19. Why Is Axel Trying To Yeet Himself Off The Thread?
19
Why Is Axel Trying To Yeet Himself Off The Thread?
ALICE
New Hart Family Takes First Vacation
Summer in the Hamptons: Greyson Hart and Wife Spotted At 4th of July Cookout
From Navy Seal to Neighborhood Hero: What You Never Knew About the Philanthropic Greyson Hart
New Cutting-Edge Animal Foster Program at Emerald Bay Humane Society
Paxton Rhodes’ Aggressive Routine Three Weeks Before Season Kickoff
Billionaire on the Bering Sea: Greyson Hart Visits Wife’s Hometown
Giggling at the last headline we’d compiled into our media folder, I snapped a screenshot, cropped it in on Greyson’s attempt at a smile, and fired it off to the family text thread. Never in my life had I seen a man look so uncomfortable holding a fish, but Greyson’s expression was more of a bearing of teeth. The bright yellow rain slicker and waders looked so unspeakably out of place on his lean frame—boat, and mountainous island setting the scene or not. Seeing Greyson out of his element was more satisfying than it probably should have been, but I couldn’t help myself.
He was beaming down at me in the article where we presented the first foster dogs to their new families, who would now receive scholarships to aid in veterinary care and individualized training. The program was called Chip’s Clips, since they all got groomed and snipped, and it was the first initiative I got to push through since the wedding.
Naturally, that was the picture they all added hearts to before the texts started bouncing in. Still waiting for Miranda’s SUV to pull up before I went into the spa, I decided to indulge in a moment of family shenanigans.
The Sibs:
Noel
Do you just…drop an egg any time that man is in the room? Gotta pull out your wet floor sign?
Max
I would fold like a damn lawn chair if a man looked at me the way Grey looks at Alice.
Alice
I do. Regularly.
Hadlee
Suit Daddy shouldn’t be allowed to hold puppies. That is now illegal.
Elora
Happily married and still inclined to agree.
Hadlee
Happily single, but if I find one of those, I’d forget I owned shoes and don an apron for the rest of my life.
Axel
1st: Ew. JFC. TMFI.
2nd: Yeah, right, Hads. You can’t stay in one place for more than three weeks. Like you’d last.
Maverick
He has a point.
Jameson
Know a lot about wet floor signs, baby?
Noel
*Winking emoji* You tell me, Captain.
Maverick
Ew, guys, gross, stop.
Paxton
Stop defiling the family text thread. All of you.
Jameson
No can do, buddy. No can do.
Alice
James, you in the harbor?
Jameson
On our way now. Close enough we’ve got a cell signal without the sat phone.
From May to October, our house had always been quiet while Dad tackled the most lucrative season of the year. By the time I was big enough to have any awareness, the boys were fishing with him all summer. Now, I just wondered if giving Mom a peaceful house had been just as much of a goal as training them into the family business.
With Rhyett off building his own entrepreneurial dreams, Jameson had been the one to step up and preserve our family legacy. Had I not landed in a literal piece of heaven, I would’ve felt bad that he and Noel pretty much only had Axel for company these days. Our parents made a trip home for the bulk of summer, but since Paxton’s first game was the first week of September this year, they were just going to make a road trip of being premature snowbirds and migrate south a month sooner than usual.
On the rare occasion Jameson was on the text thread this time of year, it meant he was either in the harbor or very near it. Which meant it was the perfect time to grill them both. They’d gotten engaged more than eight months ago, so it was time to start prodding.
Alice
Excellent. Did you two dumbasses set a date?
Noel
Yes, actually! March 22nd!
Alice
Still thinking Florida?
Jameson
Yep.
Noel
Perfect window before Salmon season, and Pax will have a few weeks to recover. Brex and El are due around Christmas, so it’ll work for them too. Plus, El and Brod should be on spring break.
Elora
Very well thought out. I approve.
Noel
Thought you might *winking emoji*
Brexley
I agree. Perfect pick, guys.
Finn
Finally. Thanks for the heads up, guys. Some of us have to make arrangements.
Elora
Road trip?
Finn
With a three-month-old? I love you, sis, but hell no.
Broderick
Smart man.
