Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Grady
“You’ll start with the Bennett’s next week, learning the ropes.”
My father stands at the head of the mahogany table, one hand resting on the folder I’ve been reading for the last twenty minutes. The study surrounding us is all dark wood and brass, leather-bound books that no one has read in years, degrees framed on the wall in matching gold-leaf frames.
Outside the perfectly manicured yard is arranged with the same deliberate care as the numbers on the page in front of me.
I turn another page of the Bennett Media acquisition file, but my attention slides off the numbers for the third time in as many minutes.
The org chart is what does it.
It’s on page seventeen, printed and laminated, the kind of thing you hand out at investor presentations so everyone can see where they fit.
Near the top, in a box drawn with thicker lines than the rest, my name sits in twelve-point Times New Roman.
Director of Digital Integration. Reporting to the CFO, with dotted lines to editorial.
My head lifts. “I told you, I still have business in Pinecrest—”
A wave of his hand sweeps aside my concerns. “We can send movers to bring your possessions here. Your time is money, and it shouldn’t be wasted on trivial things like packing.”
“That’s not what I mean—”
“You’d be running point on the transition,” he interrupts, tapping the box. “Bennett’s team knows the content side. We know the business model. You bridge the gap.”
As I stare at my name, the laminate catches the overhead light, throwing a faint glare across the letters.
“You’ll start next week,” he says again, with more firmness now, refusing to listen to me.
It’s been like this since my return. Every time I bring up any form of hesitation, he dismisses me or overrides my concerns.
In his mind, this is the type of job he raised me to step into. I could do it with my eyes closed, and the part that spent seven years negotiating contracts and managing Aurora Storm’s career wants to.
But he’s never once asked what I want, and it bothers me.
The door opens without a knock, and Caroline steps in. She’s dressed for a Sunday meeting in tailored slacks and a cream blouse, her dark hair pulled back in that same professional knot, a tablet tucked under one arm.
She takes the chair across from mine with casual grace. “Apologies for being late. Dad wanted to go over the contract one more time.”
She sets her tablet on the table and opens a form on the screen.
“The partnership structure is straightforward,” she says, turning the page before I can even read it. “Our families have compatible goals and a shared vision for the combined entity.”
The combined entity that includes us getting married, even though we’ve only had a handful of conversations. We barely know, let alone love, each other.
She speaks about our future and the growth of the business with the same cool detachment.
It’s nothing like the way Emily spoke of a future.
It hadn’t been certain. She straight out admitted that it didn’t yet make sense on paper, but she had stood in that empty cabin that she built with her own two hands and told me she wanted me, not as an asset or a bridge between business units, but as a person she was willing to fight for.
She offered me a home with a roof and warm meals and the space to decide what brought me happiness, promising to figure the rest out if only I would choose her.
And I still left.
Why did I do that? What did I hope to find in coming back here?
I set my pen down on the folder, the click of plastic cutting Caroline off mid-spiel. “I need a moment.”
My father’s jaw hardens, but Caroline simply nods.
“Take your time,” she says. “The numbers aren’t going anywhere.”
I push back from the table and reach for my cane. It taps on the hardwood as I cross to the door and step into the hallway.
The house is quiet. Upstairs, my mother is probably on the phone with one of her charity boards, scheduling the spring gala. The staff moves through the lower level, never seen unless it can’t be avoided.
I head for the side door that leads to the stone steps and the frozen lawn beyond. The moment I push it open, the raw March cold sweeps over me.
I pause, still under the overhang, and fish my phone from my pocket.
The lawn stretches in front of me, winter-gray and stiff with frost. Beyond the hedgerows, the property slopes toward the road, every tree placed where some landscape architect decided it belonged sixty years ago. Nothing grows wild here.
I find Emily’s name in my contacts and hit call before I can talk myself out of it.
My breath fogs in the air as I count the rings, half-expecting to be sent to voicemail. It’s what, five-thirty in Pinecrest? Early, even for her.
She picks up on the third ring.
“Grady,” she rasps, still rough with sleep. A murmur sounds in the background, and she shushes whoever it is before she comes back to me. “You’re calling early. Everything okay?”
“I’m standing outside my parents’ house freezing my ass off. I needed to talk to someone who isn’t discussing contracts.” The words come out more honest than I meant them to, and I wince. “Sorry. That’s not—how are you?”
A beat of silence follows, where I can feel her wanting to ask more questions before she sighs. “We had the entire Wright Pack over yesterday.” Her rich chuckle fills my ear. “The cottage is still a mess.”
I blink in surprise. “You went to bed without picking things up?”
She rumbles in agreement. “Jared and Leif are going to clean everything today.”
Masculine protests rise, and I realize she’s with the Alpha and Omega right now. I wait for the embarrassment or jealousy, but all I feel is longing that I’m not there, too.
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh, and the sound surprises me. “And what will you be doing?”
“Lying on the couch with Mixie.”
“I don’t believe you. Give the phone to Jared.”
There’s a shuffle, and then the young Alpha comes on the line. “When are you coming back? Em is being unreasonable.”
“You better see that she doesn’t lift a finger while you guys clean,” I tell him. “Give her the basket of crochet projects she’s been grumbling about finishing, and don’t let her put one foot on the floor until you guys are done.”
“Bossy, Beta,” he grumbles. “What do you think I should make her for breakfast?”
