Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
CHANCE
Warren overwhelms me in the best possible way as I step out of the airport and he races over to me, wrapping his arms tight around my waist. I tuck my face in his hair, breathing in his fresh scent. He has me in a death grip but is careful of my shoulder.
I haven’t seen him in close to two weeks.
After my father died, I had to stick around and got questioned by the cops. Losing two parents in the span of a few weeks looked suspicious as fuck. But whatever they found in the limited investigation proved that I had nothing to do with it.
Grandpa and I held a funeral for my father, but after news broke about what was found in his home—the records of sales for women, emails to Felicity’s father and one of their business partners about the large transaction of people and hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash from his illegal sales— only me and my grandfather were in attendance.
The only reason Grandpa even showed up is because he wanted to make sure my father was really dead.
Not going to lie, it was hard seeing my father’s corpse in his office. I’d seen Professor Cooke’s body, but I had no attachment to her. Knowing that my father, the man that was supposed to guide me and be a role model, was dead because of his evil deeds was a gut punch.
I don’t blame Thorne—hell, I called him to take my father out.
I told him the night after the body was found that he did what needed to be done to make the world a better place.
I don’t think he believed me, probably worried that I’d grow to resent him for what he did.
That’s the furthest thing from the truth.
After kissing the top of Warren’s head one more time, I pull back so I can look at him. His green eyes dance with happiness and a smile pulls up his lips. Those beautiful freckles are dotted with a blush.
“Hey, baby,” I whisper, then plant a soft kiss on his lips.
“I missed you,” he says before kissing me again.
We probably shouldn’t be kissing so openly, since he’s technically still my professor, but neither of us gives a fuck about that. We’re just grateful to see each other.
My shoulder starts to hurt, since I slung my bag over it and I squirm.
Warren gives me a reproachful look and takes it from me. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“Yes. Before my dad died, he had his private physician check me out. After the murder, he came over one more time before he said he wanted nothing to do with my family.”
Which is fair. No one believes that I’m involved in or knew anything about dad’s business—he was so thorough with his notes and emails that he stated numerous times that he couldn’t tell me until after I won a gold medal, so I didn’t ruin my chances at going for the title.
But people knowing this doctor was treating Charles Spencer’s son would have probably lost him a bunch of high-paying clients.
Warren eyes me but doesn’t comment.
Thorne is leaning against his car, a rare wide smile on his face. “You look good, Golden.”
My cheeks flame, but I brush him off. “I’m fucking tired.” Leaning in so only Warren and Thorne can hear, I ask, “Do you know how creepy it is to sleep in a house where not one, but both of your parents have died?” I shiver dramatically, making Warren chuckle.
The night my father was found, I slept at home, telling myself I’d be fine and nothing about the dead could scare me. But the thought of their lives ending where I slept was enough to have me wide awake for hours. It didn’t hit me until much later that I could just fucking leave.
Warren knows Thorne killed my dad. After it was all over, we called him and filled him in on everything that happened.
He was unbelievably sad when I told him who my father really was and wished he could have been there for me.
But I’m home now, where I can let my guys spoon me and make me into a blanket burrito if I need them to.
Pushing off the car, Thorne gives me a soft kiss. “We’ll put you to bed, then.”
“I want to show you something first,” I say, but it’s cut off when I crack a wide yawn.
“It can wait until you wake up.” Warren pushes me into the car, shoving in beside me so he can rest his head on my chest.
Sighing, I wrap my arm around him and rest my head against the seat.
Not only was the image of my father’s dead body plastered to the back of my eyelids every time I tried to doze off when I was back at home, I kept getting calls from lawyers, shareholders, and other people involved in my father’s company, asking what I planned to do now that he was dead.
When I thought I’d have some peace, my phone would ring.
My grandfather told me to stop answering until I figured it out myself.
There were only so many ways I could say, “I’m not sure, let me grieve,” before the words lost all meaning.
My mother’s will was read the day after she was found dead and all assets were transferred to me.
It wasn’t much—a small trust she got from her parents that she hadn’t touched in over twenty years, a collection of artwork from her travels abroad and the contents of her safety deposit box.
I almost broke down when the contents were all of my medals and ribbons from every meet and dozens of photos of the two of us together.