I grinned like an imbecile when Greyson’s name popped up, a flush warming my cheeks as I glanced up at Jax, who sat in the driver’s seat.
Greyson
Just had to share that one, did you, babe?
Alice
What?! You look cute.
Greyson
I look like I shit my pants.
Maverick
LMFAO
I mean…
He’s not wrong.
Axel
#accurate
Greyson
You’re going to pay for that later, Mrs. Hart.
Alice
Promise? *smirking emoji*
Axel
*gagging gif*
FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
*Axel Rhodes has left the conversation*
Paxton
HEATHENS.
*Rhyett Rhodes has added Axel Rhodes to the conversation*
Rhyett
Oh, deal, Ax. Not like we didn’t all see the sock on your door in high school.
Axel
Right. Discreet.
Finn
About as discreet as Yogi Bear in Manhattan.
*Axel Rhodes has left the conversation*
*Greyson Hart has added Axel Rhodes to the conversation*
Leighton
Sorry, guys, just got off work. Can anybody recap?
Kaia
Hey! Funny. Me too! Thousands of miles apart, and nothing stops twin telepathy.
Why is Axel trying to yeet himself off the thread?
Laughing, I set my phone in my bag and muddled through the contents on the bottom, pulling out my new lipstick and reapplying it in my compact mirror. Unexpected perk of being Mrs. Hart: in addition to having more than I could ever need, brands would do just about anything to send free products for me to try in hopes of a photo landing on Instagram.
How ironic was it that the people who didn’t need freebies were the people who received them?
A gentle knock had me turning from my mauve lip stain and grinning when I spotted Miranda, who lingered in the car window. I knocked on the divider so they knew I was getting out and lunged for the door. We’d been getting together every two weeks like clockwork to get our nails done together and exchange books with our mini club—comprised entirely of us and our cosmetologists.
“Hiiiiiiiiii!!!” We squealed together, wrapping each other up before my hands flew adoringly to her round belly.
“How’s baby bump?”
“They’re good. Been using mommy’s bladder as a punching bag, so that’s not optimal, but what are you gonna do?”
“Miss ma’am,” I exclaimed, immediately animating my voice as I bent down to talk at her belly like a lunatic. “You have to be nice to your mama, you hear me?”
“Still convinced it’s a girl?”
“Just got a feeling,” I supplied for the dozenth time as I straightened. “You look beautiful. Got that mama glow going for you.”
“That’s just sweat, darling.”
“It has been insanely warm.”
“How your brother plays in this, I’ll never understand,” she said as she hooked her arm through mine, and we headed toward the spa. Only Jax’s sigh alerted me to the fact that he was out of the car, and I grinned over my shoulder. Much to my surprise, having a constant tail was probably my least favorite part of this whole arrangement. His cute, grumpy presence was like a storm cloud in the corner of every building I inhabited, no matter how briefly. Nail days were Jax’s least favorite and the moment I most looked forward to.
So. Take that, Reynolds. Maybe he’d tell Greyson things were calm enough for him to leave, finally.
The picture-perfect front desk man with pearly teeth and a freakishly wrinkle-free tan greeted us. Seriously, how does one avoid aging while also worshipping the sun?
Cucumber waters in hand, we followed him back to our usual spots with our nail techs, Nikki and Katie. Like we’d synchronized it, all four of us whipped novels out of our bags, tabbed within an inch of their lives, and passed them around to whoever hadn’t had a turn with them yet.
Greetings were exchanged, and swatches were selected. We all fell into the easy chatter of familiar company.
“You’re both attending that auction tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” Miranda chirped. The woman was easy to love, even without the adorable basketball baby in her belly. Her dirty-blonde hair was pulled back into an elegant twisty bun, and the sundress she’d picked gave her this whimsical, fairy-core vibe without stepping out of approved fashion trends.
She was the breath of fresh air I hadn’t realized I desperately needed until we’d met up for brunch back in June and been attached at the hip ever since.
Community, aside from my family, has always been grueling for me. A love of soul-crushing conversation and hatred for small talk made finding people who wanted to connect a bit of a challenge in the age of surface-level Facebook ‘friends.’ Miranda was the first person who made it feel easy.
“Some art thing?” Nikki asked as she carefully filed down my old set of dip nails.
