24. Grant
24
GRANT
It was my least favorite part of the week—my video call with my father. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being called a fuck-up as much as the next guy. But did it have to happen every single week?
“Yes, I understand,” I said automatically. I didn’t even need to listen much—all I had to do was to claim to agree. “Okay, I will.” That last one was an admonishment, as always, to support Bennett. Follow his lead. Never, ever cross him. It was practically our family motto.
“Yeah, Dad, I’ve got it.”
The worst part today was that I’d left my phone in the sitting room, so I couldn’t even discreetly scroll through it, keeping it just out of sight of the camera. I surreptitiously looked around my bedroom, but there was nothing within reach that would distract me from this call.
“How’s mom?” I asked. That usually kept him from lecturing for a minute or two. It wasn’t long enough, though.
I spent the last few minutes nodding. And smiling. And generally being a fucking obedient son who followed the family code. Which was, generally, to make sure family got everything and others got nothing.
I stayed at my desk after the call ended. Usually, I was mad enough that I had to go down to the basement and beat the fuck out of the punching bag or lift until my muscles trembled. But I didn’t do either of those things.
Instead, I looked idly out of the window as I thought about Hailey. Now that the summer was drawing to a close, who knew where she’d live after she moved out. What would she think of when she remembered her summer here? And why the fuck had she put on that sexy little French maid costume for my buddies and not for me?
It rankled, I could admit it. Theo and Ian were great guys, but we were a set. She couldn’t mess around with two of us and ignore the third—especially if I was the one being left out in the cold.
Despite my party boy persona, I wasn’t an idiot. Deep down, I knew that this was about being hurt as much as it was jealousy. I’d really thought that Hailey and I had made a connection. That we’d gotten to know each other through our conversations. But evidently, she didn’t feel that way at all.
My mood didn’t improve when I exited the bedroom and saw Bennett sitting at my table. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said. “How’d it going?”
“Same as usual.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Bennett laughed. “By the way, who the fuck is Wombat?”
“What?”
“That chick you’re sexting.”
I saw my phone on the table next to him, and it felt like I’d just been gut punched. “What’d you do?” I snatched my phone up and flicked it open.
“Nothing. But you’re never going to get anywhere with that one. She’s a total prude. Wouldn’t even send me some nudes.”
I wanted to tell him to get the fuck out, but years of family conditioning kicked in. So instead, I stormed out, without another word to him.
What the fuck had he done? I was almost afraid to look. If Hailey hadn’t trusted me before, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to after this. She’d move out, and I’d never see her again, and this would be her lasting impression of me. Of Night Owl.
I took a deep breath, but I still couldn’t look. Jesus, when had I become such a fucking coward?
But maybe she’d let me explain. Maybe. We’d built a rapport with all those nights of texting back and forth. It had felt so intimate, talking to her in the dark when everyone else was asleep—as if she was lying in bed next to me.
So maybe she’d let me explain. That thought made me finally see how bad the damage was, and fuck. It was bad. The more I read, the angrier I got at Bennett for treating her that way.
Then I reached her last message, and my heart sank.
Don’t ever contact me again.
If only she’d listen to me one last time. My fingers shook as I typed on the tiny keys. Please just let me explain. Then I pressed send—only it didn’t.
Hailey had blocked me.