Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
CHANCE
We stay the night at Warren’s house, the three of us smushed in his bed. It was awkward getting settled, but we made it work.
Before we dropped off to sleep, I muttered, “I’ll get us an Alaskan King one day.”
“Big baller,” Thorne chuckled, kissing the top of my head.
“We can buy it together,” Warren said, tucking into me.
Ever since I can remember—besides Jett—people have tried to get close to me for my money or my name. But Thorne and Warren? They want me for me. It’s a feeling I can get used to.
Was Thorne serious when he said that I was his and me and Warren belonged to him?
I want to belong to them. I’ve never belonged to anyone before.
My mom loved me but couldn’t always show it because of my father and him trying to groom me to be a mini him.
My father never loved me, only wanting me to follow in his footsteps. It’ll be nice to be someone’s.
I’m driving back to campus, thinking about our lazy night of watching TV, repainting Thorne’s nails and him telling us about every one of his tattoos, when my phone rings. I groan when I see my father’s number pop up.
I almost decline the call, but I need answers from him.
“Dad,” I say when I answer through my Bluetooth.
“Chance. I’ve been trying to call you for weeks.”
And I’ve been ignoring you for weeks.
I don’t say that, though. Instead, I say, “I’ve been busy. What do you need?”
He lets out an annoyed breath. “I need to know when you’ll be home. I’ve tried to send a courier with forms to sign so I can access your trust, but you haven’t been at your frat house. Where have you been?”
“Dad,” I say in a tired voice. “I’m not giving you access to my money. How did you even get my account information? Grandpa says he didn’t tell you.”
“You went behind my back to call my father?” I can practically feel the steam shooting out of his ears.
“How, Dad?” I demand.
“Fine. If you must know, you received a statement here after the deposit. Since the mail came to my house, I opened it. You’re twenty-one years old, Chance. You don’t know what to do with all that money.”
“I’m twenty-two, Dad.”
“What?” He sounds distracted, as if anything I say is of no importance.
“I’m twenty-two,” I repeat. “My birthday was the day I returned to campus, remember?”
“Yes, yes,” he says in a bored tone. “The fact remains that you need someone to oversee that amount of money. I’ll move it to my account and give you a monthly allowance until you’re responsible enough to handle it.”
“No,” I say, pulling into the driveway of the frat house. “I’m not signing anything from your courier.”
He’s quiet for a few beats, then he says, “Chance, I’m trying to do what’s best for you. Now sign the papers and we’ll be done with this whole mess.” Before I can respond, he hangs up.
I make a promise to myself to open another account and transfer my money today. I have class in an hour, but I refuse to let another moment go by with my father this close to the money that was given to me.
First I need to change clothes. I showered this morning but have on the same outfit I wore yesterday.
I hurry into the frat house, wanting to get my shit and go before anyone notices I’m here.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been spending less and less time here and more time with Thorne and Warren. For the past three years living here, I’ve felt lonely, even with so many people around. Now, my heart is full, being around my guys who actually appreciate me for more than my family name.
My foot is on the bottom step when Priest comes out of the den, his nose taped and his hand on his hips. “We called a meeting. You’re needed.”
“I have to—”
“Now, Chance,” he says and turns on his heels.
Rolling my eyes at his dramatics, I follow him, wanting to get this shit over with.
I usually sit in the back of the den while they discuss whatever bullshit they have going on, like what kind of beer will be at the next party or if they’re going to take the Delta house or Zeta house to homecoming that year.
I’m not so pleasantly surprised when I step in and see a chair at the front of the room and everyone looking at me.
“Take a seat,” Priest says.
Narrowing my eyes at everyone assembled, I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll stand. What’s this about?”
The president of the frat, Jack, stands, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dockers. “You’ve started hanging out with Thorne Zilman this year.”
“So?”
He looks around, that smug expression he always wears prominent on his face. Now that I think about it, everyone here wears the same expression, like they’re better than everyone around them.
“So,” he says, turning toward the room at large, “we all think it’s best if you didn’t. For the good of the frat.”
“The good of the frat,” I repeat, scoffing. “What good has the frat done for me?”
“We’re a brotherhood,” Jack says. “We’re your brothers. And if your brother has a problem with someone you’re hanging with, then you drop them.”
“Absolutely not.” I scoff again. “This isn’t a brotherhood. You’re not my brothers.”
“You swore an oath. When you—”
“Fuck the oath!” I explode. “Fuck the oath and fuck all of you. You don’t care about me.
Hell, I don’t even think you care about each other.
For the past three years, I’ve called each and every one of you for your birthdays, for big events, for fucking everything!
I’ve done that. You wanna know what I got in return?
Fucking nothing!” No one says anything as they stare at me.
“Ari,” I say, calling him out first. “When you broke your arm last year, who was the one that helped you out, helping you get dressed and grabbing your homework after surgery?” He looks shocked, like he didn’t expect me to call him out. I like Ari, but he’s been a piss-poor friend.
Next, I turn to our treasurer, Hudson. “And you. When your mother passed away last year, who was it that called to check up on you and sent flowers to the service?”
“That’s what brothers do,” he sneers.
“And what have any of you motherfuckers done for me? If that’s what brothers do, when have you been there for me when I needed it? When’s my fucking birthday?” No one speaks.
