“Who even gave you permission to be around him without supervision?” Dad demands once they’ve left the room.
An unamused snort bursts from me as I shake my head. I cut my eyes toward Graham, a brow lifted, silently telling himthisis why I didn’t want to fucking come here today. Why I went to the club the night of Noah’s birthday and beat the shit out of my opponent beyond what was necessary to win the fight.
“Last I checked, I don’t need permission to do shit with him.”
“When are you going to grow up, Jagger? You spend all of your time doing God knows what and God knows where. You don’t think about anything but what you want.”
My fists clench at my side. The pain in my jaw from grinding my teeth starts to throb in my temples.
“Dad, back off,” Graham hisses.
“No. Go on. Tell me what a fucking disappointment I am. How you wanted another Graham, but I failed. How I fuck up over and over.” My nostrils flare as I inhale sharp and deeply.
The door opens. Casey steps in, looking between us, her cheeks turning to fire as she notices the thick tension. Poppy appears behind her, her presence instantly soothing a small sliver of my anger. Her gaze rakes over the room, starting at Graham, moving to Dad before landing on me. Her brows furrow as she scans me from head to toe before her attention jerks back to my dad, narrowed and furious.
While I wonder how much she heard, I know it doesn’t matter. Nothing in this house stays innocent.
Poppy
Casey cornered me, waiting just outside the dressing rooms as soon as I stepped out before the show began. “We’re going to the same place,” she said. “You can ride with me and save time. I’m sure I have something you can wear.”
I had no argument. What was I going to say? No? Because her logic was sound.
So I’ve spent the most awkward thirty minutes in the backseat of an SUV, listening to chatter, trying hard not to think about the fact that the first time I met Will, I tried to strip. It shouldn’t matter, considering I was doing exactly what I went to do just a few days ago, but still.
“I noticed you with your boyfriend after the show on Friday night. I wanted to come say hi, but Graham told me to let you have your time together.”
“Um, yeah. Thanks for that. We did want the time alone.”
“Is he still in town?”
“Um…”
“Because if he is, you should call him to come over. I don’t want him to be excluded.”
I wave her off, a tight-lipped smile stretching my mouth. “He does not think he’s being excluded.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. He most definitely does not feel left out of today in any way, and he wants us to enjoy ourselves.” Telling the truth without telling the truth is harder than lying, by the way.
The SUV finally stops outside of a seven-story work of art made of limestone and wrought iron. There are even gargoyles on the third floor overlooking the street. It’s honestly beautiful, and not at all what I was expecting.
A massive pang of guilt slams into me when I realize that in the six months I’ve known her, I’ve never once been here.
I open my door and climb out of the car, waiting for Casey. When she rounds the rear of the black SUV, she grabs my hand and leads me through the garage. Jagger’s car is the first thing I notice, making me smile, even dragging my finger over the paint as we walk by, but the smile fades quickly when yelling can be heard on the other side of the door.
Casey gives me a small, apologetic smile as she opens the door to a small entryway with another door separating the next room. The yelling escalates, and I hear Jagger’s voice, calling himself things that I hate but don’t surprise me.
The door opens, revealing a massive kitchen where the tension is so thick you couldn’t drive a tank through it. I scan the room, starting with Graham, noting his tight jaw and rigid spine as he glares at the man standing across from Jagger.
My eyes follow Graham’s line of sight, and it takes two seconds to realize this is their dad. He looks like an older version of Graham with the same intense, dark eyes, wide jaw, and straight nose. A vein in his forehead protrudes, visibly thumping with anger as he stares at Jagger. The look in his eyes makes me physically ill. It drips with disdain and revulsion.
I turn to look at Jagger, whose eyes are focused on me as I stand next to Casey. Muscles in his cheek twitch. His shoulders are tight and tense. But his eyes…
It’s the same look he had that night he fought. Rage and pain. Regret and shame. They battle just as they did that night, andthough he’s standing under the weight, he looks like he’s drowning.
And no one else seems to notice. I’m sure they see the anger, but they don’t recognize the rest. Don’t see he’s carrying so much on his shoulders, he should crumble to the ground.
