26. Chapter 26
Asher: Will be there in thirty. I better see your pretty face when I get there. I deserve it after all the shit your dad has put me through.
I toss my phone on the desk and let out a humorless laugh.
Put him through?
What an overdramatic asshole. A few nonconsequential threats from my father and he's acting like he's actually suffered.
He should see the shit my father’s put me through. The shit he's put Tiff through.
No. Thatcher Hastings wouldn't last a day living with the consequences of his actions.
I run a hand through my hair, annoyed that I'm even thinking these things about my best friend, and the only person in my old life actually helping me in this mess instead of trying to convince me to leave them behind.
Lying down on my bed, I stare at the peeling wallpaper in my hotel room, studying the same crack in the ceiling that I’ve been memorizing since I got here.
It does nothing to ease the tension.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
I have a vague plan to go and confront my father, but that's about it. He's playing dirty, and I don't have the reach or means to match him.
The longer I lie there, the clearer it starts to get—I’m in too deep.
I'm stuck in a cage. A gilded, suffocating cage I thought I'd escaped.
I was wrong.
My father's reach is longer than I expected. Even from miles away, he knows exactly where to cut, and how to make me bleed.
And serving Tiff those papers was the final blow. He's lost his patience since cutting me off and stifling my job opportunities did nothing to bring me back, so now he's gone for the jugular.
My heart. My soul. My family.
My phone dings with a notification that my driver has arrived, so I slowly roll out of bed and take my bag from the floor.
I grab my phone and head out of the hotel room, but not before looking back and taking in the space that's now devoid of all my belongings.
I'll be back to Hope, but not here.
When I'm in the car, I pull my phone out, finally sifting through all of the messages I haven’t bothered replying to since this morning.
I didn’t want to tell Tiff where I was going, but I equally couldn’t lie to her, so I decided the best course of action was to just not look.
If she knew what I was doing—where I was going, I doubt she'd believe I was coming back to her.
But this is the only way I'm going to be able to prove to her that I'm all in. I will fight for her…more than Zach ever could.
Tiff's messages are the first to show up.
Tiff: Zach’s been on the phone to our lawyers all afternoon.
Tiff: We’ll figure this out together. We want you here.
Of course Zach has his shit together. The guy I tormented in high school. The guy who stepped up and raised my daughter while I was busy destroying my own life. And now he's cleaning up another one of my messes.
His white-knight syndrome is on full display since Honey decided she needed a break from all the chivalrous shit. Can't say I blame her. It must be tough trying to date someone who is so unintentionally perfect.
I type out a quick response:
Jamie: We will.
That's all I write because what else is there to say? That I’m grateful? That watching Zach immediately spring into action—calling lawyers, reviewing documents, planning strategy—makes me feel like the useless piece of shit I've always been?
No. That's exactly what your father wants you to believe. You're going back and proving everyone wrong.
I press into Zach's messages next.
Zach: Lawyer says we need to file a counter-motion. Where are you? We need to talk strategy.
I type out the only appropriate response.
Jamie: Call off the lawyers. I’m handling this. Tell Tiff I love her
Zach: What does that mean? Jamie, don't do anything stupid.
Too late. I'm already doing something stupid, but for once, it's my stupid decision to make.
As the car pulls up to Hope's private airport, I spot Asher's jet immediately—sleek, black, impossibly expensive. It is the epitome of everything I used to take advantage of.
He's standing on the tarmac in designer sunglasses and a leather jacket, looking like he just walked off a photoshoot instead of dropping everything to fly across the country for me.
“Nicks!” He grins, stretching his arms out wide, expecting me to accept a bro hug.
“Asher,” I mutter, walking past him, straight to the jet.
“Wow.” He blows out an annoyed breath. “Good to see you too, Asshole. Next time I'll save my jet for someone who cares.”
I grip the railing, heading up the stairs to his jet, without looking back. “Oh, please. You'd never leave me. I'm the only person who puts up with all your shit.”
He lets out a low, hearty chuckle. “You've got that right, brother,” he says, following up closely behind me.
After being greeted by an air hostess, I stop and turn, holding out my hand. “Seriously, thanks for this, man. I know it's short notice.”
He takes my hand, finally pulling me into that bro hug. “Eh, what else am I going to do? Actually attend lectures?”
He barks out a laugh at the truth of his situation. Since getting into Covey U, he’s spent most of his time traveling up to Southern Collegiate to see some girl. It's not like his attendance at Covey U matter, though. The guy will always earn a pass with the Hastings name attached to him.
I pull away from the hug and walk down the aisle, dropping into my usual seat with the cream leather and black stitching. Ash follows, uncorking a bottle of whiskey as he goes. He sets out a few glasses, then sits beside me and pushes one across the console.
I catch it, but I'm not planning on having a drink. If I'm meeting with my father, I need to be sharp and on point.
“So, how's your new fam? Are they still worth giving up everything for?”
“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation. “They're—” I pause, trying to find words that don't sound completely pathetic. “They're everything I didn't know I needed, Asher.”
It's all I say.
The silence stretches between us, and when I look back at Asher, he's smiling at me.
“I'm happy for you, dude. I've never seen you care about anything other than yourself before.
It's good to see you can grow. Well, at least in some places. You might need to see a doctor for your other problems.” He raises a brow, his eyes dropping to the wood table covering my crotch.
I roll my eyes, knocking his foot under the table between us. “What about you? How's that girl you've been obsessed with for years? Briar, right?”
Asher’s smile immediately falls, and he groans, pouring more than his fair share of whiskey into his glass.
“Doesn't matter.”
“What do you mean it doesn't matter?” I lean forward. “Last I heard, you were planning some grand gesture to win her over.”
“Yeah, well.” He takes a long, slow sip of his whiskey. “That didn't go to plan.”