“I thought the art museum gala was in the spring,” Katie interjected.
“It was. It was so insufferably stuffy,” Miranda explained with an eye roll that had me smirking. Maybe that’s what I loved about her. She had no more love for the soirees and formalities than I did.
“Glad we missed it.”
“Heck, that was right before you and Grey finally launched your relationship to the media,” Miranda pointed out.
“It was,” I said with a laugh, hoping it was natural. Grey and I had come a long way in the last few months. If you’d told me I would end up catching feelings for my asshole boss, I would’ve asked what you were on and why you weren’t sharing. But a friendship had bloomed around a stream of strange circumstances and an endless supply of vagina-destroying orgasms. Crazy to think just a few months ago, I was sprinting towards a Hart-free life.
And now? Now, I wasn’t sure what we were or weren’t, but I couldn’t fathom a life where Greyson didn’t wake me up in the morning with Italian espresso, and that was enough to make a girl nauseous.
Per my strategy, the allegations were finally dying out, successfully overwhelmed by our strategically placed interviews, articles, and donations. Swallowing my nerves, I added, “Long overdue.”
“I still don’t know how you managed that.”
“Witchcraft,” I responded, dead serious. Her slow smile had me breaking character like Deadpool breaks the fourthwall.
“If you love me, you’ll teach me how to do that. Those assholes keep speculating I’m having twins, which makes me feel like Shamu.”
“No orca in sight, just a beautiful, very healthy, adequately baby-fied mama-to-be,” I assured.
“Regardless,” she grumbled, blue eyes mesmerized by the file working over her nails. “I could use some of that. Hell, Royce didn’t even know until he got the invite to the engagement party.”
“Greyson is an unwaveringly private person.”
“Oh, I know. Speaking of, I heard he’s been working super late. Big project?”
“Oh,” I sighed. Of course. He always had a big project. This month’s had been a rather sizable merger, and then he played Batman at night, helping Jax strategize an op. While I understood the low-level semantics, I was nowhere near grasping the big picture. Of course, I couldn’t say any of that and just led with, “Always.”
“I know how that feels. Royce is always at the office. Even when he’s home, he’s glued to his phone unless we’re on a date night or at one of the kids’ activities. He does his best, but sometimes even those get interrupted.”
“Grey…he likes to clock off at some point, you know? Turns his phone off so he can decompress at the end of the night. Or when we’re with Mattie and Beau.”
“The secret to having staff for everything.”
“And two dogs with very limited bladder capacity,” I teased, earning a laugh.
“How are those troublemakers?”
“Cap is done with Chip’s shit, and Chip worships the ground he walks on.”
“That’s about right,” she laughed. “Gosh, I’m glad all that media drama has blown over.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be a while yet before Grey lets Jax go.”
“Oh, I just meant those bullshit allegations. You know how it is. With all those rumors flying, were you ever freaked out? I feel like I would’ve been so anxious.”
Wouldn’t you like to know? Shrugging, I said, “Not really. Bottom feeders doing what they do.”
“They really are the worst.”
“Parasites,” I lamented.
“Agreed. Gosh, when they’ve gone after Royce, I’ve been in knots. All it takes is one nasty rumor, and people lose their shit, you know? I’m always worried some crazy person is going to believe those rags and hurt him or me and the kids. I hate it here.”
“Awe, well, I get that. But don’t let it all get too far in your head.” I gave her a sympathetic smile before adding, “If there’d been any validity, that would’ve been different, but I know my husband.”
She smiled, wiggling in her seat and sending her sunny chiffon dress swaying around her legs. “You’re still so cute when you say that. That beautiful newlywed bliss.”
“It really is,” I agreed.
“Alright,” Nikki interrupted. “We’re doing something fun this week, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m feeling lavender. It’ll complement my dress tonight.”
“Wanna try something new?”
“What kind of new?” Miranda pressed, leaning over our way nosily.
“We have a glow-in-the-dark base that can go under about any color. Sounds crazy, but I’m obsessed, and guys love it.”
Grinning over at the pretty little blonde across the table, I thought that one over. “The guys like it?” I questioned. That could be just secretly rebellious enough without pissing off my stylists.
