d never really verbalized all of my thoughts like I had just now, making it all but impossible to have actually contemplated an answer to them. It was… damn. Trickier than I thought.
“I just want peace of mind and stability,” I said. “I just want the truth about everything and to have my own life on solid footing. Whatever the fuck happens after that, happens.”
“OK… and then what?”
I knew where she was going with this. I knew she wanted me to say that it would be time to start looking for a relationship and potentially more. I knew she wanted me to say it with the implication that I would give something back to her.
But the truth was, I didn’t know. The answer was no right now, but in the future?
“Well, my name’s not Chance Givens for nothing.”
I smirked, waiting until she returned my smile for me to continue.
“I’ll just have to take advantage of whatever chances I am given.”