“Not surprised.” The voice comes from the front of the cabin, and I flick my gaze up to see Honey strutting down the aisle toward us. “When your grand gesture is stalking, I get why she doesn't want to see your crazy ass again.”
“Honey?” I blink, certain I'm seeing things. She takes the empty seat next to Asher, who takes my empty glass and puts it in front of her. He lifts the whiskey in question, and she nods with no emotion on her face.
“What are you—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Thatcher called me,” she says, taking her own sip of whiskey. “Did you really think I wouldn't be here for the takedown of our fathers?”
Before I can answer, Asher elbows her playfully. “Hey, are you ever going to call me Asher like the rest of our friends?”
Honey's eyes narrow to slits, and she looks at Asher like he just asked to see her tits-which, to be fair, he actually did once.
He was a clueless sophomore with a cocky attitude, and she and I were seniors.
Why he thought my girlfriend was the right person to ask is beyond me, but I can't hold it against him.
The kick in the balls he got from Honey was punishment enough for it.
“You have never been my friend, Thatcher.”
The temperature in the cabin drops about twenty degrees.
“Friends would tell friends when their boyfriend is cheating on them behind their backs,” she continues, her voice sharp with annoyance. “You knew about all those girls Jamie was sleeping with and did nothing about it. Just covered for him like the loyal little sidekick you've always been.”
Asher backs all the way to the window, looking more frightened than I've ever seen him.
I flinch, shame burning hot in my chest over how I treated her. It's something I doubt I'll ever really get over. Still, they were my sins, and my friend shouldn't have to pay for them in death glares from my ex. “Honey, I—”
“Save it.” She holds up a hand. “I'm over what you did.”
Her gaze focuses back on Asher. “What I'm not over is the people who treated me like shit. Who made me feel like I was crazy for suspecting something was wrong. Who gaslit me into thinking I was being paranoid while you two laughed about it behind closed doors.”
“We never laughed—” Asher starts, but Honey's facial expression doesn't change.
“Don't.” She points her finger at him, and they're so close, it makes Asher go cross-eyed. “Don't try to rewrite history, Thatcher. You were part of it. You enabled it, and I won't pretend to be your friend just because we're all supposedly on the same side now.”
Her chest is heaving and so is Asher's as we sit in silence, letting her words sink in. Or, at least I am. Asher's eyes are roaming Honey like he's just seen her for the first time.
“Fuck, Honey. When the hell did you get so hot?”
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing went into that tiny pea brain of yours, did it?”
Asher raises his hands. “I'm just saying, if you ever get bored of that football player, I'm here, and I play hockey. Rumor has it, we're better in bed. Got more stamina.”
Honey's eyes widen, her mouth opens, and she huffs out the most annoyed breath I've ever heard from her. “Unbelievable.”
“Honey,” I cut in, attempting to save my friend from more humiliation. “I'm sorry. For all of it. For making Asher complicit in my bullshit. For treating you like you were disposable. For—”
“I know.” Her expression softens just slightly, as she settles in her seat. “I know you're sorry. I've heard it before.” She takes a breath. “That's why I'm here. Our parents don't get to win this time, and I'm not letting you fight them alone.”
The pilot's voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our imminent departure. I buckle my seatbelt, my brain still trying to process that Honey—the girl I destroyed, the girl I treated like garbage—is here to help me.
“Girl's right.” Asher lifts his glass, looking between the two of us with a wide smile. “It's about time someone stood up to your families. They've been wreaking havoc all over the golf club for decades.”
“I don’t deserve this,” I say quietly. “But—thank you. For being here.”
She lets out a quiet breath through her nose. “You’re right. You don’t deserve it.”
Then she meets my eyes. “But your daughter doesn’t deserve what they’re trying to do. Neither does Tiff.”
“You’re right. This isn’t about me,” I say. “I just need to make sure Ella’s safe. That she gets to stay where she’s loved. With her mom.”
The jet engines roar to life, and we start moving down the runway. I watch Hope disappear beneath us through the window—the campus, the town, everything I've built in the past few weeks getting smaller and smaller.
Somewhere down there, Tiff is probably pacing Zach's living room, reading those papers over and over. Ella's probably asking why I left without saying goodbye.
“I left them,” I say, more to myself than anyone else. “Tiff texted me asking where I was, and I just… left.”
“To fix this,” Honey points out. “Not to run away. There's a difference.”
“Is there? What if this doesn't work? What if my father refuses to back off and I just make everything worse?”
“Then we go to war.” Honey pulls out her laptop, flipping it open.
“I've been working at Sanderson and Nicks for months now, Jamie. I have access to everything. Every shady deal, every near-blackmail attempt, every string they’ve pulled.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard.
“If they don't drop this custody case, we bury them in their own shit.”
Asher whistles low. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Too late.” She doesn't look up from her screen. “You've been on my shit list since sophomore year, Hastings.”
“Fair enough.” He takes a sip of his whiskey, an amused smile covering his face.
As the jet levels out above the clouds, Honey is back on her laptop, pulling up files and documents that she plans on showing me.
Asher, on the other hand is watching her in awe as he pours himself another whiskey.
I sit there, holding my phone, willing myself not to text Tiff until I have actual good news to share.
“I’ll fix this,” I whisper to the photo of her and Ella on my lock screen. “I promise everything will be better when I get back.”
Asher must hear me because he raises his glass. “To terrible plans and the idiots who make them.”
“Hear, hear,” Honey mutters without looking up.
I don't have a drink to toast with, but I nod anyway.
Because in a few hours, I'll be standing in my father's study, offering him a deal that will either save my family or destroy any chance I have of a future with them.
And for the first time in my life, I'm ready for whatever comes next.