Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(72)

I want to say that I don’t need any friends, but I don’t want to lie. I hate being alone.

Hell, I also hate having friends.

Like I said, I’m cursed.

She sniffs. “Lo told me something like that.”

Of course he did. “What’d he say?”

“That I have to let you get used to the long-distance. That I can’t do anything to make you feel better.”

Loren Hale. Jesus. I wonder if he even knows how much he gets me. Like he’s taken a road trip in my head and come out the other side. I don’t understand it.

“He’s right,” I say. “You sacrificing shit for me isn’t going to make me happy or feel better.”

“Then what will make you happy?”

I don’t know.

I should have a better answer to that question. But there’s one thing I know. She can’t suppress her happiness because she feels guilty. I can’t be poison in her life.

And then I hear her brother’s worry in my head. I don’t know what you’ll fucking do. Lo and Ryke thought I’d break up with her. Now I understand why.

But I won’t.

I won’t.

I still believe we’re good for one another, even a continent away. She is the thing that makes me happy. But it’s on me—because I need to find something else that can push me through a day. Not someone. Something.

I desperately need something to get me through the next three-and-a-half years.





23 PRESENT DAY – December


Philadelphia, Pennsylvania





GARRISON ABBEY

Age 21





What the fuck was I thinking?

I must be out of my mind. Watching Willow leave to board a plane and fly back to London must have really fucked with my head.

Because there’s no other explanation as to why I accepted the invitation to return home.

It’s the weekend before New Years, and I should have hung up when I heard my mom’s voice, but instead, I listened to her pleas, begging me to just come home.

For a second. For a minute. To spend time with family. The family that I keep distancing myself from like the miscreant troublemaker that I am.

So I went home.

And during a ham dinner, I’ve been listening to stories about Mitchell’s grad school. How Hunter is coaching lacrosse at Penn, and Davis has put his MBA to use, snagging a six-figure promotion at our father’s loaded tech company.

“Garrison.” Dad diverts the attention to me. He scoops the last portion of potatoes onto his plate. “How’s Cobalt Inc. going?”

Davis wears a look of surprise. “You haven’t quit yet?”

“Nope.” I bite back a harsher retort.

Hunter laughs. “They haven’t fired you?”

“Nope.” But no one is more surprised about that than me.

“Connor Cobalt wouldn’t fire him,” Davis adds. “Not as long as he’s dating Willow Hale, right?” He nods to me. “Keep that on lock, man.”

I’m not dating Willow for my job. My skin crawls even letting that thought cross my mind. Sitting here turns my stomach. I stab at a piece of ham on my plate, not planning to force the thing down.

Our mom stands. “Garrison, stop playing with your food.” She waits for me to set my fork down and hand her the plate, so she can clear the table. She doesn’t always do the dishes. Most of the time we have staff wash them.

Did I mention my family is rich? Yeah, I think I did.

My brows scrunch at my mom. “It’s already dead,” I say dryly.

She sighs out like I’m being unreasonably difficult. “Please, Garrison.”

I’m about to do as told, but Hunter kicks my shins from underneath the table. Hard. I drop my fork, the utensil clattering on the lip of the plate.

Fuck.

Dull plain plumes, and Hunter gives me a harsh look like don’t be a shit.

My jaw clenches, my pulse starting to race.

Mom places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine, sweetheart.” Yeah, she knows my brother kicked me, but all she does is smile at Hunter with the shake of her head.

Boys will be boys, she used to tell me as a kid, blowing on my cut kneecaps after being shoved in asphalt. You have to pick yourself up and fight back.

Right.

She collects the dirty plates around the table. Including mine.

Hunter narrows his assholish eyes on me. He jerks his head from me to our mom like, help her.

I glare.

He has two feet.

I haven’t stepped into this house for months. They’re lucky I’m here right now.

“Garrison,” Davis snaps out loud. “Help Mom.”

Our mom waves me off. “No, you boys go relax and catch up. It’s been so long since you’ve all seen each other.”

Shit.

My heart rate ratchets up. “I’m actually going to head out,” I say. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Our dad makes a noise of disapproval. “Connor Cobalt surely isn’t making you work during the holiday.” True—I do have off—but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to take it. I still planned to go into the office. Because I love my job.

Because it’s keeping me going.