Page 5

Discovering this little tidbit, I had to see it for myself.

I know I should listen to my father and stay away.

I should be working harder for him to finally be proud of me and see that I am competent and can handle running the conglomerate that he’s built once he’s ready to retire.

Too bad for both of us, when I set my heart on something, I have to see it through.

And right now? That’s learning more about Carter Hayes.

It’s tempting, though, to just drop this hunt I’ve suddenly become obsessed with, to finally be in his good graces.

If he weren’t such an evil prick. My dad is your typical egotistical asshole who doesn’t realize what a loud-mouthed douche canoe he actually is.

Everything that comes from his mouth drips with condescendence, misplaced arrogance, and garbled bullshit that I try hard to tune out.

If he didn’t hold my life in the palm of his hand, I’d walk away and never talk to him again.

But as my life sits currently, he’s right, I wouldn’t have anything if I didn’t have the job that I love so much.

The career that I very much worked for, but is underneath him, regardless. He owns me, and he knows it.

Being able to travel through these gorgeous states and parts of Canada, discovering new places, tiny towns, must-eat diners, and the best hikes has been such a privilege.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to travel and write about my experiences to share with the rest of the world.

I’ve convinced my dad to expand from just the Pacific Northwest—but he’s only on board if I continue to be his yes-man.

Behaving. Complying. Being the perfect son, which couldn’t be further from reality.

The only good thing my dad has done that I agree with is to make me genuinely work my way up, rather than just giving me a top position within the magazine because I’m his son.

He did it to purposefully demean me, but I was grateful for it.

I studied hard at one of the best journalism programs in the country, and have worked damn hard to perfect my craft.

Investigative journalism isn’t quite what I thought I would be doing, but man, if I’m not intrigued by this quaint town and the family that seems to be at its helm.

Daddy dearest isn’t exactly forthcoming with the information on why he wants me to drop it.

Just expects his trained lap dog to comply, dangling a treat he knows I want in front of my snout. My career.

Swiping up on the green connect button, I answer his call to get it over with.

“Hi, Dad,” I greet, keeping my voice monotone, neither overly friendly nor curt, remaining professional at all times so that I don’t fuel the fire of his disappointment.

“Son.”

His voice grates over me, a headache starting at the base of my skull. I imagine most fathers’ voices bring memories of encouragement and comfort, but not mine .

“Remember, Griffin, I can take all of this away.”

“Don’t forget who made you, Griffin. And who can fucking end you.”

“You’re a goddamn embarrassment, Griffin. Fall in line or you’re done.”

“Are you even listening? Fuck, Griffin. Can you attempt to do the bare minimum?”

My dad’s voice barks through the speaker, bringing me back to the present. Every time I hear the name Griffin, I can’t control my visceral reaction. I was named after him, a gift my mother bestowed upon me, as if giving me his last name wasn’t enough of a reminder of who I belonged to.

“Sorry, I was answering an email,” I lie.

“When I call, you give me your full attention, do you understand? And you sure as shit don’t ignore my phone calls.”

I’m twenty-nine years old and still being spoken to like a misbehaving child.

If I weren’t wound up so tightly in a spool that I don’t know how to unravel myself from, I wouldn’t take the abuse.

But he’s my dad, I love my job, and I have no idea how to walk away from this life when I have nothing else to go to.

If I ever left, he’d make damn sure I was never published by anyone but him.

A threat he’s made before. He’d essentially ruin any chance I’d have of ever writing again, and writing is my life. It’s all I have.

“Sorry, Dad. What can I help you with today?”

He huffs hard, not bothering to pull the phone away, and I crack my neck from side to side to ease some of the tension.

“Give me an update on the new locations you’ve found.

It’s been weeks. A monkey could have done faster work than you, Griffin.

I should have let Dion handle this, but I thought my son could be more competent than he apparently is.

You had better give me something good and fast. I’m getting tired of waiting.

We need things to write about, Griffin, and we can’t do that if you don’t do your goddamn research and find them! ”

Fuck.

“Sorry to be a constant source of disappointment for you, Dad. I’m working on it.”

