Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
They were sitting in front of his father’s desk.
When they arrived home that morning, their parents were just pulling in. The set expression on his dad’s face said this wasn’t some random visit—it had a purpose.
The room was somehow always cool, even with the fireplace flickering low.
Above it hung the family portrait, the one everyone admired but only Gavin could truly appreciate.
The men were standing while in front of them sat two chairs.
Ebony sitting in front of him and his mother sitting in front of his dad.
Whitney's posture was perfect, her hand up to her shoulder holding her husband's hand, her expression cool and unshaken, as if nothing in the world could touch her.
As always Ebony was a softer opposition to her mother.
She smiled warmly toward the viewer as she sat poised with her hands neatly folded in her lap.
Gavin always liked this photo. He liked the small secret hidden within it.
His hand, not resting casually on her shoulder like he’d been told, but curled, possessively around her neck hidden by her curls.
A quiet claim he’d gotten away with. Part of him had done it to mess with her, to see if she’d break her pose.
But the other part—the real part—had done it because he needed to.
Because she was his. He could still remember the heat of her skin beneath his palm.
The tiny tremble she had tried to hide when his fingers had settled over her beating pulse.
Grant leaned forward, the slight creak of the chair focusing Gavin’s attention. He sat behind the desk, fingers laced together, his stare heavy on both of them. "I can’t decide if I’ve come back at the best time or the worst."
Ebony crossed one leg over the other, exuding a casual defiance in a fresh pair of jeans and a yellow blouse that hugged her too well. "I think it’s perfect timing. You prevented your son’s death,” she said, her voice crisp.
The urge to wrap his hand around her slender throat again made his hand twitch.
"And you narrowly escaped being imprisoned," Gavin sneered.
"Enough." Grant’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I’ve watched you two on the cameras. I've even heard some gossip floating around town. Hell, your uncle Grayson was the one to tell me. So please tell me, what the fuck is going on?"
"He said I couldn’t date!" Ebony shot back, jumping straight to the point as she turned from their father to glare at Gavin. "Who the hell gave you rights over my life?"
"You’re forgetting the setting," Gavin said, his jaw clenching. "Tell him how I spent all night tearing through this town looking for you because someone turned off the GPS on their phone. And where did I find you? In a hotel. With Cameron,” he couldn’t keep the savage growl out of his tone.
He watched her blink and look away, the guilty action sending a spike of molten rage through him.
“I know he was there. I’ll be having a conversation with him next. "
"You were where?" Grant’s voice cut in. They both looked to his darkening expression as he stared at Ebony with wide eyes.
"Dad, it wasn’t like that," she argued, her voice softening a little. "We got stuck on that side of town and booked a two-room suite just to sleep. Fully clothed. Not that it should matter. I’m not Gavin, I’m not bringing girls home to screw in our gym."
Gavin stilled at that. Seeing the pain and anger on her face he inwardly groaned. Fuck. That explained a lot. He had never meant for her to see that.
"Unfortunately, that was also something I saw on the cameras," Grant added flatly, pinning Gavin with a look.
Gavin leveled a stare back at him, he could give two shits if his father saw.
"I’m not the subject here. She is," he pointed at her trying to get him back on track. Why the hell wasn’t he losing his mind that she was at a hotel with Cameron—all fucking night?!
"And why should I be?” Ebony argued. “You think I’m going to sit at home while you treat me like shit and go around doing whatever you please? No.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin defiantly. “You must be out of your mind."
Gavin leaned over his chair, mentally willing himself not to grab her and pull her over to him. Through gritted teeth he replied, "I’m not the one-"
"She’s right." Grant interrupted him.
"She’s what?" Gavin repeated, in pure disbelief, knowing for damn sure he must have misheard.
"You heard me." Grant’s voice was steady, the weight of his authority crashing down. "As much as it pains me, I can’t tell her she can’t date while letting you do whatever you want."
Was he the only sane one here? "Have you lost your mind?"
"Have you?" Grant shot back, the challenge sharp in the air.
A muscle ticked in Gavin’s jaw. He wanted to punch the wall, his father, better yet, he wanted to find Cameron.
Did his father forget who they were talking about right now?
His favorite child. His borderline obsession?
She was practically asking for permission to fuck someone else.
And then Gavin would have to kill said bastard.
And then he would have to spend a fortune making sure his only son didn’t go to prison.
When he could just avoid all of this and lock her in her goddamn room like Gavin had every intention of doing in the first place.
Ebony flashed him a saccharine smile. "Thank you, Daddy. Can I go now?"
"Yes, but we’ll discuss this more later," Grant warned.
Ebony paused at that, confusion written on her expression. "You do remember I volunteer at the women’s clinic in the summer. I know all about—"
Grant held up his hand before she could finish. Gavin was positive if she had uttered the word sex their father would have turned to the brandy decanter sitting behind him. And then maybe then he could see Gavin's point on locking her up.
"We’ll talk later,” he repeated, a chord of finality in his tone that made her nod and quickly retreat.
Gavin watched the door shut behind her before looking back at his father with an expression of pure outrage. Why the hell was he not losing his shit? Why was he the only one that was feeling physically ill by all of this?
"Do not start," Grant said before Gavin could speak.
"Why the fuck would you do that?" Gavin snapped, pushing himself out of the chair, unable to contain the violent energy coursing through him.
"Why? You’re asking me that? I should be asking you. Why the hell was everything perfect between you two when I left and now you can’t even be in the same room without tearing each other apart." His eyes locked onto him, his features hardened.
Gavin scrubbed his face, hating the heat of frustration building in his head. "We’re fine."
He wanted to talk to her, wanted to touch her, he wanted to crush her to his side and stare down at her wide eyes—but he couldn’t. Not without possibly ruining everything.
"You’re clearly not." Grant slammed what looked to be brochures on the desk.
Gavin stopped his pacing across the office and glanced down at them, his gut twisting as he read the names of Ivy League schools. Schools that were not Harvard.
"Why is she sending off to other colleges, Gavin? Why do the security cameras make this place look like a mausoleum? You’re here, she’s gone.
She’s here, you’re gone. And even when you’re both here, you two don’t speak.
A few months ago, you two were inseparable.
Every time I checked the cameras, I found you two together.
Hanging out at the pool, laughing with friends, or wrapped around each other on the couch watching TV. Now—nothing."
Gavin squeezed his eyes shut against the memory. He could still feel her tucked against him on the couch like she belonged there.
Regret wormed its way through him like an old desiccated tree. It didn't just ache, it pained him sharp and lingering behind his ribs. He had her—and he gave it up.
"I’m trying to keep things from getting worse." He was trying to keep his family from imploding. Why couldn’t he fucking understand?
"Well, son, your plan is failing." The words hung in the air like an impending thunderstorm.