Justine
The gate slides open and Ryker guides his Camaro up the long, winding driveway. I didn’t even know that there were houses in this town that had gates. It seems even stranger to be driving with Ryker’s hand resting on my leg. The touch started out as comforting because I couldn’t stop my leg from shaking when I got in the car, but then he never moved it and I didn’t protest.
The break-in rocked me, and I can’t help but feel like my one safe place has been violated. When the anger began wearing off, all I could picture was what would have happened if someone had broken in while I was home. The shaking hasn’t stopped since.
I don’t often seek comfort from others, but I’m glad I wasn’t alone tonight. It doesn’t matter how strong I tell myself I am; I’m also self-aware enough to know that I have a breaking point. Tonight might have cracked it.
Still, I’m surprised Ryker didn’t insist on taking me to his condo. Probably because he knows I would have insisted on calling Merica.
When he said he was bringing me here, I couldn’t find the words to say no. Justice Grant is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and if I’m being honest, I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to have a man like him as a father. I’ve never met Mrs. Grant, so I have no idea what to expect from the woman I’ve seen in the family pictures Justice Grant keeps in his chambers. The perfect family, that’s what those pictures could have been captioned.
The only family pictures I have are snapshots of me and Gramps together. My parents never bothered.
The house comes into view, and it’s just as perfect as those pictures. White and huge, with a red front door.
We park in front of one of the four garage stalls, and Ryker climbs out of the car. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. When I don’t get out right away, he comes around and opens my door.
“Let me get your bag for you.”
A thought strikes me. “Do your parents know we’re coming? Did you call them?” I flip through the last hour in my head, and he had the opportunity when I was inside with Campus Safety, checking once more to see if anything had been stolen, but I don’t remember him saying anything.
“My mom won’t be home, and my dad won’t care. He likes you.”
Warmth creeps into my chest at the approval in those words, and I climb out of the car to follow him to a side door. A little of my anxiety drains away at not having to meet his mother tonight. She looks so flawless in the pictures, and I’ve often wondered if there’s any way she could be as kind as Justice Grant.
Inside the garage, there are three shiny black cars and one under a cover. A hint of red peeks out from under the gray nylon. Ryker doesn’t slow, just heads for the door and twists the knob.
“Dad, you around?” His deep voice echoes through the house, bouncing off dark, shining wood floors and stark white walls. The ceilings are at least ten feet tall—maybe taller. I hear movement ahead, and Ryker walks toward it and turns the corner.
“What brings you out here tonight?” Justice Grant’s voice is comforting and familiar after the crap night I’ve had.
I peek around the corner as well, and his brow furrows with confusion when he sees me. His gaze darts between me and Ryker.
“And Justine. This is quite the surprise.”
“Justine’s place got broken into and she couldn’t stay there. Luckily, I was giving her a ride home from dinner and came up with the great idea that she stay here tonight. I’ll crash in my old room. She can take the guest room.” Ryker’s arm comes around my shoulders, and he pulls me closer to his side.
More confusion and questions enter Justice Grant’s eyes, but I’m not at liberty to answer most of them in front of his son. The fact unleashes a wave of guilt inside me. What must he think of me? I need a chance to talk to him alone.
“That’s awful, Justine. I’m so sorry to hear that. Where are you living? Did you call the police? Have they found who did it?” Justice Grant fires off questions, and Ryker takes the liberty of answering for me.
“She’s in Gilroy, and apparently the university has let it get run-down to the point where break-ins are common. Campus Safety barely blinked about it. It was bullshit.”
“I thought Gilroy was being torn down?”
“Next year.” I explain the same thing I did to Ryker, and by the end of it, Justice Grant looks about like he did when he was told someone disagreed with his judicial opinion.
“That’s ridiculous, especially if Campus Safety isn’t patrolling it appropriately. I’ll have to discuss it with the university’s board of trustees.”
Well, shit. What if they decide the place isn’t fit to be lived in and kick us all out? I don’t have somewhere else to go right now that I can afford without a roommate, and I really don’t want to have to find another one.
I guess if I had to, there’s always Merica’s couch to crash on. Why didn’t I call her before I let Ryker talk me into coming here? The only excuse I can come up with is my brain is completely fried from the double stroke of bad luck hitting home tonight. Besides, it wasn’t like Ryker was asking me if I wanted to come here; he just told me I was. Why did I let him do that?
Moment of weakness, I assure myself. That’s all it was.
“Let’s get you settled upstairs. My wife would love to meet you, but she’s out of town on an extended project. She’s much better at this hospitality stuff than I am, but we keep the room ready regardless. The housekeeper was here yesterday, so it should be dusted and aired out.”
