Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
TALON
I wake up at Gideon’s with my neck screaming and a throw pillow trying to suffocate me. The couch is comfortable for a couch, but my spine still feels like I lost a fight with a washing machine on the rinse cycle.
For a second, I forget why I’m here.
Then last night hits.
Penelope’s voice shaking when she repeated my mom’s text.
Stepdaughter is getting pushy. No one can know what Minxy saw the night with Todd. Todd will lead to Dominic, and that cannot happen.
My father’s name in my mom’s secrets feels like a stain.
I scrub a hand over my face and sit up slowly. The place smells like coffee and laundry detergent and something faintly sweet that is definitely Penelope’s shampoo. It’s almost cozy if I pretend my world isn’t on fire.
Voices murmur from the kitchen.
I push to my feet and follow the smell of coffee.
Penelope stands by the counter in one of Gideon’s shirts, this one black and hanging off one shoulder like some kind of personal attack.
Her hair is in a messy knot, damp at the ends.
Silas is at the stove, moving a pan with way too much focus.
Gideon is at the table again, laptop open, eyes already narrowed like he is hunting something.
All three of them look up when I walk in.
“Hey,” Penelope says softly.
Her voice is normal, but her eyes are swollen at the edges. She cried after I passed out. I know it without asking.
“Hey,” I answer, reaching for a mug. “Anyone dead yet, or are we saving that for tomorrow?”
Gideon snorts into his coffee. “Dark humor before eggs. Healthy sign.”
Silas slides a plate of scrambled eggs onto the table. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I start.
His eyebrows rise.
I sit. “I’m… moderately hungry.”
Penelope hides a smile behind her mug.
Gideon closes the laptop and looks at me. “You need to go back to your dorm today.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Yeah. I figured.”
“We cannot give Abi a reason to think anything has changed,” he says. “You know she’ll be keeping tabs on you since she thinks she has the ability to send you away again. So stick to the everyday routine, the same slightly annoying son who pushes her buttons.”
It hits how much he’s trusting me, and it feels heavy in my chest. “Right.”
Silas leans back, studying me. “You keep your phone on you at all times. You check our chat.”
I nod. “Got it.”
Penelope sets her mug down. “If she wants you at dinner, you go to dinner. If she complains about me, let her. Don’t defend me. Please.”
That one stings.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because if you suddenly become my biggest fan, she’ll get suspicious,” Penelope says. “Let her think she turned you against me. It keeps the attention on her ego and not on what we’re doing.”
I hate how much sense that makes.
“Fine,” I say. “I can pretend I’m pissed at you.”
Her mouth twitches. “You’re not?”
“Not anymore,” I mutter.
Silas and Gideon both pretend they didn’t hear that.
When breakfast is over, I rinse my plate and shove my hands in my pockets because I don’t know what to do with them. Penelope comes to stand in front of me, closer than is polite and not nearly as close as I want.
“Text when you get home,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “You sound like my mom.”
Her expression flickers. “Funny.”
“Too soon,” I admit.
She reaches up and straightens the strings of my hoodie. Her fingers linger for half a second. “One day,” she says quietly. “We’ll get her out tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I say. “If I don’t implode first.”
“You won’t,” she says. “I’m too stubborn to let you.”
I almost lean in. Almost kiss her right there between the sink and the coffee maker. Gideon clears his throat in a way that suggests he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I step back.
“Go,” he says. “We have work to do. You too, Penelope. Time to go to college and act like it’s a regular weekday.”
I grab my backpack from the couch, shove my feet into my sneakers, and head for the door.
The drive back to my dorm feels like being pulled in two directions. Part of me wants to turn the car around, go back and hide at Gideon’s until this is all over. The other part of me knows I’m the only reason Minxy will not completely lose her mind when we drag her out of that place.
I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine.
My dorm looks exactly the same as when I left it—messy bed, half-open textbooks, the hoodie I meant to wash three days ago still draped over my chair.
Normal.
But I’m not normal.
