13. RYAN #2
He opens the box and lays pieces on the bed, including the lock of hair, which I side-eye him for.
“What’s all this, Gid?”
Gideon fucking blushes. “I like someone.”
I raise a judgmental brow. “Like someone? This looks like you’re getting ready to make lampshades from their skin.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, he hates me because I’m a hockey player—he really fucking hates hockey players. Wishes we were all dead.”
For reasons I can’t comprehend, that makes him smile. And on Gideon, his smile only makes him look more like he’s about to make human-skin lampshades.
“This is all I can do. Watch him from afar,” he says with some un-Gideon-like whimsy in his voice. What the fuck?
“Do I wanna know how you got that hair?”
“Wren stole it for me during Block training.”
That’s when my intuition tingles. Turn back! Turn back, now! “A freshie,” I whisper, almost to myself. “With the same color hair as Griff.”
Gideon rolls his eyes. “Griff’s not the only one on the planet with red hair.”
I don’t argue. Not only is that true, but he wouldn’t get it. Only us Savage siblings would notice the nuance. Our mother had amber hair—red with threads of gold. That’s where Griff got it from. And there’s just something about the way the light hits it …
There’s also the way my stomach’s been flipping upside down since he mentioned where he got that hair.
“First of all, that’s fucking creepy, bro. Just sayin’.” Though I’m one to talk. I’m the obsess-ee—is that the right term?—in my situation, and apparently, I’m good with it. I take a breath. “What’s the guy’s name?”
Gideon rocks back and forth on his feet. “That’s the part I don’t really wanna tell you if I’m bein’ honest.”
“Gid.”
“His dad’s Gregory Kline.”
“What the fuck?” I almost grab his throat again. That’s super messed up.
“Sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay? Yet another reason why I’m just … enjoying him from afar.”
“You’re stalking him, Gideon.”
“Okay, fine. Some light stalking. But I’ve tried to give him up. I fucking can’t, Rye. I’m fully addicted.”
There it is again. Wistful longing I’ve never seen on Gideon. My chest tightens because I get it, but it’s fucking Kline’s son. Wait, one of Kline’s sons. Kline said there were two. He didn’t say the other one went to North Point. For all I know, he has him locked up at the estate somewhere.
And goddammit. Now I’m thinking about that again.
I have to play the exhausting game of pushing it out of my mind way more than is healthy.
I’m waiting for the dominoes I knocked over—fucking karate chopped over—to fall.
Father thinks he’s going to make me marry Kline.
Once again, his insurance was Griff until I told him I’d walk.
So far, he hasn’t done anything, but he could any day, so I think about it every day.
“Look, I know Kline’s a huge dick, but Cooper’s nothing like Kline. And I also know he’ll be your stepson, so I guess that’s weird and—”
I push his shoulder. “He’s not gonna be my stepson, Gid. Fuck.”
“I mean, it’s looking pretty bad on that front.”
“Not helpful,” I bite out.
Running a hand through my hair a few times, I look over his stuff, mind racing with everything that’s happened. “Are those … sequins?” There’s a square of fabric with shiny blue.
“Yep,” he says, pride filling his chest. “Cooper’s a figure skater. He’s so fucking beautiful. Wanna see some footage?”
“You record him?”
“Not doing anything private. Well, I mean, he doesn’t want me anywhere near him, so I guess anything counts as private, but just of him practicing. I sneak into the rink sometimes, film for a bit, then leave.”
“I need new friends.”
“Hey. You wanna marry a psychopath. You don’t get to judge me.”
“I never said …” I never said I’d marry Tate, but yeah, I’m probably gonna marry Tate, so I leave it. “I don’t want to see your creepy ass footage, Gid. No offense.”
“None taken.”
I’m still staring at the lock of hair. Something’s not right.
“Are we cool?”
Exhaling, I nod. “Yeah, we’re cool, but Gid? Be careful. Kline’s not gonna want you near his son. He’s probably got some weird ass merger planned with another family.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I want the hundred thousand, by the way. I want to do what I have planned with money that’s mine, rather than with Thorne money. I don’t want this coming down on my family when I make my move.”
“What the fuck are you planning?”
He winces. “It’s probably for the best you don’t know either.”
Well fuck me. This is a problem but, unfortunately, it’ll have to be for Future Me to deal with.
My plate’s kinda full right now. Besides, I’ve never seen the guy so serene.
He might as well enjoy it while he can. So, I also don’t mention that it’ll take a hell of a lot more than one hundred thousand dollars to do whatever he’s planning to do with Kline’s son.
