Page 2 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

EASTON

Easton

Don’t go. Please.

Call me back.

Now, Adam.

Please, baby.

I just need to know you’re okay.

Did you land yet?

Answer the phone.

Why won’t you answer me? Are you okay? Please, just tell me you’re okay.

THREE DAYS AGO

“ M ichael Miller’s calling me ?” I feign surprise. “Did someone die?”

He doesn’t find me funny. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“You haven’t called me in two months, Dad.” Not that I’m keeping count or anything. “Seriously, did someone die?” I ask, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I unlock the front door.

“No.” He sighs. “Veronica told me she talked to you two days ago.”

“Veronica, sure. She calls me. You don’t.”

“She fills me in.”

“And I’m sure you listen intently.”

Another sigh. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Because I enjoy pissing you off.” I grin, walking into the kitchen and dropping my gym bag on the floor beside the laundry room. “How many points did I score in my last game?”

“Twenty.”

Impressive. “What do you want, Dad?” I ask, not unkindly.

“Veronica said you’re not coming on Saturday.”

“So you do listen when she talks about me.” I grab a soda from the fridge, popping the top and slurping loudly as I drink.

“Easton, it’s our ten-year anniversary party. Why are you not coming?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Family events make me itchy. I don’t like your brothers or their stuck-up kids.”

“Your uncles and your cousins,” he corrects.

I take another sip. “Anything else, or are we done for another two months?”

He ignores that. “Veronica won’t say it, but I can tell she’s upset. She wants you to be there.”

“Probably because she can’t stand to be around your brothers and their stuck-up kids either,” I grumble. “She needs an ally who won’t turn their nose up at her.”

“They don’t turn their noses up at her.”

“Not when you’re looking.”

I swear I can hear the tic in his jaw. “She doesn’t need you there. My wife can hold her own. She wants you there,” he reiterates. “You know how much she loves you.”

“And I love her.”

“So be there,” he says. “Please.”

I roll my eyes. It’s not every day you get a please out of my dad. He must be desperate. “Fine.”

“Thank you. And, Easton,” he says before I hang up. “Bring a date. It’ll make your stepmother happy to see you happy.”

“I am happy.”

He pauses. “Just humor me, all right?”

“Ugh.” Shaking my head, I hang up and toss my phone on the kitchen island. “Hey, Frankie?” I call, heading out of the kitchen and toward the den on the other side of the huge, six-bedroom house we live in off campus.

“Yeah?” She looks at me from her spot on the couch beside Carter, our friend, housemate, and my teammate.

“You wanna be my date to my parents’ ten-year anniversary party this Saturday?”

She purses her lips. “Is it a fancy party?”

“Mhm.” I lean against the doorframe with my hands behind my back.

“I’ll have to dress up nice and look pretty?”

“You always look pretty. And you can wear that, for all I care.” I tip my chin at the oversized sweats and hoodie she’s wearing. I’m pretty sure they’re mine. “If anyone says anything about the way you look, we’ll accidentally spill champagne on them.”

She nods her approval. “Open bar?”

“Yep.”

“What will the food be like?”

“My stepmother knows her caterers. Trust me.”

Still pretending to think about it, she asks, “What do I get out of it?”

“Besides a good time with me?” I grin, holding up the bag of Chinese food I’ve been hiding behind my back.

She grins, ditching the movie she was watching with Carter and following me back to the kitchen. “Of course I’ll be your date, sweetie,” she says, smacking a loud kiss on my cheek before she snatches the food and jogs ahead of me, pieces of her long, ash blonde hair falling out of the messy bun.

“Why didn’t you choose me to be your date?” Carter asks as he follows. “Is it because I have a dick?”

“It’s not because you have a dick; it’s because you are a dick.” I grab four sodas from the fridge and set them on the island. “I don’t want you within fifty feet of my stepmother.”

“I’m not interested in your stepmother.” Carter grabs the food Frankie passes him after she’s done with it. “It’s your hot daddy I want.”

I scrunch my nose in disgust. “Dude. Ew.”

Frankie’s gaze bounce between us. “How hot are we talking?”

With a sly smile, Carter pulls his phone out of his pocket, finds something on it, and shows it to Frankie. It’s a picture of my dad and Veronica at some charity event. I don’t even want to know where he got that or why he has it saved on his phone.

“Well, shit,” Frankie says. “Maybe I will make an effort for this party.”

“For his dad or his stepmom?” Carter asks.

She looks at the photo again. “Is it wrong of me if I say both?”

“Ew,” I say again, desperate to change the subject. “Where are Nate and Xavi?”

“Probably fucking,” Carter says. “Nate carried him in on his shoulder about an hour ago and took him upstairs. Xavi was laughing. Nate was pretending to be pissed. We haven’t seen them since.”

Good for them. It’s about time they sorted their shit out and finally be happy together.

While we eat, I think about the anniversary party.

I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to go.

Being around my dad and Veronica reminds me of him , the asshole I’ve done my best to forget.

My neighbor and best friend since I was eight, who later became my stepbrother after our parents fell in love and got married.

I remember the day they told us they were engaged.

Adam and I cheered and hugged and jumped around the yard together before we fell into the pool.

We were happier for ourselves than we were for them.

We were going to be brothers. It was a dream come true.

Until it became a nightmare.

Clearly, I haven’t forgotten him, but I’m trying. Trying to move on. Trying to get over it. Still fucking trying , even after all these years.

I do this to myself on every special occasion. Every Christmas, every birthday, every Mother’s Day…

What if he shows up? What if he finally returns? What will I do then?

Fisting my hand, I grind my teeth. I can think of a few things I’d like to do about it.

Carter raises an eyebrow at me, and I snap out of it, forcing myself to calm the fuck down. Veronica would have told me if he was coming.

He’s not coming.

I don’t think he’s ever coming back.