2. RYAN #4
“You did this,” I tell him. “You drove him to this. Why couldn’t you just let him go to Shadowridge? I fully plan on being your perfect little heir, okay? No need to use him to keep me in line any further than what you have.”
“But I do. You still think you have any say at all. You don’t. You do what I tell you to, even if you don’t like it.”
“Understood, sir.” I need ice for my jaw, or it’s going to swell.
“If it wasn’t for the fucking archaic rules of society, I would choose Rosaline as my heir, and I wouldn’t need either of you,” he reminds me.
It’s kind of comical, and I have to fight not to smile.
The same rules he bows to within the fucked up elitist society we live by are rules he despises.
None of the families he’s connected to would do business with a woman, not even Rosaline Savage, who would chew them up and spit them out, even at eighteen years old.
But maybe that’s why. They can’t handle being taken down by a woman.
But while he holds Rosaline in the highest regard, I don’t think he means what he says about me.
He’d like to be larger than the beliefs he was raised with, which is something, I guess, but he’s not.
He’s too conditioned not to want his firstborn son to carry on the family name.
Plus, Father doesn’t invest his time in losing assets.
I might not be who he wants me to be, but he knows I’m smart and talented. Someone who can persuade people.
I’m a guaranteed asset.
So long as I behave.
Griffon is part of how he makes me behave. It’s the only reason he cares about Griffon going to North Point.
The door opens again. Rosaline. Still wearing the petal-pink sweatpants and sweatshirt she was in earlier. Her caramel hair is pulled into a messy bun. She’s wearing her favorite pair of UGGs.
“Oh, Daddy, you’re here!” She hugs him with one arm, and in the other, she has a bag with yellow tissue sprouting from the top.
“Thanks for coming, sweetheart,” he says. He gives her an adoring smile. Why could he never give me one of those? I fucking hate that I even want one.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asks.
“I talked to the doctors, they’ve assured me he’s getting the best care,” he tells her as if he knows dick all. I don’t doubt he spoke to the medical staff before coming in here, but he’s acting like he gives a shit.
But what do I do? Ruin the illusion for Rosaline? I doubt she’d believe me if I tried. But more than that, she gets to have the kind of father I wish I had. At least one of us should have that version of father. She’s safe with him, but I have to get Griffon out.
With no money and no pull to fight against Father’s army of connections, it feels like a fucking impossible task.
And this is just another fucking victory for him.
There’s no way I could let Griffon go to Shadowridge, or any other school where I’m not after this. I want him in my sight at all times.
In light of these events, North Point might be the safest place for him, surrounded by my hockey brothers who can help me watch him. Griffon’s going to hate it, but too fucking bad. He wants to try to exit early? He’s gonna have to put up with a little extra babysitting.
“What did you bring him?” I ask Rosaline, knowing she’ll be dying to tell someone.
“I thought you’d never ask. It’s a stuffed bunny in his favorite shade of yellow.”
Isit by his bedside all night. The staff only puts up a minor fuss to get rid of me after hours, but the sedation is supposed to wear off soon, and I want to be here when he wakes up.
He does, groggy at first, eyelids fluttering.
“Griff. Fucking hell, Griff.” I don’t know what you’re supposed to say to your brother who just tried to kill himself. That probably wasn’t it. I swallow, staving off the tears that wanna come.
Griffon stares, and I hold my breath. If he’s pissed at me for saving him, he can fuck off with that. He’d do the same for me, and he knows it.
And then he looks away.
“It’s okay, Griff,” I say, even though it wasn’t okay. But what I’m actually saying is that no one’s going to hold it against him. Except for our father, which is nothing new.
He’s calm in the way people get when they’ve given up arguing with the world. Something desperate claws at my insides, something that says if I lose him now, if I don’t drag him away from the inner demons he’s wrestling with, there will be a next time, and I might not be so lucky.
“Look, Rosie brought you a bunny.” I pull the soft plush out of the bag. He plays with the ear, and I catch the corners of his lips twitching, like he wants to smile, but then his eyes fall to his bandaged wrists. He pushes the stuffie away.
It comes as a choking sound at first. Then chest heaves. Then a sob so low and broken, my insides shatter.
“Griff.”
I’m up and on the bed, circling my arms around him. He hangs onto me like I’m his only lifeline, squeezing the fucking shit out of me. Griff’s tears soak my shirt. I rock him. A hoarse, strangled, ugly cry rips from his lungs. His body shudders. I hold him through it all.
Demons hunt us both, but the difference is, I’ve been hardened enough to survive them. Griff hasn’t. I don’t ever want him to be. He shouldn’t have to shut everything out like I do.
“I’m getting you away from here, Griff,” I murmur. “So fucking far away from here.”