She shrugs. “Keep trying, Aldridge,” she jokes.
My phone rings. I pray to God that it’s not an emergency because I don’t have time to entertain nonsense. It’s my time off with Grace. Everyone knows not to call on Sundays when I’m at home.
“It says Hayes.” G shows me my phone.
“Great. Asshole number two is calling.” I sigh.
“Answer.”
“No,” I say. “Just ignore it. I don’t care if he needs me to go to New York. For all I care, our father can die, go to hell, and I won’t be bothered.”
“He’s your brother. You should answer.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Good idea,” she says and slides her finger across the screen. “Beacon’s phone, how can I help you?”
That snarky tone and the grin while she’s answering are a turn on. I should be upset that she can’t let things be, but how can I when she’s so fucking adorable—and challenging.
“Is he available?” I can hear his voice from where I stand.
I shake my head. Hang up the phone, I mouth.
“It depends.” She twirls a lock of her hair, which surprisingly is dark brown today—her natural hair color. “Why are you calling, asshole number two?”
There’s a chuckle on the other side of the line. “Is that how my name comes up on the caller ID? He catalogues us as assholes, just like Mills calls us Fuckers.”
She responds, “No,” but she nods.
Because actually, yes. I categorize my brothers by the severity of their assholiness, which coincidentally matches their birth placement from oldest to youngest. No one is a super asshole like Henry. He is his own kind of fucked-up dickhead.
“It reads Hayes. However, when your name flashed, he just said, ‘Fuck. First, a lawyer calls about my father, and now it’s asshole number two,” she explains further. Only G can make up that shit on the go.
She doesn’t need me to have a conversation with my brothers. Grace knows how I feel about each one of them. If she could just not try to make a low male voice, we’d be cool. Her raspy voice makes me hot.
You’d think she’s on my side, but nope. She knows the reason he’s calling, and she’s fucking logical. “I answered because I guess things are not going well with his dad, and he can only ignore him for so long.”
“I can ignore him forever.” I sigh and warn her, “Leave it alone, G.”
“He’s sick, and you have to at least say goodbye. It’ll be good for your soul,” she claims.
Leave it to her to try to find a good excuse to make me give a shit. She has a badass family. If anything happens to one of them, we’re all there to offer support. I mean we because they’ve welcomed me as part of their family since I was a kid.
“I’m soulless, so it doesn’t matter,” I argue while she groans in response.
Baby, not everyone has a set of terrific parents like you.
I frown when she says, “Beacon’s Jiminy Cricket.”
Then smirk at her because she is like my conscience. The one who grounds me. The person who makes me be a better version of whatever the fuck I’m supposed to be.
“Just less green, sassier, and cuter,” I correct and wink at her.
I extend my hand and wiggle my fingers, asking nicely for the phone. “Hang up, G.”
She turns around, ignoring me. I hope she knows what she just got herself into. I’m getting that phone, and she’s going to beg for mercy.
“What is it that you need to tell him? I’ll convey the message.”
“Fine.” She sighs loudly and makes an entire production of tapping the phone. “Speak.”
“Beacon, our father died yesterday morning.”
The entire room dims. I swear my heart stops beating. Grace rushes to hug me. I lean on her. Ever since Thursday, after the fucking lawyer called, I’ve been pretending that I don’t give a fuck. He didn’t care. Why should I?
But I do care. No one deserves to die alone—not even him. I spent the flight from London to New York wondering if I should stop by his house. I did. I sneaked into the penthouse without anyone noticing. I saw him lying on a hospital bed, unresponsive.
“I pray I don’t end up like you,” I said, kissing his forehead, and I left.
Only Seth knows about it. I haven’t mentioned it to Grace. She’s been by my side ever since I went to pick her up at her parents’ house.
Well, I guess there won’t be a family reunion to celebrate the miracle that the old man got better. I should just let everyone go. I don’t need the fucking hassle of dealing with them.
“Tell him I don’t give a fuck,” I say, releasing her.
I pace around the kitchen. This isn’t my problem anymore. Why should I give a shit?
“When is the funeral?” Grace questions. I look at the ceiling, not sure if I’m praying that she just hangs up or if I’m annoyed by her worry.
She shouldn’t care either. You care. Of course, she gives a shit. She’s your best friend.
“In two weeks, in Baker’s Creek. We need him to be there—it’s not optional,” he answers.
Grace and I stare at each other. Baker’s Creek is this small, picturesque town that we often visit since her cousin Tucker has a vacation home and family in the town. They don’t know my father is from there. I’m technically Baker’s Creek royalty—if it was a fucking kingdom.
“Hmm, I know where that is.” Grace grins. I’m sure she’s planning on inviting her entire family to the funeral. “You hear, Beac, we’re going to Baker’s.”
“There’s no fucking way I’m going to that damn town,” I announce.
More like, I’m not going to the funeral, but we’ll be there during the next Decker family reunion.
“Um, we were there just a couple of weeks ago.”
Fuck, what is with her today? I charge toward her. “That’s it, you asked for it, G.”
She screeches, running away from the kitchen.
I catch her by the waist and begin tickling her as I shove her on top of my shoulder.
She’s laughing, snorting, and yelling, “Stop! Put me down, Beac!”
“You know what to do.”
“Uncle!”
I laugh, tossing her on the couch. She grabs my hand, pulls me to her while kicking me behind the knees, so I lose my balance. I end up on the floor and her on top of me. We’re both laughing at the nonsense.
“You need to finish the call,” she mumbles when we finally calm down.
“I don’t.”
She holds my face. “I know it hurts. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a final goodbye but a new hello.”
“No. I’m better without them, G.”
I push myself up and help her stand up. We find my phone, and I say, “Look, asshole, I don’t give a shit about the old man.”
“We agree, Beacon. Yet, we’re here trying to deal with his shit one last time.”
Grace and I frown, looking at each other.
Mills? she mouths.
“Mills?” I ask, fucking confused.
G pulls out her phone and shows me his calendar. He’s supposed to be in New York. The Orcas are playing the Rangers…right about now.