Chapter 10 Family Expectations
Harold Bennett's Ultimatum
The first kiss should have made everything easier.
Instead, it made everything more complicated.
Not because Eli regretted it.
He didn't.
Not even a little.
Three days later, the memory still lived beneath his skin.
The warmth of Mason's hand against his face.
The softness hidden beneath years of carefully constructed walls.
The look in his eyes afterward.
Every detail remained painfully clear.
If anything, Eli regretted only one thing.
How quickly reality had returned.
The festival ended.
The night ended.
And Blackthorn went back to being a small town where everyone noticed everything.
Especially when it came to Mason Voss.
Eli discovered that reality on Monday morning.
The moment he stepped inside the diner.
Conversations paused.
Briefly.
Almost imperceptibly.
Then resumed.
A few people smiled.
Others looked away.
Several exchanged knowing glances.
Nothing obvious.
Nothing dramatic.
Yet enough to make his stomach tighten.
Rumors.
The realization arrived immediately.
Someone had seen them.
Or guessed.
Or simply connected enough pieces together to form a story.
In a larger city, that might not matter.
In Blackthorn, it mattered a great deal.
The thought followed him throughout the day.
By lunchtime, he had convinced himself he was overreacting.
By mid-afternoon, he knew he wasn't.
Several workers behaved differently around him.
Not hostile.
Just aware.
As though they suddenly understood something they hadn't before.
Unfortunately, gossip rarely stayed contained.
Especially where the Bennett family was concerned.
The call arrived shortly after six.
Eli had just returned to his apartment when his phone lit up.
Harold Bennett.
His stomach immediately sank.
The timing alone told him everything.
Harold never called randomly.
Never.
Every conversation served a purpose.
And right now, Eli had a feeling he knew exactly what that purpose was.
He answered anyway.
"Hello."
"Eli."
The tone was enough.
Cold.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
His grandfather wasn't angry.
Not yet.
Anger would have been preferable.
Harold Bennett at his calmest was often at his most intimidating.
"Can you come by the house?"
Not a request.
Never a request.
"When?"
"Now."
The answer left little room for negotiation.
Eli closed his eyes briefly.
Wonderful.
"I'll be there soon."
The line disconnected immediately.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Nothing.
The knot in Eli's stomach tightened.
An hour later, he pulled into the circular driveway of the Bennett estate.
The massive house stood exactly as he remembered.
Impressive.
Expensive.
Cold.
Growing up, people often described the estate as beautiful.
Eli had always found it lonely.
Lights glowed through tall windows.
Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the walkways.
Everything looked immaculate.
Carefully controlled.
Much like Harold himself.
The front door opened before Eli reached it.
A housekeeper greeted him politely and directed him toward the study.
His grandfather's favorite room.
Another bad sign.
The study wasn't where family conversations happened.
It was where business happened.
The distinction mattered.
Eli found Harold standing beside a large window overlooking the property.
The older man wore a dark suit despite being home.
A crystal glass rested on a nearby desk.
Several folders lay neatly arranged beside it.
Everything about the scene felt deliberate.
Strategic.
Like a meeting rather than a conversation.
Harold didn't immediately turn around.
For several seconds, silence filled the room.
Then—
"Sit."
Eli remained standing.
The command irritated him instantly.
"No."
That finally earned a reaction.
Harold turned slowly.
His expression revealed nothing.
Which somehow made things worse.
"You've always been stubborn."
"And you've always been controlling."
The words escaped before Eli could stop them.
A dangerous start.
Neither backed down.
The tension settled immediately.
Heavy.
Familiar.
Years of unresolved conflict hung between them.
Eventually Harold sighed.
A sound suggesting disappointment rather than anger.
"I had hoped this summer would help you mature."
Eli laughed.
The response surprised both of them.
"Mature?"
"Yes."
The older man's gaze hardened.
"Instead, you've become distracted."
There it was.
The real reason for the meeting.
Eli felt his pulse quicken.
"You heard something."
Harold studied him.
The silence confirmed everything.
Rumors had reached him.
Already.
Of course they had.
Small towns excelled at spreading information.
Especially scandalous information.
Finally, Harold spoke.
"I've heard quite a lot."
The words landed like stones.
Eli remained silent.
Partly because he didn't trust himself to speak.
Partly because he wanted to know exactly how much Harold knew.