“Biscuits and gravy,” I say without hesitation.
He chuckles. “Is that your craving coming through?”
“Might be.” I sigh. “I’m so sick of the food here.”
“If you get on a plane now, you can be home in time for homemade pizza,” he cajoles. “Leif can pick you up from the airport and bring you right here.”
“I have to be back on the island tonight,” Leif reminds him in the background. “I need to bring Quinn to school.”
“Blake can bring her down to the boat, and you can meet her at the docks on this side,” Jared counters. “Just like old times.”
His murmur of agreement sounds before there’s a shuffle, and Emily reclaims the phone. “Don’t let him pressure you. If you’re not ready—”
“I’m ready.” My nose stings, and I reach up to pinch the bridge. “I’m so ready.”
“Grady…” Her voice gentles. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on over there, but whatever it is, it’s okay to want something else.”
The stone railing bites through my coat. I shift to my good leg and flatten my palm on the freezing stone.
“I know.” I close my eyes. The cold has numbed my fingertips where they grip the phone. “If I can get a flight, I’ll be on it today.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Her breath catches. “Send us the flight plan, and someone will be there to pick you up.”
“Will do. See you guys soon.”
When we hang up, I open the app for the airline and spend way too much money on the next available flight before I can second-guess my choice. My hands shake as I finalize the transaction, relief at finally making the decision flooding my system.
I’m no longer confused.
But I’m still afraid.
The fear sits in my throat, trying to choke me.
When I leave, I’ll be walking away from a solid, affluent future.
I’ll be disappointing the people who have given me everything, even if it came with strings attached.
I’ll have to look my father in the eye and tell him the future he built isn’t the one I want.
But fear can be worked through. Confusion is what paralyzes you.
I push off the railing, my knee protesting the movement, and turn back toward the side door.
Before I return to the office, I go upstairs and pack. I don’t have much time, and I won’t be slowed down now that I’ve made my decision. I order a cab, then head back downstairs.
I leave my bag in the foyer before returning to the study.
“Finally.” My dad gestures to my abandoned chair. “Now, if you’ve composed yourself—”
I stay on my feet, just inside the doorway. “I’m not going through with the arrangement with the Bennetts.”
My father’s jaw tightens, the muscle along his cheekbone flexing. “If this is about getting cold feet—”
“It’s not.” I cast Caroline an apologetic look before turning back to my dad.
“This just isn’t the life I want. It never has been.
I’ve told you as much so many times over the years, but you never listened.
This isn’t a phase I’m going to grow out of.
This isn’t me messing around before I settle down.
I’m a writer and a journalist. It’s my real passion—”
“It’s a hobby,” he snaps, looking at Caroline as if inviting her to share in the absurdity of it. “One you can still indulge in while working a real job.”
I expected the dismissive tone, but it still stings. “It’s not a hobby. It never has been.”
His face turns red. “If you could support yourself with it, you wouldn’t have spent so many years building someone else’s career. You would’ve already been doing it yourself.”
That, too, stings, but I don’t let it break me. “I’m sorry that you feel that way, but I won’t be swayed. I told you the day I arrived that I wasn’t done in Pinecrest. And I don’t plan to be done. That’s where I belong, not here.”
His chair scrapes back, and he rises to his full height. “Do you know what I told people when you left? Do you have any idea the story I had to construct to explain why my son was living in the woods with a pack of strangers, playing at a career after being fired?”
“I didn’t ask you to explain anything—”
“You’re walking away from everything I’ve built for you,” he seethes.
“You built the business for yourself, and you should be proud.” I straighten my shoulders. “But I don’t want your hand-me-downs. I want to build something of my own.”
“If you do this, you will have nothing from this family. Not money, not a name, not a door opened anywhere in this city. You will be a stranger to us.” He moves around the table toward me, stopping just short.
“Your mother goes with my decision. She won’t call you. She won’t write. I’ll make sure of it.”
Caroline has gone rigid in her chair. “Mr. Finch...”
I lift a hand to let her know I’m fine. I don’t need her to jump to my defense.
“I’ve spent years living without your money, so losing it won’t affect me. I do hope you’ll change your mind about cutting me out of your life, but that’s up to you to decide.” I give him a sad smile. “Now, I have a flight to catch.”
I turn and head for the door.
“Your mother will be disappointed,” he says.
“I know. Please tell her I love her.”
I walk out, returning to the foyer where I pause to find my coat in the closet.
Heels click on the hardwood floor, and Caroline joins me. “Are you sure?”
I turn to her, because she deserves that much. “The only thing I’m sure of is that staying would mean living half a life. And I want more than that.”
She holds my gaze, and I can see her working through it—the merger, the timelines, the hole my departure leaves in a plan that’s been months in the making.
“You deserve more than that, too, Caroline.” I shrug into my jacket and grab the handle of my suitcase.
“You don’t have to marry for love, but don’t let yourself be engineered into a marriage so you can run your family’s company from the shadows.
Don’t do the work while someone else gets the credit. ”
She searches my face before she steps aside. “Good luck, Grady.”
“You, too.”
The cab is idling in the driveway, exhaust puffing white into the cold air. The driver gets out, takes my bag without being asked, and holds the door.
I slide into the back seat, my knee protesting the bend, and he shuts the door behind me.