“And? What does that even mean? Jesus, Griffin. Can’t you do anything right? I’m going to bring Dion in on this, it’s clearly too much for you to fucking handle. You really are more incompetent than I thought. Are you staying the fuck away from Aspen Ridge?”

I take a deep breath, suddenly fearful about what could happen to Carter if my dad found out that I hooked up with him last night.

Dion is as ruthless as my father is, and I don’t need him poking around in my business, either.

He’s an eager little shit and loves to suck my dad’s dick.

Metaphorically. Although I wouldn’t put it past him if my dad whipped it out and told him to get on his knees.

A sudden image of Carter on his for me flashes behind my eyes.

I feel an odd sense of protection over him.

I’ve never met anyone like him, even if we didn’t exchange many words.

I can’t let my dad or Dion sink their claws into him.

There’s no way he’ll come out unscathed.

I’ve been surviving his wrath for my entire life, and I can continue to take it.

“Dad, I’m sorry I’m a disappointment. I will get it to you soon.”

Another audible huff, his breath whipping through the speaker of the phone, making my skin crawl.

At least we’re not face-to-face where the scent of scotch and cigars mingles on his breath, as drops of spittle fly from his mouth when he yells.

My stomach rolls at the thought. My own father disgusts me, a deeply physical, emotional, and mental response.

“Last chance, Griffin. And do not forget about dinner tonight,” he barks before disconnecting the call.

My dad’s an epic prick. Love our morning chats; sets the day up for success and a real positive attitude.

My door opens after a quick rap of someone’s knuckles, and even though I can already anticipate who it is, I’m still not happy about it.

“What?” I snap as Trey walks in. He raises his eyebrows at me, his only warning that he isn’t going to take my shit. I take a deep breath, letting my rage simmer before giving him a fake, patronizing smile.

“Much better,” he replies, walking into my office and taking a seat across from my desk.

Trey has been my personal assistant, which he hates being called, since I was promoted to a travel writer.

We’ve been best friends since high school, and when I got back from California, we picked right back up where we left off.

At twenty-eight, he still has no idea what he wants to do with his life, so he’s doing this until he figures it out.

“Now, we still haven’t replied to Carter Hayes’ email on that meeting that he was promised. . .”

My heart stammers behind my ribs at hearing his name. I’m so thoroughly fucked when it comes to him. How is that even possible? Trey reads the change in my expression, which is the reason he brought Carter up to begin with.

“Why are you raising your eyebrows at me like that?” I ask, unamused, rage still simmering right at the surface.

“For real? You’re gonna make me ask? You’re such a little fucker. How did last night go? Did you find him?”

Damnit. Why do I tell this asshole everything? I let loose a breath and relax further into my chair, putting my hands behind my head, knowing full well he won’t leave until he’s been given a bone.

“Yeah. I found him.”

“The sex club?”

My face must say it all .

“No, you didn’t,” he says through a deep chuckle. “Damn, that’s some serious commitment, my guy.”

“Not what you’re thinking, buddy. At all,” I lie, and he knows it.

I’m openly gay, and Trey was the first one I came out to in high school.

He said he figured, especially since I wasn’t chasing girls the way he was, and that I looked like I was trying not to gag when I was making out with Bianca Lyman in the eleventh grade.

I wrongly and unfairly assumed it would bother him, but nothing’s ever changed between us.

“I don’t have to compete with you for chicks, man, this is awesome.

They think you’re way hotter than me.” And that was the end of it.

“I can read you like a book. You hooked up with someone last night, but it wasn’t Carter Hayes?”

“It was my first night at a sex club, Trey, of course I hooked up with someone. Who the hell wouldn’t?”

His phone buzzes in his hand, saving me from having to come clean to him about the specifics. He’ll pull them from me eventually, but I need to hold out until I figure out a plan. Trey’s shoulders drop, and he rolls his eyes at his phone.

“We’re not done with this shit, ’cause I want details about what the club was like. What do you want me to say to Carter?”

I sigh. I want to meet with him, but I know my dad has ways of tracking every email that goes out and comes into this company.

“Let it sit.”

“Real professional,” he deadpans.