Page 15

Hadley

April: Grabbing a man by the balls is wildly effective.

The ringing in my ears won’t stop. An ongoing, muted chime that’s obnoxious enough to force one eye open.

A nice little wave of nausea hits, like I need the reminder of how many cocktails I enjoyed last night.

Every damn thing that happened and everything I said come rushing back to me like a wave pulling me under. Oh, fuck.

My head feels like it might explode when I roll over too fast. Searching for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers graze an unopened water bottle.

I sit up and find two ibuprofen next to it, along with a clementine.

I smile. I’ve stayed here too many times to keep track, and every time there’s something thoughtful waiting when I wake up. Griz always thinks ahead like that.

A wall of texts lights up my phone, and as I pick it up to swipe and read, I accidentally answer the call that flashes across my screen. Shit.

“Miss Finch?” a voice says loudly, and then moments later, I’m met with both my father and his attorney, both looking at me through FaceTime. “I’m here with your father.”

I wipe the makeup from under my eyes, rubbing away any sleep that still lingers, my hangover gnawing at my senses as I attempt to keep my emotions in check. “What part of, stop trying to speak with me , aren’t you understanding?”

“Miss Finch, as your father’s attorney, I’m begging you to please consider transferring the money that has been outlined. There are rather aggressive people who have not been paid.” He exhales heavily, then adds, “Not to mention, those upset about all they’ve lost.”

“Who do you think is getting those angry phone calls, hm?”

My father’s fist pounds on his desk as he sits beside his attorney.

“For Christ’s sake, Hadley. It doesn’t matter if you’re angry with me; there are people who will get what they’re owed, regardless of if you’re having a temper tantrum about it.

For once in your life, start acting like a Finch.

” If he had said something like that to me a decade ago, it would have hit harder.

Now, it’s a compliment. I haven’t been acting like a Finch or doing what he wants for a long time. What makes him think I’ll start now?

I blink, trying not to react to his threat.

My father is very good at causing chaos.

He’s been doing it my entire life. I was simply an inconvenience.

Until I wasn’t. He is the ultimate narcissist, above all the other things in his repertoire.

Anxiety ripples through me, my stomach twisting and the headache feeling more like light-headedness.

I want to ignore all of this. I don’t want to go near a single part of the mess he’s made of his life.

“Be careful, Pumpkin, you wouldn’t want the things you’ve worked so hard for to end up more of a mess than they already are.” His attorney tries to cut him off by holding up his hand.

A reaction will only feed the monster. I bite down on the anger that his threat to my business surfaces and don’t respond. But he takes that as an opportunity to keep talking.

“Heard Lincoln Foxx got married last night?—”

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything more. I hang up and toss my phone to the bottom of the bed, turning over and screaming into the pillow until I expel every ounce of breath from my lungs. Fuck him.

I’ve heard more from my father since his house arrest than I have for the majority of my adult life.

He wants something, or rather, all of what I currently have control over.

It’s the one thing he never planned—if anything were to happen to him, all of it, from the money to the land, businesses, and properties, would go to me to handle.

He’d left the power to the one puppet he never really controlled—and he was finally realizing that.

I throw my feet over the side of the bed and wince at the idea of putting my heels on, but that’s what I get for not bringing a change of clothes.

I peer out of the double doors and down the hall. It’s too early for the sun, but it’s bright enough in here to quietly navigate to the front door and outside.

“You’re my favorite, you know that, right?” Griz asks as he sits on his rocker on the front porch. With a mug in each hand, both steaming, his mustache kicks up. “Why are you sneaking out of here? You finally end up in my grandson’s bed?”

I bark out a laugh. “Griz!”

“I don’t know what the hell you two are waitin’ on. Even with a nice nudge, that man is so damn stubborn.”

I swallow at his words as I peel the clementine he left for me.

What am I supposed to say to that? I can’t keep chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

Maybe I’ve never been as forward as I was last night, but he just left me standing there, turned on and in the dark. That seems like all the answer I need.

Griz chuckles to himself, sipping his coffee.

“He seems like he’s got it all figured out.

