Page 105 of Home Grown Talent
To Mason’s surprise, Frieda met Min’s gaze and slowly nodded, covering one of Min’s hands with her own. And for the first time, Mason saw his sister, brimming with youthful certainty, not as a child, the dependent he’d always considered her, but as a young woman emerging into the world on her own terms. His equal, with her own, different relationship with their mum. A healthier relationship, probably.
Over Frieda’s head, their eyes met, Min’s bright and unflinching, and he felt the weight of responsibility ease a fraction from his shoulders for the first time since Kurt left.
It was a revelation.
Frieda would always be anxious and needy. Nothing would change that after fifty-four years of life, but he wasn’t the only one Frieda could lean on—and Christ, that was a liberating feeling.
Min gave him a wry smile, as if she knew what he was thinking. And maybe she did. She obviously saw a lot more than he’d ever realised.
“So,” she said, raising her brows at him. “What are you going to do, Mase? Screw up your career or screw over your boyfriend?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Owen
“I’ve got a call provisionally lined up with Kushal for tomorrow at four,” Lewis said. “Will that be okay for you timing-wise?”
Kushal was Lewis’s lawyer. He was a media specialist and, according to Lewis, already had a number of ideas about the steps Owen could take over Misty’s social media posts.
They were sitting at Lewis’s kitchen table—Owen and Lewis and Aaron. Lewis had a notepad in front of him, covered in his spiky handwriting. Aaron had his laptop open and was periodically tapping notes into it.
“I’m not sure,” Owen said worriedly. “That’s going to cost a fortune, isn’t it? I don’t have that kind of money.”
Lewis looked pained. “Owen, come on. You don’t need to worry about that. I can—”
“No.” Owen glared at him. “I don’t need you to pay for stuff for me.”
Lewis gave an exasperated huff. “I thought you wanted my help.”
Owen felt a pang of shame. He did want Lewis’s help, to the extent that he’d actually asked for it for once. All their lives, Owen had been the big brother, the one who took care of things. And that was fine—that was who Owen was after all. But yeah, right now, today, it felt good to have his brother on his side and so intent on sorting out all his problems. Because the truth was, Owen hadn’t felt so beaten down by anything in a long time. Maybe ever. There had been too many hard things at once. The public humiliation, the worry of what #pineapplegate was doing to his business… and having his heart ripped apart.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I do want your help. I’m just worried. I spent so long building up the business, and these last few days—” Mortifyingly, his voice gave out. He covered his face with his hands. “Fuck.”
Lewis gripped his shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
The lump in his throat felt huge. It ached.
Lewis’s hand was solid and warm, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth in a soothing gesture—and why did that make Owen want to cry? He didn’t cry, though. Instead, he forced himself to take a big breath, then another one.
When he finally looked up again, it was to find Lewis and Aaron both watching him.
Aaron said quietly, practically, “Listen, one call with Kushal won’t commit you to anything. Are you free at four tomorrow? Or do you need it to be later?”
Owen pulled out his phone, checking his calendar. “Four’s okay,” he confirmed. Then, awkwardly to Lewis, “Sorry for being a dick.”
Lewis’s mouth quirked up on one side. “’S’all right. It’s quite nice to be the non-dick brother for a change.”
Owen laughed ruefully.
Lewis had been more than a non-dick actually. He’d been pretty amazing, both him and Aaron. They’d checked out all the online shit before Owen arrived so he didn’t have to look at it again. Then they’d listened as he’d vomited out the whole sorry pineapple story. And then Lewis had explained a bunch of stuff he and Aaron were already lining up—because yeah, Kushal was only part of the plan.
Lewis had also arranged a meeting with the head of HR at RPP to kick off an internal procedure, while Aaron had pulled together all the relevant RPP policies and started drafting up a detailed point-by-point complaint for Owen to file. Even if the call with Kushal came to nothing, they had a solid plan to take action against Misty through RPP’s internal channels.
“And there’s one other avenue we’re following up,” Aaron said. “Or rather, Tag O’Rourke is.”
“Tag?” Owen echoed, surprised.