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“Three months.”
“One month.”
“Deal,” he grouses.
“Don’t be too hard on Ian,” I urge, tilting my chin up to look at him. “You know he would never hurt you.”
“I know,” he sighs. “He’s such a good friend. The dick.”
“Speaking of—”
“Not on your life,” Jack says, shoving me away. “As far as I’m concerned, you are both celibate and happier for it.”
I laugh as I try to hug him again, fighting against his one-armed shoves to fight me off. We wrestle on the couch for a minute more—him poking me in the side and me trying to lick his cheek while he shouts about how gross I am—only settling when the sudden and constant pinging in his pocket finally has me pulling away with curiosity.
“Is someone trying to hunt you down or something?”
He shakes his head, fishing out his phone with his good hand and swiping it awake. His frown is immediate, and it’s much more dour-looking than the one he wore when he was just here to gripe at me for keeping my relationship with Ian from him. The one he wears now makes my stomach twist.
“What is it?”
“Google alert,” he says in a clipped tone, scrolling furiously as he skims whatever he sees there. “Fuck.”
He shows me the screen, and one look at the headline has my heart thudding violently in my chest, and I’m already scrambling off the couch. “Where is he?”
“Home,” Jack answers. “Should we—?”
But I’m already out the door, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone as the singular focus that drives me carries my feet one after the other. Only one thought in my mind dominating my every step.
Get to Ian.
Twenty-Four
IAN
LEGACY HOCKEY STAR BRADLEY CHASE’S SECRET LOVE CHILD
THE CHASE DYNASTY CRUMBLES: DRUIDS OWNER TELL-ALL
IAN CHASE HELPED KEEP HIS FATHER’S DIRTY SECRETS FOR YEARS
WHO IS ABIGAIL THOMPSON?
MEI, ABIGAIL, AND DELILAH—THE TANGLED WEB OF WOMEN IN IAN CHASE’S LIFE
It’s the last one that puts me the most on edge, strangely. The other explosion of headlines I had the misfortune of stumbling across while thumbing through the photos of Lila and me kissing for the dozenth time are upsetting, sure, but it’s the one that throws Lila into the mix that truly has my stomach twisting.
There are texts from her on my phone, her and Jack, so I know she’s on her way here, but I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. What I’m going to see on her face when she gets here. Will there be disappointment? Exhaustion? Will I see that it’s too much for her? Everything that’s happening feels so reminiscent of years ago, and given that the last time my personal life was aired for the world to see led to me leaving the fucking country, I can’t help but feel terrified at what this will mean for me. More important, what it will mean for me and Lila.
And could I even blame her if she wanted to put the brakes on things? She didn’t sign up for this. She didn’t ask for all the baggage that comes with being close to me. Already the media is speculating, tearing into her for just the crime of maybe being in a relationship with me, and it makes me sick, reading the things people are saying about her. Knowing it’s my fault that they’re saying them at all. They call her naive, they pity her for having to deal with my “lies”—hell, some have even speculated that she knew all along, and that somehow makes her just as tangled in the web of my father’s twisted legacy as I am.
I fucking hate it.
I’ve been sitting here trying to formulate some sort of plan, even trying to discern how in the hell the media might have gotten wind of this after so long—coming up with nothing on both fronts. The only people I’ve told the intimate details of the entire truth to are Mei, Jack, and now Lila, and I trust each of them implicitly. I can only assume that somewhere, somehow, my father finally fucked up. That’s the most satisfying option, anyway.
Speaking of the dick in question, there are several texts waiting for me from him as well. I’ve yet to answer any of them, mainly because I don’t yet know what I want to say.
DAD: If you had something to do with this there will be consequences.