Early Monday morning, after practice, I’m by my locker when my phone rings. “Where is he?” Father says.
“Where’s who, sir?”
“Gregory Kline.”
You know? If I never hear his name again, it’ll be too fucking soon.
“I didn’t know he was missing, sir.”
He curses. “When he’s found—and he will be found—we’re not putting off the family merger any longer. You’ll marry Gregory.”
“But sir—”
“Your tattoo removal starts today. It’s part of the contract, which I’ve signed.”
“What the fuck? You can’t sign me over in a goddamn contract.”
“Someone will pick you up today after classes for your appointment,” he carries on, ignoring me.
He’s gone after that. No negotiations or even confirmations, expecting his word to be followed. And as much as I’m trying to push back, I’m very aware that Griff’s still on campus. But for how long?
Do what he says, and it’ll stay that way, a little voice whispers, even though I fucking know that’s not true. How can any part of me still be that fucking na?ve? I’ve let Father string me along for years, chipping away at my autonomy until I have almost nothing left.
I slam my locker shut, rubbing a hand over my face. My one saving grace is that Kline’s missing for now. Maybe he’ll stay missing. Wait, does his son know he’s missing? Fuck, I better not have him knocking at my door, too.
By lunch, I’ve resigned myself to going to the appointment, and the tidal wave of dread that comes with that consumes me.
I constantly scan the exits, analyzing all the faces, pulse pounding in my throat.
My brain’s decided to come up with a thousand reasons why Father wants me off campus. Is this when he’ll take Griff?
My fingers itch to call Tate. This is why I made the deal with him. This isn’t the time for my ugly pride to show its face.
What’s stopping me?
“I have to be off campus today,” I announce to the table. “I shouldn’t be long, but I need someone to watch over Griff.”
“I’ll do it,” Rhys says. There’s something final in his voice. As if he’d be doing it anyway. But I would have thought my other friends would volunteer, too. Rhys clears his throat.
“Uh, I’ll help,” Torin says. “I’ll get Scout on the case.”
“Where Scout is, you’ll find Wren,” Gideon—stalker Gideon—says. I shouldn’t be judging him, but maybe I am just a little. Besides my misgivings about stalking, his little addiction might divert his focus, though, so I’m glad it’ll be his brother, not him, looking out for Griff.
“Thanks, guys.”
Kane hasn’t said anything. We all look in his direction. “I have a life, Ryan. We can’t all jump when you bark orders. Why aren’t you asking your rich boyfriend for some help?”
Is he the echo in my head? “I don’t expect anyone to jump. What’s your fucking problem today?” He’s usually supportive.
“Leave it,” he snaps. He glares at the table, pointedly not eating, tapping his fingers against the wood.
“Consider it left. Jesus.” I exchange a look with Rhys, because Kane’s not okay, but if I ask him what’s wrong, I’ll just get snapped at again. He makes a cutting motion across his throat.
After all that, I can’t help but search for Griff, the nervous energy buzzing through me. My eyes land on his shaved head, his hair’s grown out enough to hit the North Point military fade. Clean on the sides, enough on top to see the burning amber. I can almost make out his freckles from here.
That haunting sensation hollowing my insides returns. He looks fine, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to happen. Even if I stay, what can I do to stop them from taking Griff? A heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“They’ll have to get through me,” Rhys says. “And you know that not much gets by me.”
I nod, too riled up to acknowledge his goalie joke with the eye roll it deserves, taking a bite of my sandwich and forcing myself to swallow.
At least Gideon’s happy, smiling away, gaze locked on someone at the figure skating team’s table.
Gid elbows me. “That’s him. I’m so gonna marry his ass one day. ”
He’s facing away, so I can’t get a good look at him, but his red hair’s growing in, too. He’s a slight thing, and there’s something about the way he moves. It’s familiar. I squint, trying to get a better look, hoping he’ll turn around—
“Hey, that’s enough. Stop lookin’,” Gid says. Did he just growl at me?
I laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Not interested.” If only he knew how taken I am.
“Don’t care. Keep looking, and I’ll stab your eyes out with this fork.”
But he’s the one who wanted me to … know what? Never mind. It’s adorable. Something I never thought I’d say about Gideon in a million years. I hope Cooper can handle the eldest Thorne brother.
I get through my classes, though I didn’t pay attention in any of them, and as promised, I’m notified there’s a driver outside for me at the end of the day.
It’s not what I expected. These places are supposed to be, like, skincare clinics—I looked it up the first time my father told me I’d be getting everything removed. This place is the back alley of skincare clinics. It can’t be legal.