“Don’t think too hard, it’s pretty obvious,” Miranda teased with a flirtatious wink. Shrugging, I rationalized that the press couldn’t tell if my nails glowed in the dark. But the idea of Greyson watching my fingers wrapped around his shaft after our evening out had my toes curling in my shoes. “Why the hell not?”
The auction was as to be expected. A spectacularly wealthy family opened their palatial, historical estate for us to ogle while enjoying a gallery-style display through gothic stone arches and looming hallways. The rich and famous did rich and famous things, most notably, mingling in dresses they’d been sewn into and eating tiny portions of pretentious food, more dog treat than substance. The women passive-aggressively fought to keep their name at the top of the hypothetical totem pole, while men flirted with women who certainly weren’t their glittering, waifish wives.
Only this time, I spent most of the hours laughing. I just needed a fellow fish out of water to fit right in.
“Why yes, good sir, I would very much enjoy throwing away all my years of education to be at thy beck and call,” Miranda intoned in her best English accent—which came out more cockney than The Queen’s English, sending me snickering into my martini glass. “Do remind me what a colossal waste of time my degree was.”
“Of course, you can build in stipulations around my required weight in our prenup.”
She splayed her hand across her chest dramatically. “So long as I may counter with required erection size.”
“Jesus,” I barked, nearly spewing my drink out of my nose as I bent over laughing, shielding my face behind our table centerpiece.
“Would likely not approve of this conversation,” Greyson’s wry voice wrapped around me like a hug after a week apart. He’d been at the office from sunup to sundown, our meetings rarely overlapping. Sneaking downstairs to sit at the kitchen island to hear him talk about his day had become the highlight of my week. He’d pull out the prepared meals the chef stored in the fridge and eat them cold right out of the container, and I’d sit and commiserate the endless expectations of his role. But I’d missed being out with him.
Perhaps pigs had actually learned to fly.
Still in stitches, I turned to find him and Royce with mirroring cat-like smirks as they both held up our respective drinks. A fresh martini for me and a strawberry lemonade for my human-incubating companion.
“I mean, consummation is a biblical event,” Miranda countered with a sly smile.
“She would know,” I pointed out, staring at her belly. Royce burst out laughing as Grey shook his head, a satisfied humor slanting his lips as he leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek.
“I’d like to get biblical tonight,” he whispered, the heat of his breath sending goosebumps down my neck as my face flushed.
“What do you think I bought this dress for?” I breathed back.
He was still smiling as he slid into his seat, clearing his throat. “Glad everyone is having fun.”
“But not too much fun,” Miranda said, lifting her strawberry lemonade.
“Alas, the limitations of motherhood,” Royce lamented playfully. “You ladies spy anything worth bidding on?”
“An Irish getaway for four, or the session with Miley Cyrus’ photographer,” Miranda supplied.
“I’m with you on the getaway,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the idea of yet another voluntary photo shoot. Personally, I was shuttered out for a hot minute. Our server arrived, pouring water refills as she made her way around the table, but her eyes kept going to Greyson. I’m not generally a possessive alpha-woman, but my god, woman, I’m right here . She was pretty, too. Kinky chocolate curls draped over her slender back, fair skin, and dark brown eyes.
My phone buzzed inside my clutch, but I ignored it, opting to set my arm across the back of his chair, playing with the ends of his hair as she looked between him and me. That’s about the point at which she fumbled Royce’s glass, sending it careening into his merlot and subsequently across the table. I’d just rocketed upright as it poured onto my lap.
“Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” In her haste to help, the woman set down the pitcher of water but managed to knock the entire thing over when she rushed to sop up the spilled wine. “Oh!” she yelped. Royce set his hand on her frantic one as she rushed to mop up the disaster.
“You’re alright,” he assured, which would have been sweet, except he made it awkward hanging onto her hand a beat longer than comfortable. Still looking terrified, she slowly removed herself from his grasp before glancing between me and Greyson.
“Mistakes happen,” Greyson added, dipping his chin to meet her terrified eyes. She smiled weakly, nodding as she hurried to clean up. More staff arrived to assist, and her trepidation seemed to increase as she looked up to me.
“Mrs. Hart, I apologize; if you come with me, I’ll help you save your dress.”
