50. FIFTY #2
“Give me that time, okay? Please, sweetheart. I need more time. That’s all I’m asking.”
He studies me, and the harsh glint in his eyes makes my stomach swoop with worry. “That’s all?”
I nod fast, stepping into his space more and wrapping my arms around his waist. He has no choice but to unfold his.
Firm hands land on my chest, and he stares at me for long seconds.
The muscles in his jaw flex over and over before he finally relaxes.
“Promise me. Promise me that you aren’t just saying this knowing it won’t ever happen.
Promise me that everything we’ve done and are doing is real.
Promise me that you won’t leave me too.”
“I promise.” The words leave my lips, and he clings to me.
I rub his back while he stuffs his face in the crook of my neck, and we hold each other for long seconds. “I promise,” I whisper again, knowing he needs to hear it.
“I believe you."
I believe me too.
Alex keeps calling me, but I ignore it.
I’m driving to my parent’s house and I have to keep my shit together.
No signs of weakness or fear.
No backtracking on my story, or fumbling details.
Whatever crap going on at OAT in my absence will have to wait. The company can go to the CEO after all. I bring the cigarette wedged between my fingers up to my mouth and inhale deeply.
Like any interview that borders on an interrogation, I review everything in my head one last time.
Gray was homeless, seemed capable, so I offered to help him in an attempt to better understand the flaws in our state’s system, specifically the foster system.
How neglect, abuse, and overall poor management have played a huge role in the homeless population.
I will keep things simple and to the point. There doesn’t need to be any details about Gray as a person. He’s a number as far as this conversation is concerned. He’s a means to an end, so my dad, the governor, can take this information and make necessary improvements.
This will work.
My dad will see it as me taking initiative, that I’m determined to learn about the people of our state, and when the time comes, I’ll be a good candidate for governor.
I’ll blow O’Connell right out of the running.
It’ll be fine.
So why can’t I fucking breathe?
The drive to their house goes by too quickly; before I know it, I’m in the driveway.
I brace myself, swallow down the ball in my throat, and ignore the rapid thumping of my pulse.
My mom’s car is missing from the driveway, and Felix and Isaac’s SUV is gone, too, which means I won’t have her here for a buffer.
Even though I’m not over our conversation, it would’ve been nice to have a witness for this in case it all goes horribly wrong.
Fuck. It’s going to go wrong, isn’t it?
Bile rushes up my throat, but again, I swallow it down.
The mask is in place; I can’t let it fracture and fall apart now.
Straightening my spine, I open the front door and walk in.
The soft drone of the TV is on in the living room, and a news station is rattling on and on about stock markets.
A clink in the kitchen signals life, so I head that way.
Dressed in his typical suit, my dad stands at the counter, staring out the window.
As much as we differ in our appearances, his demeanor and posture make me know he’s my father.
I open my mouth to say something, but the sharp inhale tells me not to speak.
He’s pissed. The text was a facade to lure me here.
Damn it to hell.
“I won’t repeat myself as I have in my many texts, Hunter.”
“Dad, I—”
His hand shoots up, silencing me. Still staring out the window, he continues in a calm voice, “You will do what I say when I say it, and I won’t hear otherwise.”
“Can I at least explain—”
“Hunter Everett!” he growls, solidifying me to stone with his sharp glare. My stomach twists, sending warning bells through my skull and a palpable desperation to fix it. To get in his good graces again. “A felon, son? You brought a felon into your home?”
I know better than to respond, so I don’t. My head dips, and I drop my gaze to the floor. In an attempt to hide my balled-up fists, I slide them into my pockets.
“Our public appearance is everything. I don’t care what half-cocked idea you had when you decided this would be acceptable.
And I don’t care what excuses you’ve spent the last day coming up with to try and force feed me.
” He straightens his already straight tie.
“What do you think will happen when other unfortunate people hear this unbelievable story? Go on, answer me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t be an idiot. I raised you better.”
My pulse skyrockets. “They’ll think it can happen to them.”
“Exactly. And just how many state officials, both elected and not, would want a homeless felon in their home? Sleeping where they sleep? Eating the food they earned? How many, son?”
I glance at him, not sure if this is redundant. The dip of his head is subtle, so I answer. “None. But I was trying to—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” His voice echoes off the kitchen walls.
A few breaths are taken before he slices his hand through the air.
“Not a single person would allow this. And you, of all people, should know better. I am the governor, and in just a few short years, I’ll be the senator ofWashington.
If my own son is bringing in the street trash, how many others will come knocking at our door?
What has gotten into you? How could you do something this moronic , Hunter? ”
Swallowing, I open my mouth, but he shushes me instantly.
“Get rid of him. If he is at your house, I’ll have security called this instant.”
“I can’t!”
My dad goes eerily still for long seconds while we both digest what I said. “Dad, please, he’s a friend and I promised—”
The loud click of his loafers over the tile floor breaks through my plea, and before I can register what’s happening, he raises his right hand and slaps me. “Get. Rid. Of. Him.”
My cheek burns, but I don’t touch it. “Nothing is going to come between me and winning this election. Nothing. Not your drunk of a mother and not my idiot son. Get rid of that man or so help me god, Hunter.”
Everything hurts.
Tears scald the backs of my eyes, threatening to prove how weak and stupid I am. I bite my cheek so my chin stops wobbling.
The worst part is that my dad has already dismissed me; he’s left the kitchen, and I’m just standing here, rooted to the spot. He didn’t give me a chance to explain, didn’t care that I was doing the right thing.
How could he not see that—hell, or even think it was a possibility?
It takes me a while, but I manage to get my legs to work again and leave the kitchen. He’s said what he had to, and now it’s my job to do it. The good news is that he doesn’t know where Gray is.
I can continue lying.
Going back and forth from the summer house to work will be tough, but it’s not the worst thing ever.
“Hunter,” I stop in the foyer, facing the living room, where my dad is filling his decanter with scotch.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I hit you. That was…wrong.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
He nods once and tosses the drink back. “Do the right thing, Hunter. I know I’m hard on you, but it's because I love you. Do you understand?”
Because I love you.
Because he loves me.
The last time my dad said that to me, I was eight years old and had won my first debate at school. Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest as I stare at him.
He loves me.
With a heavy sigh, my dad sets his glass down. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“I understand,” I chirp quickly. “I understand, Dad.”
“Good.” He seems okay. Better. Maybe I can still have both. “I want him gone tonight, son. He’s nothing and no one, don’t let it weigh on your conscience. People like him make their own bed, and it isn’t up to you to spare him from lying in it. And if he isn’t gone, I’ll have him removed.”
Unable to answer him, I merely nod.
“Your mother is making roast tomorrow for dinner. Be here.”
I nod again and hurry to the front door.