I smile, trying not to convey just how out of place I feel right now as he continues.
“And you’ve eaten already, so we don’t need to worry about that, unless you’d like some dessert. Or would you like a drink? A glass of wine? Something stronger? It sounds like you’ve had a rough night.”
It’s strange to see Justice Grant in domestic mode, but he’s just as thoughtful as he’s always been. I’m not sure what to say in response, and I look to Ryker to gauge his expression.
He’s already looking down at me. “Want a drink? Might help you get to sleep. I know we need to be up early for class.”
“Uh, sure.”
“Preference?” Justice Grant asks.
I don’t think now is the time to ask for vanilla vodka and root beer, but that’s all I really drink. I’m not sophisticated. I don’t know anything about wine, so I take the easy route. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having. I’m not picky.”
“Then cognac it is. You’ll enjoy it. This one is Ryker’s favorite.”
I nod, even though I don’t have a clue what cognac is, but I want to sleep without having nightmares about someone breaking into my house while I’m inside it. I can just imagine the icy, gut-wrenching fear would have been ten times stronger than the anger and helplessness I felt when I saw the door was kicked in. If Ryker hadn’t pushed me to study tonight at Unwired, I would have been studying at home. Inwardly, I shudder at the thought of what could have happened.
“I’m going to get Justine settled upstairs, and we’ll be back down,” Ryker tells his father.
“I’ll pour some cognac in the library and have it waiting.”
I follow Ryker as he leads me up a wide staircase in the front entryway of the house and then down a hallway to the right. The walls are all stark white, but not plain, because there’s molding about three feet up from the floor and what looks like picture-frame-shaped molding below it. We stop at the end of the hall where there’s a door to the right and a door ahead of us. Ryker twists the handle on the door on the right and steps inside.
It’s a beautiful room in shades of silvery gray and pale purple. A large four-poster canopy bed dominates the space with gauzy silver fabric hanging from it. The matching dark wood dresser sits on the far wall, and a pale purple chair and footstool sit between the dresser and the bed. The silvery curtains are open, but I can see nothing beyond the darkness of the night.
“This is the guest room. Sorry about the purple-and-gray explosion.”
“It’s beautiful.” And it is. Actually, it’s the most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever been in.
Ryker sets my backpack on the bed and nods to the door a few feet from the bed. “You’ve got a bathroom through there that connects with my room. My room is next door, the one at the end of the hall.” He steps toward me and lifts a hand to my face before brushing a stray lock of hair away from my eyes. “If you want to just crash instead of having a drink with my dad, that’s cool. No pressure.”
What I want is for him to kiss me again.
I freeze at the thought. I can’t be thinking things like that. And not just because we’re standing in his parents’ house.
But Ryker doesn’t kiss me. He stares into my eyes, trying to read my thoughts, and I’m glad he doesn’t have that power. I saw the confused look on Justice Grant’s face when Ryker curled his arm around my shoulders. He has to be wondering what the hell is going on between his son and me.
I need to talk to him alone. I need to explain that it’s nothing.
Because it is nothing. Right?
Maybe if I keep lying to myself, it’ll come true. Fake it till you make it, right?
“I’m good with having a drink. Give me five minutes?”
Ryker’s thumb smooths over my cheekbone before he drops his hand from my face. “Whatever you need.”
He leaves the room, but not without a backward glance that sears me to the core.
I’m so screwed.
Ten minutes later we’re heading downstairs and I’m following Ryker through the halls of the house. It looked big from the outside, but the inside seems even larger. We find Justice Grant in a room that nearly stops my heart. It’s wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling books.
Library envy. It’s a thing. And I have it. Acutely.
“Wow. This is amazing. Did you collect all of these books?” I can’t hold back the question.
Justice Grant pauses after pouring brown liquor into an ornate glass to match the other two on the small side table. His eyes find mine and he smiles.
“I’ve been a collector of books for many years. Some are gifts from family and friends, some purchased, and some were left when we bought the house years ago. Now I’m running out of shelf space and having to thin down my collection in order to add the ones I want.”
“It’s a beautiful room.” My eyes scan the shelves before landing on the cozy window seat I’d like to curl up in for hours to read.
Ryker steps forward and grabs two glasses off the table and hands one to me. “Let’s see how you like cognac.”
I’m not offended that he assumes I’ve never had it, because it’s the truth. I stare down at the contents of the glass and wonder how I’m supposed to go about drinking this stuff. Do I take it like a shot or sip? I watch both Ryker and his father, and they swirl the liquid before sipping. I mimic their motions, but almost slosh the liquor over the side.