One by one, I point to every one of them, reciting their birthdays. By the time I’m done, most of them look ashamed.
“You’re not my brothers,” I say again, feeling defeated.
“If this is what it’s like to have siblings, I don’t want them.
I’m fucking done. Take this fucking frat and shove it up your ass.
” I take a few steps, then turn around, meeting bewildered eyes.
“And I’m not just ‘hanging out’ with Thorne.
” I air quote the words. “He’s my boyfriend.
” Kinda wish I could tell them about both my boyfriends, but they’re shocked enough as it is.
With that, I head upstairs and start to pack. A weight lifts from my shoulders as I shove clothes into my gym bags. I’ll have to come back and pack the rest when I have better suitcases, but that’s something I’ll worry about another day. For right now, I just want to leave this fucking place.
I’ll get a hotel room for a few days while I look for somewhere permanent to stay. I probably won’t find anything quickly, since it’s mid-semester, but if it comes down to it, I’ll buy a fucking house before I sleep another night under this roof.
Before I head out, I change into different clothes, stuffing the discarded ones in my hamper. I’ll come back for my laundry later.
As I head down the stairs, a few of my frat brothers try to talk me out of leaving, but I ignore them. They only feel guilty now because I called them out, but no one felt guilty when they were taking advantage of my generosity.
Priest is standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes betray the hard set to his mouth, regret reflected back at me. “You’re letting him come between us,” he says.
“No,” I sigh, hiking my bag higher on my shoulder. “You being a shitty friend came between us.”
“What about the team?”
“Me not living here won’t jeopardize the swim team.
I’ll show up. Maybe you should do the same instead of doing the bare minimum.
” I start to leave but before I do, I turn to him and say, “If you treat Jett like shit again, I’ll be the one to break your fucking nose.
” His eyes widen as I stare him down for a moment.
I wait until he dips his chin, then I leave, tossing my bags into the trunk of my car.
I rest my head on the headrest for a moment, blowing out a long breath. It sucks that I had to leave, but it’s whatever. I’ll be fine without them. I’ve pretty much been doing shit on my own anyway. They won’t be missed.
Starting my car, I head to the local bank, needing to get a new account.
The process takes forever, with them asking all kinds of questions and requiring documentation I have to remember if I even have.
By the time I’m finished, I have a pounding headache, and my hair is all over the place from how many times I ran my fingers through it, but it’s done. I have a new account, one that will have my statements forwarded to my campus mailbox until I get one of my own.
Since the transaction is so large, I won’t have access to my funds for seventy-two hours, but it’s all good. I have my credit cards to reserve a room for a few days.
“Chance,” an easy voice says behind me. Turning around, I see Knox, Thorne’s brother.
“Hey man.” I smile and shake his hand. “What are you doing here?”
He holds up a zipped bag. “Deposits from the shop.”
“So it’s doing well? Your tattoo parlor?”
“Yep. You frat boys love getting tattoos when you’re too shitfaced to remember.”
My smile drops as I rub at the back of my neck.
“Well, I’m not a frat boy anymore. I just left.
Kinda homeless now.” I chuckle, though my cheeks flame with embarrassment.
Why did I just tell him that? I’ve only talked to him once and I’m already telling him my business.
But he has this aura about him. It makes me feel at ease. It’s weird.
Knox ticks up an eyebrow. “Have you told Thorne and Warren?”
I shake my head, my heart skipping a beat that he knows about Warren. But he’s not a student, and he’s Thorne’s brother, so I know he won’t spill our secret.
It’s the kind of brotherhood I wanted with the frat. To belong to a group of men that I could share anything with. But they’re all out for themselves and clout, something that doesn’t sit right with me.
I just wish it hadn’t taken me almost four years to realize that.
“Nah,” I say, pushing my hair back from flopping in my face. “I don’t want to burden them.”
He eyes me intensely. “You should tell them. I don’t know about Warren, but Thorne likes taking care of people. And he’ll be pissed if he finds out you have nowhere to go and didn’t tell him about it.”
“I was going to get a hotel,” I say weakly.
“You know he has room at his place, right?”
I give him a sardonic look. “He barely has room for himself.”
Knox laughs, the sound deep and rich. “Yeah, but he wouldn’t want you in a hotel when he can take care of you. I know him.” He narrows his eyes, but not in a mean way. More so as if he’s trying to read me. “You love them, don’t you?”
“Huh? Love? Uh…”
How did he call me out with such little effort? Are my feelings etched on my face or something?
My insides squirm as I think about the depth of my feelings. Warren and Thorne have wormed their way into my heart and I wouldn’t dream of shaking them. But I can’t tell them. Not yet.
He pats my shoulder gently. “Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Just…call Thorne. Call Warren. Talk to them about your situation and let them help. You don’t have to be alone.”
His words ring in my head as I drive back to campus. I can’t think about love right now. Not when my life just practically crumbled around me.
But I can ask for help.
When I park, I pull out my phone and open our text thread.
Me: I need to talk to you two. When are you free?
Warren answers immediately.
Warren: I have a free block. Want to come to my office?
Thorne answers about a minute later.
Thorne: I’m in class, but I can leave. Do you need me?
Do I need him? Yeah, I do. I need both of them. Now.
Me: Yeah. I’m coming to your office, Warren. Thorne, meet me there?
Thorne: On my way.