10. Chapter 10 #2
Something shifts in his eyes. Not enough to matter, barely a flicker, but I catch it. Doubt? Recognition? Sympathy? Doesn’t matter. It’s gone just as fast, swallowed by that fortress of disgust he’s been perfecting since high school.
“And I'm supposed to believe the great Jamie Nicks had no idea his family was trying to legally erase his own daughter?”
My phone buzzes yet again.
3:58.
Fuck. I'm not going to make it.
“My family lawyers were served the custody documents. They handled it without telling me.” The words leave a sour taste on my tongue.
They sound pathetic. Weak. But that’s all I’ve got, excuses, and a whole lot of shame wrapped in a preppy accent.
“When I asked him about it, he said it was just some gold-digger trying to extort money from the family.”
Zach’s jaw ticks, grinding like it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping. He stares at me, searching my face for any sign I’m full of shit. He won’t find it. I’ve told enough lies in my life to know when I’m finally standing in the truth.
“But I’d seen her picture with you and Tiff. I remembered her. The girl who looked at me like I was just some dumb guy at a party instead of the heir to the Nicks family fortune.”
I liked her. A lot.
If she hadn’t left before sunrise, I would’ve asked for her number.
Don’t know what I would’ve done with it since Honey and I were still technically a thing back then.
I would’ve found a way to use it. Or maybe I wouldn’t.
Maybe that’s what makes this all so fucked up. I didn’t even get the chance to try.
Zach shakes his head. “You're lying.”
“I'm not. Believe me when I say I would never willingly give up my child.”
There’s silence. Not the kind that invites peace, but the kind that simmers and festers and waits to explode. He doesn’t believe me. Not yet, but he doesn’t interrupt either, so I keep going.
“Do you know what the most fucked up part of all this is? I didn’t even know her name until I got here. Ella.” My throat tightens around the syllables. “It’s beautiful.”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “You’re not going anywhere near her.”
I check my watch again. 4:01.
I've already blown it.
“I think that's for Tiff to decide.” I say, pulling out my phone and holding it up so he can see the text. “She wants to meet me. Today. Right now, actually. I’m late.”
Zach’s expression flickers, something sharp and uncertain creeping into his eyes as he reads the message on my screen with her name on the top.
His features twist as though he’s trying to work out if I hacked her phone or blackmailed her into responding.
Classic Evans—assuming I’m the villain in every story.
To be fair, he’d be right for the most part, but he’s got it wrong this time.
“Tiff knows you’re here?”
“I gave her a letter,” I say. “She read it and we met yesterday.”
The fire in his eyes dims, and he narrows them to see if I’m lying. Clearly, Tiff didn’t tell him, and he’s realizing in real time that he’s not as in the loop as he thought.
“Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me about this?”
I shrug, doing my best to look casual even as my chest pounds. “Maybe because she knew you’d react exactly like this?”
He glares at me before he stares down at my phone again. “Show me that message.”
I hand him the phone. Let him read it. Hell, I’m happy for him to go through my messages and read every single one of them at this point. I have nothing to hide anymore.
Tiff: I read your letter. We need to talk. I’ll be on the St. Michael’s campus by the Summers’ building at 12 tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll see you there. Tiff.
Without warning, he steps aside and juts his chin forward. “Let's go.”
I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
“You think I’m letting you meet with her alone? Fuck that.” He spins and starts walking, muscles coiled tight, every step screaming don’t-test-me. “I’m coming with you.”
I stand there for half a second, stunned. “I don’t think that’s what Tiff had in mind—”
“I don’t give a shit what you think,” he snaps, turning around. “You want to talk to Tiff? Fine, but you’re doing it with me there, or not at all.”
It’s not how I pictured this moment going.
Not even close. I imagined nervous stammering, maybe a hug from Ella if I was lucky.
Tears if I wasn’t. Not a chaperoned walk of shame with my former rival glaring holes into the back of my head, but I’m not in a position to argue.
Not when this might be the only opening I get.
“Fine,” I mutter, falling into step beside him, practically jogging to match his pace.
We’re halfway down the quad, walking in silence when I mutter, mostly to myself, “Feels like we’re going to a firing squad.”
Zach doesn’t look over. “Maybe you are.”
“Cool, cool. Should I walk ahead so you get a clean shot?”
No response.
Okay then.
So much for tension-breaking humor. I let out a dry exhale and keep my mouth shut, staring ahead as guilt coils tighter in my gut. I don’t blame him. Not for the silence, not for the suspicion, not even for the threat in his tone. I earned it. All of it.
My phone buzzes again. I don’t need to look to know who it is, but since I like the pain, I check it.
Father: You’ve just unleashed a world of hurt for that girl. I hope you’re happy.
I slide the phone back into my pocket without responding. Let him cut me off. Let him scream into his granite countertops about legacy and betrayal. The only betrayal I see is from him.
Besides, this is bigger than a bank account, and for the first time in a long time, I know exactly what I’m walking toward.