Things that meant the most to her.
I didn’t stick around for the reading of my father’s will. I used the excuse that I needed to get back to school for my final exams and asked my grandfather to sit in in my place and relay anything I needed to know.
“You okay?” Warren whispers as Thorne pulls out of the airport.
“No,” I answer honestly, “but I will be, now that I’m home with you and Thorne.”
I nap in the car, thankful I don’t have any dreams about how my mother looked in her casket or my father’s body with blood around his head, chunks of his brain scattered across the floor and wall. In fact, I didn’t dream about anything.
Hopefully, that trend continues so I can get some rest.
When we step inside Thorne’s apartment, excitement fills my veins as I see the black bag I left out still resting behind the couch. I had planned to take them somewhere after we cleaned up after our love making, but my life was turned upside down. Now, I can do what I planned all those weeks ago.
But first, Warren and Thorne put me in the tub, washing me gently as they fill me in on their time without me.
My heart hurts that they spent most of the time worried about me—besides the few days Thorne stayed with me after he killed my dad until I sent him back home to Warren—instead of enjoying each other.
I understand though. If I were in their positions, I would have been worried sick about either one of them.
After my bath and Warren checking my incision site and helping me into my sling, Thorne shoos us to the table, making us lunch.
While I’m antsy to get going, one thing is on my mind. “What happened with Professor Cooke?”
She was still supposed to be out of town when I got the news about my mother, and I didn’t ask while I was deep in my grief.
Warren frowns while Thorne says, “She was found in her home. The victim of homicide. The killer hasn’t been caught yet. But they found evidence that she was the one stalking Warren.”
Nodding, Warren says, “It’s been awful, but I wasn’t looked at as a suspect since I was supposed to be teaching when she was killed.
They asked why I didn’t file the report like I told Mike, who they also interviewed, but I told them I wanted to gather more evidence, so I’d have a stronger case for a possible restraining order. ”
He doesn’t look happy about any of this, but it was either him or her. I’m glad it wasn’t him.
Thorne slides piping-hot baked spaghetti in front of me and I smile so hard, tears form in my eyes.
The first time he cooked for us, I told Thorne I didn’t know spaghetti could be baked and afterward, told him it was my new favorite meal.
It’s the little ways they take care of me that make my heart sing.
My eyes keep flicking over to the bag as I eat and listen to Thorne and Warren talk. Every now and then, I’ll say a few words, but I’m ready for dinner to be over so we can go.
“Alright,” Warren says, setting down his fork and crossing his arms over his chest. “You have to talk to us. You’ve been quiet and closed off since you got back. I know shit is hard because of your losses, but we can’t help if you don’t talk to us.”
“Huh?” I ask, my fork halfway to my mouth. “What do you mean?”
In a soft, gentle tone, Warren says, “You aren’t really present right now. Something is on your mind. Is it because of what your father did to your mother?”
My stomach plummets and I set my fork down as well. Thorne told me he asked my dad if he killed my mom and he denied it initially, blaming it on her drinking, but finally admitted she was getting too close to discovering his secret.
It sucks that he took her away from me, but my dad can’t hurt anyone else. I hope he’s burning in hell.
Shaking my head to push those thoughts away, I say, “No. I mean, yeah, it’s fucked up but that’s not what’s on my mind. It’s…I want to show you two something.”
Thorne raises a pierced eyebrow. “What is it?”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin, trying to give myself some time to find my words. I could tell them what I want them to see, or I could show them.
Meeting both of their eyes, I ask, “Trust me?”
“Of course,” Warren says.
“You know I do,” Thorne replies.
Smiling, I stand and grab for their plates. “Let me clean up these dishes, then I want to show you something.”
“I can do the dishes,” Warren says, taking the haphazardly stacked plates. “Go get whatever you need and then we can head out.”
Thorne and I hurry to the room to put on pants—we only wore underwear after our bath—and I struggle to get my shoes on. He offers to help, but I want to learn to do things on my own. If he and Warren weren’t around, I’d be fucked.
By the time we’re dressed, Warren is finished with the dishes. I hurry over to the black bag, pull out the small envelope, and stuff it into my pocket.
