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“Wow. That’s…”

“Deceptive?” I offer. “So is hiding that sick shit from us.”

Tate flinches as though my words physically wound him, but he says nothing.

“Well?” I demand. “What do you have to say?”

“I’m sorry,” Tate rasps. “I don’t understand, though. If you knew about the video and hired me anyway, why are you bringing it up now? To keep me in line?” The tears build on his lids, liquifying his lying eyes. It’s almost pretty in a wicked sort of way.

“I think we should fire you,” I spit out. “You help minors. Are you showing them this video?”

Tate’s defeat morphs into rage and his eyebrows pinch together. “I am offended by such a heinous accusation.”

“Just answer the question.” I cross my arms over my chest, not giving in to his rollercoaster emotions.

“No.” He pins Dad with an earnest stare. “I would never.”

Dad relaxes, which doesn’t bode well for me.

“But you have harassed people with this damn video,” I remind him with a growl. “These things naturally progress—”

“I’m the therapist, not you,” Tate snaps, a rogue tear racing down his cheek. “I’m a victim of something private being used against me, if you absolutely must know.”

The guilt rears its ugly head again, but I squash it down. “Cyber bullying? Who hates you so bad they’d steal your sex videos and email them to your workplace?”

Tate’s lips thin out and a flash ofsomethinggleams in his eyes. Then he completely shuts down, turning into a fucking robot. “I don’t know.”

Liar.

“We believe you,” Dad says gently.

We do fucking not!

Tate’s gaze has found his hands that wring one another in clear agitation. There’s more to this story. He may not have sent them, but someone did. People don’t go through that sort of effort for random strangers they don’t know.

This was personal.

Whether Tate was responsible or not, it doesn’t change the fact he harbors secrets that continue to jeopardize our family. Again, if Dad can’t see what’s clearly staring him in the damn face, then it’s my responsibility to take action.

There’s only one solution.

One that makes my skin crawl but also gives me great relief.

“You’re on probation,” I clip out, waving a dismissive hand at him. “This means I’ll be watching your every move. After this meeting, you’ll be moving into my home where you’ll take your meetings.”

Tate stiffens and jerks his head up to stare at me in confusion. “What? But I’m staying with Callum—”

“No,” I hiss, “you’re staying with me now. You want this job, that’s the condition.”

He turns to look at Dad, giving him a pleading look that might sway my father. Surprisingly, Dad walks over to Tate and squeezes his shoulder in comfort. He leans down and whispers something to him.

I make out the word, “headway.”

I’m sure Dad sees this as an opportunity to get inside my mind, but I’m not the fool around here. I can see right through all this and am the only one looking at Tate with any sort of skepticism. It’s exactly why Tate belongs with me. Where I can watch his every goddamn move.

“I have a cat,” Tate murmurs in a last-ditch effort to plead his case.

“I’ll dock your pay for cat boarding,” I deadpan. “Go pack your shit.”