I check both their faces to make sure they didn’t catch my almost faux pas, but neither did.
Putting my lips to my glass of half-swirled cognac, I fear I’m going to hate it or want to spit it out and embarrass the hell out of myself. But surprisingly, it hits my tongue and tastes a little like candy in a glass. It goes down easy, and I don’t have an urge to choke or spit. Winning.
As we sample our cognac in silence, I wait for someone to start a conversation. Justice Grant takes the lead.
“I spoke to your mother just before you got here, and she misses you very much.”
“Thanks for the update,” Ryker says, continuing to sip his drink.
I know Mrs. Grant is a big-time partner at a law firm in town called Grant Bentham Beckett. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that she’s one of the founding partners.
“She’s a litigator, right?” I ask.
Justice Grant nods. “Yes, she handles very complex civil litigation, and her cases generally take years of work to settle or take to trial.”
“Wow. That sounds . . . intense.”
“Let’s just say Mom wasn’t around much while I was growing up.”
“She was around as much as she could manage,” Justice Grant adds. “Being a founding partner is no easy job, and we’ve always been very proud of her accomplishments.”
Ryker releases a harsh laugh. “I guess that’s one way to describe it.”
It seems there’s no love lost between mother and son . . . which seems strange, and none of my business. I try to change the subject.
“So, an entire family of lawyers. Are there more in the family tree, or is it just this branch?”
“My father and grandfather were also judges. My wife’s grandfather was a lawyer as well.”
“Wow. Family tradition then, it seems.”
“What about your parents, Justine?” The question comes from Ryker, not from Justice Grant. He already knows some of the details, including how they destroyed my credit by using my social security number before I even turned eighteen.
Looking down at the remaining liquor in my glass, I swirl it before sipping. When I look up, Ryker is watching me and waiting for an answer.
“We’re not close. I haven’t seen either of them since I was fifteen and my grandfather was awarded custody.”
“Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Sympathy is obvious on Ryker’s face, but I don’t want his pity.
“It’s no big deal. I just don’t talk about them because there’s nothing to say.”
I brace myself for more questions I don’t want to answer, but Ryker’s phone goes off in his pocket. He pulls it out and glances at the display with a frown.
“I need to take this. I’ll be back.” He strides out of the room before he answers.
What the hell?
“Would you like some more cognac?” Justice Grant asks as he reaches for the bottle.
“Please.” I hold out my glass for him to pour me another measure.
“So, do you care to tell me what’s going on with you and my son, because it appears there’s more happening than just studying?”
His forthright question is one I’ve been expecting, but still have no answer for.
“Umm. I— You know—” I stammer out words while I scramble to think of some explanation that would make sense. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on between us.
“Justine, it’s not a problem. I didn’t put any rules around our deal beyond those we discussed. If there’s more happening, I’m not going to say I’m unhappy about it. Quite the opposite. You’re a smart girl, and my son could do much worse.” He looks down at his drink. “In fact, he has done much worse. So bringing a girl like you home, one who I know is hardworking and dedicated to making her mark on the world, is far from a problem.”
“It’s going better than I anticipated. He’s smart, but you already knew that. I guess . . . I honestly didn’t expect to like him, and it’s kind of throwing me off. But there’s no need to worry. We’re not . . . together, like you’re thinking. We’re just friends. I have everything under control.”
“I have all the confidence in the world in you.”
Before I respond, Ryker returns to the room. “I hate to do this, but I have to go. A buddy of mine ran into some trouble and needs my help. I should be back in an hour.”
“Who is it?” Justice Grant asks.
“Ian. I’ll be quick.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Can I borrow the truck?”
The truck he was supposed to use to help me move. And now he’s borrowing it from his dad to help some friend late at night. Anger blooms inside me, rooted in bitterness and hurt. Why had he screwed me over when it came to something so important, especially after that night in the bar?
“Of course. Take the truck. Justine and I will have another drink, and then this old man is going to bed. I’ve got a big trial kicking off tomorrow morning, so I need to be ready.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Ryker looks at me. “Sorry about this. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If I don’t make it back before you go to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”
I stare up at him, and all I can think about is that damn truck and how quick he is to go to someone else’s rescue. “I think I’ll have another drink.”
Ryker’s eyes lock with mine, and he knows exactly what I’m thinking about. I think I see a flash of guilt on his face before he turns and leaves the room without saying another word.
Justice Grant pours me another large glass of cognac, and I savor it as the liquor pools in my belly while he answers my questions about his books.
My head is fuzzy by the time I make my way back up to the silver-and-purple room, but there’s one thing I’ve decided—there really is nothing happening between Ryker and me, and that’s the way things are going to stay.
Just. Business.