I haven’t been cleared to drive yet, so I give Thorne the address, my heart hammering in my chest. Thankfully, he doesn’t recognize the area but gives me a skeptical look when he sees that it’s about twenty-five minutes to the north. Not much there but old money.
We ride in silence, Warren looking out the window.
Before we pull onto the street I indicated, he says, “I didn’t know this place existed.”
“Me either,” I say. Not until the realtor told me.
I keep that comment to myself.
Thorne whistles when he pulls into the driveway. “Fuck, this place is nice. Who lives here?”
I don’t answer as we get out of the car.
It’s a mini mansion; two stories stretched across a few acres of land. The driveway is long and circular, a fountain in the middle. Its blue shutters match the door, the color popping against the plain brick.
Warren grabs my hand, looking around. “Are we allowed to be here?”
“Yeah.” My voice is shaky as fuck with just that one word.
What am I afraid of? I know they won’t leave me for this.
They’ll probably be pissed that I didn’t discuss with them or even ask but fuck it.
I have all this money that I’ll probably never spend.
Thorne and Warren aren’t with me because of my wealth and would have likely told me not to go through with it had I asked.
Letting Warren’s hand go, I reach into my pocket and grab the tiny envelope. I turn Warren’s hand over and dump a key into his outstretched palm. “Open it,” I say, inclining my head to the door.
“What did you do, Golden?” Thorne asks when Warren pushes inside, following closely behind him.
“I bought us a house.”
Warren whirls around, looking at me with wide eyes. “You bought…us a house?”
Swallowing roughly, I nod. “Yeah.” I want to take both their hands and lead them further inside, but this damn sling stops me.
Instead, I step around Warren and walk past the foyer to the living room on the right.
“It’s a seven bed, nine-and-a-half-bath house.
Two hallway bathrooms and a half bath in the theater room.
Each bedroom has an en suite.” I answer Warren’s unasked question.
“When Emma comes to visit, there will be a guest suite for her.” Looking at Thorne, I say, “There’s room for Bensotti, too.
He can move in. If he wants, he can have a room upstairs near ours or he can have one on the bottom floor. ”
“What?” Thorne asks on a breath.
“You said he’s retiring soon and then he’d be free to move.
” Warren and I asked about Bensotti’s health and his circumstances after we met him and Thorne filled us in.
We’ve been asking for updates every time Thorne calls him.
“If he moves in, you won’t have to worry about him being out there on his own.
I might be jumping the gun here, but I found a cancer center about half an hour away that takes private and state insurance.
I’ll pay for his treatment until he’s in remission. ”
Thorne swallows repeatedly, his eyes shiny. “You’d do that for him?”
Smiling, I nod and walk over to him. “Of course. He means a lot to you, so he means a lot to me.” I look between him and Warren.
“I know it’s a lot and I know I should have said something, but I didn’t want you to tell me to save my money or something like that.
It might be too fast, but I want to be with you two every day. ”
Warren narrows his eyes, then he gasps. “That’s why you were being all secretive with your phone before you left?”
I smile slowly and nod. “I was talking with the realtor. There was some issue with me paying for this in cash since I don’t have a job. I had to have my grandfather vouch for me, as well as showing my bank statements. But it’s mine.” I kiss each of them in turn. “Or, it’s ours.”
A stunned expression is etched across Thorne’s face as he looks around at the large house I hope he’ll move into with me. “Golden. You did this for us?”
“Yeah. Now that Professor Cooke died in Warren’s house,” I flick my gaze to his quickly before I continue, “we all need somewhere to start fresh. Why not start together? Say yes? Say you’ll move in with me.” When they’re both silent, looking at me as if I’m an alien, my stomach churns.
Then Warren burst a wide grin and rushes over to me, holding me tight. “Of course we will. You silly rich boy.”
I blow out a relieved breath, holding on to him as tears brim my eyes.
Thorne moves slowly, though he still looks as if he can’t believe I’d go through all of this for him. Like he’s not worth it.
He takes me in his arms, his lips trembling as he kisses me. “Yeah, Golden, we’ll move in. You’re stuck with us now.”
I flash him a grin as a single tear trails down my cheek. “Like that’s a bad thing.”