Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(66)

Autumn froze, clutching my arm.

“So, she’s not good enough for you either?” Connor said.

“You don’t want to hear this,” I said in a low voice and tried to steer Autumn away. She shrugged out of my grasp and stood rooted to the spot.

“It’s not a matter of good enough,” Mr. Drake said. “It’s a matter of your future.”

“I’m twenty-two years old,” Connor spat back. “I have to figure out my entire future right now? Well, okay, great. I know what I want. I don’t want to work for you, Dad. I don’t want a life in politics, Mom. Why are you punishing me for wanting something different?”

“No one is punishing you,” Mrs. Drake said. “We’re preventing you from making a huge mistake.”

“You have not demonstrated responsibility enough to open your own business,” Mr. Drake said. “Using your grandparents’ money to open a sports bar does not, in our minds, constitute a responsible business decision with an eye toward the future.”

“It’s not your money.”

“It’s not yours either and it won’t be if you continue on this vein. You don’t see Wes throwing his future away by pursuing something trivial.”

Autumn’s grip tightened on the sleeve of my shirt.

“Wes has been working his ass off for years to make something of himself,” Mr. Drake said. “Without his wherewithal, I doubt you’d have been accepted into college in the first place, though a liberal arts college seems to be turning your brain to mush. Poetry? I hope your girlfriend isn’t filling your head with hippie-dippy nonsense.”

“At least she understands what I’m trying to do. To create a haven—”

“A haven for drunks? What a prestigious use of the Drake name.”

“I’m not trying to use anything. It’s what I want to do. Why can’t you get that?”

“It’s lazy and irresponsible.”

“Oh, so you need a demonstration of my responsibility,” Connor said.

“Before we summarily hand you six million dollars? I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request.”

“No, God knows you’re nothing if not reasonable.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out. To demonstrate my responsibility.”

A few moments of silence and the front door slammed shut so loudly, I felt it in my chest where my heart was already pounding.





Weston



Autumn stared at me a moment, thoughts whirling behind her eyes. Then she tore through the house, and out the front door. I followed her down the walkway, just as Connor’s Hellcat screeched away. Autumn whipped her phone from her pocket and called him, but let her arm drop a minute later.

“Not answering. Should we be worried? I’m worried.”

“He has a ton of friends in the city,” I said. “He’s probably gone to crash with one of them.”

“Are you sure?”

I started to tell her yes, but the truth popped out instead. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” she said, sitting on the front porch swing, already shivering as the night descended. “What money is he talking about?”

“Connor’s grandparents left him and Jefferson a twelve million dollar trust. Six for each. Their will stated the money was payable upon evidence of their maturity and responsibility. Connor always assumed that meant graduating from college, but apparently his parents have other ideas.”

“Why doesn’t Connor just break free?” Autumn asked. “Take out a loan on his own so he doesn’t have to be under their thumb?”

“Six million is a lot of money to walk away from,” I said, sitting on the other side of the bench. “But more than that, he wants to be treated with the same respect as his brother. Hell, he just wants to be loved because he’s their kid.”

“I had no idea it was this bad.” Autumn pulled out her phone and texted Connor. We waited a few minutes then she shook her head. “No answer.”

Where are you? I sent from my phone.

Nothing.

Where are you, man?

For the first time ever, I didn’t know what he was thinking or where his head was at. And it scared me more than I could admit.





The next morning there was still no sign of Connor. The Drakes, Ma, and Paul were gathered around the immense spread of breakfast food that could have served twenty. Jefferson and Cassandra were out for a walk, unconcerned by this family drama.

Autumn’s hair was a mess and her eyes ringed by shadows. Mrs. Drake didn’t look much better.

“He’s a grown man, Victoria,” Mr. Drake said over his coffee cup. “He’s probably staying with one of his friends. Right, Wes?”

For Mrs. Drake’s sake, I nodded. “That’s my guess.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ma said, her plate piled high with cinnamon buns, eggs, and bacon. “God knows, if I sent out a search party every time this one”—she pointed her fork at me—“got a wild hair up his ass, I probably woulda wound up married to the police chief.”

She laughed. No one else did.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Footsteps stomped through the hall and Connor strode into the kitchen, unshaven and still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He slammed a paper palm down onto the table.