Hostile(70)



How I can’t force myself into the box created by my father, no matter how badly I want to do good things with my grandfather’s company. I’ll just have to find another way.

Because I want Rhett.

But now’s not the time to tell him. Now, all I can do is be here for him. The night drags on, and neither of us really sleep. We don’t talk either, though, because there’s nothing else to say right now. It’s bullshit that assholes like the man who beat Max up exist. That they can hurt kids and get away with it for too long before someone finally intervenes.

The next day, Max is well enough to go home, and the doctors release him into Blair’s care. He’s dazed and clearly tired, but he goes with Ian and her back to her house. Rhett goes with them to get them settled, saying a quick thank you and goodbye to me. But I’m not done with him.

I say goodbye, but I know it’s not permanent. Not this time.

I go to my parent’s house, where it’s quiet after the party they threw yesterday for Thanksgiving. The house is pristine, which means the housekeepers have diligently done their job, as always.

I’m looking for my father but see no sign of him. He’s probably flown off somewhere already, unable to stand family life for too long. I do find my mother, passed out with a satin eye mask on her face and wine glass next to her on the couch.

“Mom.”

She stirs but doesn’t wake.

I need to do this before I lose my nerve. I need to tell someone. “Mom,” I say again, louder this time.”

She sits up from her slouched position on the couch, removing the eye mask and glaring at me. “What?”

Yeah, I’ve always been an inconvenience to this woman, but I assume she’ll be the easier of the two to break the news to, so I just go for it. “I’m gay.”

Her nose crinkles in instant disgust as she sits up straighter and blinks at me. “What did you just say?”

I stand firm. For Rhett but also for me. Because I can’t hide this anymore like some sort of disgusting secret. It’s not. What I feel for Rhett is beautiful. “I’m gay,” I repeat.

She scoffs, annoyed as she looks over at the empty wine glass, clearly disappointed there’s none left. “No. You’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” I can’t believe she’s being like this. I mean, I can, but I can’t. I thought she’d be the easy one. Which I guess speaks volumes about how difficult it will be with my father, but I don’t care.

“You’re not. And even if you were . . .” She stands, and her eyes—that everyone has told me my whole life are exactly like mine—bore into me. “You’ll change that. It’s unacceptable.”

“It’s not something I can or even want to change. I’m in love.” It feels good to say it out loud, despite her sour face.

She snorts. “Love. Please. This is ridiculous. Stop saying these things.”

I lean in. “I’m gay, and I’m in love, and I don’t give a fuck what you think about it. I’m quitting school and moving back here to be with him.”

Her eyes are shooting daggers in my direction, but I don’t back down. “No. You aren’t. You’ll lose everything, you know that. He’ll never give the company over to a . . .” She waves her hand in the air, looking for the appropriate hateful word, I’m sure.

“I don’t care.”

“No?” She might actually be evil. “You don’t care about your grandfather’s company? I know you do, Grayson.”

Of course, she’d try to use that against me. “I don’t care. I’ll build something else.”

She scoffs derisively, “With what? You have nothing without us, and you’ve been nothing but a disappointment.”

“How can you say that to me?” She’s baiting me, and it worked. My voice rises. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve been your goddamn puppet, and even then, you didn’t care. Ever. You couldn’t be fucking bothered to care. I’m done.” And I am. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t please you, even though I did everything according to your plan.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Grayson.”

“I’m telling dad face-to-face, and then I’m done with both of you. I don’t care anymore. I can’t live my life like this for one more second.”

“It’s a phase.” She steps closer to me. “And you will not tell your father. He’ll blame me.”

“Are you kidding me?” I have to step back, away from her. My hands are shaking with rage, and I fight angry tears. “This is not about you. This is me. I’m gay, and I have a chance to be happy. Really happy. And I know, deep down, that grandpa would want that for me. But even if he wouldn’t, I don’t care. I’m not living my life for anyone else anymore.”

I storm from the house and out to my car, driving to the only place I want to be. I’m relieved when I see Rhett’s car in the drive and rush up the stairs, pounding on his door.

Rhett answers in a pair of dark-gray sweats and nothing else, looking confused with his hair mussed. I guess he was sleeping, but I don’t feel bad about waking him because this can’t wait. I fall into his arms, nearly knocking him over. “I can’t do this anymore. I hate her. I hate them.”

Nicole Dykes's Books