I shut the door behind me, drop my backpack on the floor, then my phone buzzes, and my stomach drops.
I just stare at the screen for a few seconds, debating letting it go to voicemail, but I swipe to answer.
“Hello,” I say.
There’s a soft click I’m guessing is a headset.
“Hello, is this Talon Grant?” A woman’s professional voice comes through the line.
“Yes.”
“This is Mrs. Keller calling from St. Helen’s. You’re listed as a secondary contact for Minxy Grant.”
Everything within me locks up.
“Is she okay?” I ask immediately.
“Yes,” she says, and I almost laugh, because it’s the most dishonest yes I’ve ever heard in my life.
“Then what’s this about?” I hit the record call button and pray that I’m about to get something that helps my sister.
“We’re calling to inform you that Minxy’s communication schedule has been adjusted. She’ll not be making her usual weekly calls or sending emails… for the foreseeable future.”
The room shrinks around me.
“For the foreseeable future…” I repeat slowly.
“Yes,” she says again. “Her care team determined that limiting external contact is in her best therapeutic interest.”
My pulse spikes so hard I feel it behind my eyes.
“She needs her family,” I snap. “Not isolation.”
“I understand this is difficult,” she says with a tone that proves she absolutely doesn’t. “If you have concerns, you’re welcome to contact our administrative office. Thank you for your time, Mr. Grant.”
The line goes dead.
I lower the phone, and the whole room blurs. I grab the edge of my desk so hard I think I might rip it out of the floor.
No calls.
No emails.
No contact.
They’re cutting her off.
Penelope's voice from last night slams through me: No one can know what Minxy saw the night with Todd. Todd will lead to Dominic, and that cannot happen.
My throat closes. I open the group chat.
Gideon: Check in when you get there.
Penelope: Text me or I’m showing up, Talon. Don’t be stupid.
My fingers shake.
Me: Just got a call from St. Helen’s. They’re cutting off all family contact. No calls. No emails. “For the foreseeable future.” I recorded the call.
The three dots appear instantly.
Gideon: Save the call. Don’t delete anything.
Silas: You answered live?
Me: Yeah.
Penelope: Is she okay? Did they say anything else?
My chest aches.
Me: “Her care team has decided limiting external contact is in her best therapeutic interest.” No time frame. No details.
More dots with a long pause.
Gideon: This confirms what we suspected. They’re tightening everything before the evaluation.
Silas: Do NOT call back. Don’t panic. Don’t act weird.
Penelope: Talon… are you alone?
I look around my shitty dorm room.
Me: Yeah.
Penelope: Breathe for me. Four in, six out.
I do what she says. It doesn’t stop the shaking, but it keeps me upright.
Gideon: Forward everything. Then act normal. Abi cannot get a whiff of this.
Silas: They’re scared. Or they know something’s coming. Either way—we stick to the plan.
I forward it all and place the phone face down on my bed because if I look at it again, I’ll throw it out the damn window.
Then—
A knock.
My whole body jerks. My pulse explodes. Abi?
Did she call the school? Did she—
But then—
“Hey,” Penelope’s voice says through the door, soft but familiar. “Open up.”
I blow out a breath so shaky it’s embarrassing and unlock the door. She stands there with two coffees in her hands, hair down, wearing a soft cream sweater that should be illegal this early in the day.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, voice rougher than it should be.
She smiles and presses one of the white cups into my hand. “Thought we’d walk to class together,” she says. “You ready?”
Something in me unravels. She’s normal. She’s here. She’s not going anywhere. I take a sip of coffee just so I don’t say something pathetic.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Let me change.”
I pull my shirt off, and I don’t miss the way her eyes instantly track over every inch of exposed skin. She drags her gaze up to my face, cheeks slightly pink.
I smirk. “See something you like?”
She huffs and looks away, but the blush stays.
I yank on a quarter-zip, slide into black joggers, shove my feet into my Birks, and grab my backpack.
“Let’s go, baby,” I say without thinking.
Her breath catches.
She doesn’t correct me.
We head out together.