𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 || 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞

Four

❥ 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄.

Was I angry? Yes. But would I be lying if I said I didn't melt at him trying to protect me a little bit? Yes..

Avery came running into my room minutes after I left the kitchen. Her face was red and sweat beads were rolling down her forehead.

"Did you run a marathon?" I teased.

"We live in Hawthorne house, so yes," she sat down on the bed next to me and I instinctively shifted away from her, sweat and all. Avery rolled her eyes. "Did you call Grayson?"

"Once," I said. "but he won't pick up. Have you talked to Jameson?"

Avery nodded. "They landed a couple of hours ago. Just give it some time."

Time was something I felt like I didn't have anymore. One minute, I was living out of my car in Connecticut, and the next i'm here, in Hawthorne House, and my sister is going to be a billionaire.

"We should've gone with them."

"We can't," Avery let out a sigh. "Tobias rules were we had to stay in Hawthorne House for a year. We were only allowed to be away for—"

"Three days!" I said, excitement and realization hitting me all at once. How had I not thought of this! I stood up off the bed, pacing back and forth as different ideas seeped into my head.

"Okay, hold on," Avery stood up. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," A pause. Did I know what I was saying?

no.

"I need to call Grayson," I pulled my phone out, despite Avery's voice screaming "NO" in my ears repeatedly.

The line rang for a couple of seconds before I heard muffled noises through the phone. "Evelyn?" It wasn't Grayson. It was freaking Jameson.

"Jameson," I said, patience thinning. "Grayson. Now." There was a small pause and my guess was Grayson was in the room but too much of a scaredy-cat to talk to me.

So much for acting like nothing happened. He quite literally took my words from the wine cellar and threw them off the cliff emily jumped from.

Seriously!

"He doesn't want to talk," Jameson said, pulling me from my thoughts. "He's busy.."

Busy my ass. "Busy ignoring me?"

I could almost see Jamesons mouth contort into a smirk when he said, "Something like that."

"If you don't put him on the phone now, I swear—"

"Since he's being such an ass, why not." There was more muffled noises, and I almost swore I heard Grayson say fuck.

"Eve?" His voice was slurred.

"New nickname?" I was smiling so hard I almost forgot I was supposed to be mad at him.

"I thought it worked."

"Why are you ignoring me?"

A beat passed. "I don't know what to say to you. Being near you and not having you is weird enough."

Oh.

Oh?

"Grayson," I said, hoping and praying that I would be wrong. "Are you drunk right now?" Please say no. Please say no. Please—

"Define drunk."

Oh my gosh.

Avery was using all sorts of hand signals and mouthing things I didn't understand. Instead of answering her, I focused my attention on the problem at hand: Drunk Grayson.

"May I ask why?"

"Life is hard," he said. "and we don't talk anymore."

Guilt pierced through my stomach. He knew why we didn't talk, but the mention of it still ached me to my core. I guess I wasn't alone. "Are you safe? Where are you and Jameson?"

Grayson sighed, an obvious response to my deflection. If only he knew. "Hotel room. We're about to talk to my dad."

My interest peaked. "You mean, Sheffield Grayson?"

"Yes."

He had to be feeling something. None of the Hawthorne boys knew their fathers growing up, and now Grayson had a chance to finally meet the man that he shares half his blood with.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"About my father?" Grayson asked, his voice softer than before.

"No," I said. My tone matched his. "About Skye Hawthorne. Your mother. You never told me the reason she left Hawthorne House is because you kicked her out."

"She tried to hurt you, that's reason enough."

It was the way he said it, with such confidence. Like it wasn't even a question on why he did it. I swallowed back all the things I wanted to say. "Grayson," I breathed out. 

"I know," Silence. "Ev—" In the background, I heard the squeaking sound of a door opening and shuffling around. My first thought was correct. Sheffield Grayson.

"I have to go," Grayson whispered.

"Grayson—" but the phone line went dead, and I was left with my own thoughts.

I knew pushing Grayson away was the right thing to do, so why did it feel like a part of me wasn't whole?
—

a/n:

kind of a filler chapter but the drama stars soooooon :0 also i can't wait until we get to the final gambit for this book oooo