I glanced at Greyson, and when he nodded, sucked down a breath, and moved to follow. “Thank you.” Irritated with myself, I realized I’d been so swept up in Miranda and Royce and finally not feeling so alone that I hadn’t taken note of her name. I didn’t have a chance to ask as she wove us between tables and out the side room before we walked down a long hallway. I motioned to the bathroom, and she shook her head.
“A water line burst in that one,” she explained. “The staff bathroom is open, though.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I memorized the way back as the chatter of the auction faded. This place was a gothic-era labyrinth full of stone and stretching shadows, complete with beautiful golden faux torch lights jutting from the walls.
“It’s really okay,” I reassured, glancing down to the Burgundy staining my bold gold gown. Unless she was a secret sorceress, there wasn’t any saving this.
“I’m probably getting fired either way, so I might as well make it right,” she murmured, a waver in her voice as we hurried around a corner.
“I assure you, if it comes to that, Greyson will speak with your employer and make sure your position is secure.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Hart. Thank you, though.” Petrified, flecked coffee-brown eyes found me over her shoulder. What in the hell had her so spooked? Her anxiety was palpable, and somehow, my instincts said it was way worse than the prospect of losing a job. She held open the door to a two-stall bathroom, and I stepped in, looking around. She rushed to fetch a rag from the cabinet and wet it. “Oh, this isn’t working,” she muttered so quietly I barely heard her, shaking her head as she dabbed away at the inevitable disaster of Burgundy. “I have a stain remover in the other room. Give me a moment, Mrs. Hart, and I swear I’ll work miracles.”
With a sympathetic smile, I nodded and said, “I needed to escape to a restroom anyway.” The moment the door closed behind her, I sighed, studying the ridiculous space. It really was an exceptional imitation of ancient castles. The only thing out of place was the modern ventilation.
I hurried to use the restroom and wash my hands, sadly glancing down at my ruined dress. Not that it would have survived Greyson tearing it off me tonight. Anticipatory jitters rocked through my belly. We’d yet to decide what it meant, but my mind was in no rush to disrupt a dynamic we both seemed to think was working. I rotated to study the art hung against the stone walls, running my fingers over the dark wood trim dividing rock from wood. I’m not sure how long she intended to have me wait, but I didn’t want to worry Greyson with an extended absence.
Hushed voices pulled my attention from the intricate painting of the Italian countryside—what looked like a field of poppy flowers hedged by slender towering trees—and I turned, scowling, until I realized they were coming from the air vent.
Ears straining, I heard a male timbre say, “He has no idea. I promise we’re secure.”
Chills ghosted down my spine, and my intuition prickled as I stepped into the stall below the vent, attempting to get closer.
“The wife?” A low, sardonic laugh. “His diversion tactic is clueless. I said I’ll take care of it.”
What the actual fuck? Interest more than a little piqued, I scrambled up onto the back of the industrial toilet, praying my pointed heels wouldn’t lead to my untimely demise as I scaled higher, using my hands on the stall wall to balance. My phone buzzed in my clutch, and I hurried to silence it, precariously teetering on the porcelain. “It’s sent.” A brief pause, followed by a word that sent my stomach sinking with confirmed suspicion. “Passcode—Trah.”
Trah. Like T-R-A-H? Hart…backward? Had I heard him correctly? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Simultaneously, it felt idiotically obvious.
Oh shit. Glancing down to my phone, I had no less than fifteen texts and five missed calls from Max. Scrambling, I climbed off the toilet and headed for the door with no regard for my dress. Only, as I turned back the way we’d come, I heard the men’s bathroom door creak open on squeaky hinges. Seriously, did they have the creepy castle vibes installed on purpose?
Ducking into an alcove, I pressed myself into the wall, praying the room behind me wasn’t the one they were headed for, as two sets of male footsteps softly filled the hallway. Muttered voices culminated, and the three paths branched off before one set of footsteps continued on the path, and the other grew closer. Heart in my throat, I held my breath, praying the concealment of shadows hid me where I stood. My hand flew to cover my mouth as though that would silence my panic as I watched the distinct figure of Reggie Hart rush past me back toward the auction. The sound of the second pair of footsteps faded down the opposite hallway.
Son of a bitch.