The older man moved toward his desk.
"You're spending an inappropriate amount of time with one of the brickworks employees."
Mason.
Harold didn't say his name.
He didn't need to.
Every muscle in Eli's body tightened.
"This is about Mason."
Harold's expression revealed immediate disapproval.
The reaction alone made Eli angry.
"He is exactly the sort of distraction I was referring to."
Something hot flared inside his chest.
Protectiveness.
Defensiveness.
Love.
Maybe all three.
"You don't even know him."
"I know enough."
The answer came instantly.
Confidently.
Arrogantly.
Harold sat behind the desk.
A king reclaiming his throne.
"I know his history."
Eli hated those words.
Hated them immediately.
Because people always meant the same thing.
The mistakes.
The failures.
The years Mason had spent trying to survive.
Nobody ever mentioned everything that came afterward.
"He isn't who he was twenty years ago."
Harold's eyes narrowed.
The reaction confirmed what Eli already suspected.
This wasn't about facts.
This was about perception.
Status.
Expectations.
Everything Harold valued.
"He is nearly forty years old."
The statement carried obvious judgment.
"So?"
"He works at a brick kiln."
The judgment sharpened.
"So?"
Harold stared.
Clearly waiting for understanding.
For agreement.
For surrender.
Eli offered none.
The silence stretched.
Eventually the older man leaned back.
A decision settling visibly behind his eyes.
When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of authority.
The weight of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
"You will stop seeing him."
The command hung in the air.
Simple.
Direct.
Absolute.
For a moment, Eli thought he might have misunderstood.
Then reality settled in.
His grandfather was serious.
Completely serious.
The absurdity almost made him laugh.
Instead, he felt anger.
Cold and immediate.
"No."
The answer emerged without hesitation.
Harold's expression darkened.
"Eli."
"No."
The second refusal sounded even firmer.
The older man stood.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The movement felt calculated.
A warning.
The kind Eli recognized from childhood.
"You are young."
The words came carefully.
"As a result, you may not fully understand the consequences of your choices."
"There it is."
"What?"
"The assumption that I'm incapable of making my own decisions."
Harold's jaw tightened.
The conversation was deteriorating rapidly.
Good.
Eli was tired of pretending.
Tired of accepting judgment disguised as concern.
Unfortunately, Harold wasn't finished.
"If you continue down this path, there will be consequences."
The threat settled heavily between them.
Eli stared.
Waiting.
His grandfather met his gaze evenly.
"You rely on this family."
The words struck exactly where intended.
Financial support.
Tuition assistance.
Connections.
Future opportunities.
Everything Harold controlled.
Everything he could take away.
The realization hurt more than Eli expected.
Not because the threat surprised him.
Because it confirmed what he'd feared for years.
The support always came with conditions.
Always.
"You would really do that?"
Harold didn't answer immediately.
Which was answer enough.
When he finally spoke, his voice remained calm.
Almost gentle.
"I am trying to protect you."
The statement made something inside Eli break.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Permanently.
Because protection wasn't supposed to feel like control.
Love wasn't supposed to require obedience.
And family wasn't supposed to disappear the moment expectations weren't met.
The truth stood painfully clear now.
Mason wasn't the real issue.
Independence was.
Choice was.
The simple fact that Eli wanted a life Harold hadn't approved.
"You have a decision to make."
The ultimatum landed with brutal clarity.
Stay away from Mason.
Or lose everything.
Family.
Support.
Security.
The room felt smaller suddenly.
The walls closer.
The air heavier.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Eli looked directly at his grandfather.
At the man who had spent years deciding what his future should look like.
And for the first time in his life, he felt something unexpected.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
Certainty.
Because despite everything Harold threatened to take away, one truth remained unchanged.
He already knew which choice he would make.
The only question was how much it would cost him.
Not Good Enough
Mason knew something was wrong the moment he saw Eli the next morning.
Most people probably wouldn't have noticed.
The younger man still smiled when workers greeted him. He still carried his notebook everywhere. He still asked questions and took photographs and tried to pretend everything was normal.
But Mason noticed.
He noticed the tension in Eli's shoulders.
The shadows beneath his eyes.
The way his smile never quite reached them.
Something had happened.
Something important.
And judging by the storm brewing behind Eli's polite expression, it wasn't good.
Mason spent most of the morning trying not to ask.
Trying not to care.