But Ace tries to be too many things for too many people.

He has his own way of doing it, but that man’s single goal in life is to protect people.

Especially the ones he cares about most. And Hadley Jean, that man has tried most of his life to ignore how much he cares about you. ”

I look out toward the stables. “I know he does. It’s just not the way I want.”

He taps my hand and gives it a squeeze. But it’s what he says next that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget.

“He would only ever be able to choose you. That man won’t love anyone else.

Believe me, I know. Because when you find it”—he shakes his head—“it’s impossible to think about anything else. ”

“Griz...” I trail off, smiling to shield myself from the fantasy instead of the reality.

“I’m pretty sure the same goes for you.” He takes a few chugs of his coffee and places his hand over mine. “They might say to never fall for a Foxx, but nobody ever said what could happen if a Foxx fell for you. There isn’t a damn thing more real than the way you look at my grandson.”

He’s not wrong.

He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a picture.

I know it’s Shelby Calloway right away. I knew her first as one of the top trainers for Finch & King.

My father was never shy about telling people how she could train the hell out of horses.

But I got to know her when she became an unexpected person in Griz’s life.

Faye’s mom started coming for family dinners about a year or so after Faye left town.

I remember Griz and Shelby sitting out on this porch, laughing together.

It always made me smile, seeing him with her.

He deserves to find someone like that again.

She passed away unexpectedly a few years before Faye came back to Fiasco.

I know how it feels to miss someone. It’s something that all of us have in common.

“Is that Shelby?” I ask anyway.

He nods, handing me the photo. “Some people just hit different—for no reason other than that.” Resting his chin on his fist, he says, “Shelby had been in a bad place for a long while before she looked my way, but once she did”—he makes an explosion sound—“that was it. Made me feel more like myself than any other person on this planet. And that’s saying something.

” He clears his throat, taking the picture back from me and returning it to his pocket. “You remember Ace’s nana?”

I nod, vaguely remembering her and the way she always had cinnamon buns baking.

“She was a wonderful woman,” he says. “Miss her too. But I don’t think we’re meant to just love once. It’s too good not to feel it as many times as we can.” He glances at me with a pointed look. “Stop being an idiot.”

I raise my eyebrows as a laugh bubbles from my chest.

“The both of you,” he says, shaking his head like I’ve been truly reprimanded.

I let the conversation settle. It’s been a long time since I spent a morning with Griz and just let him talk. I think a lot of people see the easy smile and older charm, but forget that he’s been the heart of more than the Foxx family. He keeps a pulse on Fiasco, much like Ace does.

“You know the one thing nobody ever tells you about getting older?” Griz asks, just as I sip the extra cup he had out here for me. “The copious amounts of bird watching.”

I smile as he gets up and leans against the porch banister, grabbing a pair of binoculars perched there. “You sure it’s bird watching, or are you spying?”

He laughs at that, but his thick mustache barely moves. “Here, take a look,” he says, holding them out to me.

“Alright, what am I looking at?”

I look out to the large white building with a prominent Foxx logo painted along its side in black—opposite colors than the rickhouses that line the expansive property.

Those are all black, from roof to foundation, with a simple white logo that shows off it’s theirs.

The black is meant to absorb as much heat from the sun as possible.

Griz said it’s just a little part of their secret sauce, letting the natural elements of Kentucky shape the way their bourbon’s made.

“The oak tree. To your left, just before the path down to Grant and Laney’s place.”

I move the lens around according to his direction.

“There’s a nest of these tiny little things—loud when they’re awake, but it sounds sweet. I’ve never minded loud. Preferred most things that way—music, women, life, you name it.”

I smile, because it’s such a Griz thing to say.

“There’s one that’s always bringing something back to the nest. At first glance, it looks like there’s just one.

But every day, I watch, and I see the other one stop in, check up on the other, and then fly off.

I bet she doesn’t even know it—how much that one pays attention to her, stops in, making sure she’s okay. ”

I lower the binoculars and look down at the leather strap. It’s pretty obvious he isn’t talking about the empty nest in that tree anymore.