“What about you? Does daddy have big plans for you, too?” I ask teasingly, instead of saying what really passed through my mind.
“He wants me to be a big-time lawyer. Easy feat, right?” He laughs at his own sarcasm.
“Is that what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. Haven’t you been listening? My family comes from a different breed than yours.”
“This conversation is ruining my buzz,” I chide, downing my drink again all in one go.
“You’re the one who started it.” He chuckles in amusement, picking up his glass and following suit.
Both of us stare at our empty glasses, trapped in our own wayward thoughts. I’m not sure where Jefferson’s mind takes him, but mine always fall into two categories of late. I’m either losing my mind over Scarlett or trying to decipher who the fuck is behind The Society.
Both topics give me migraines.
“Can I ask you a question?” I interrupt our silence, remembering the last time I saw him.
“Shoot.”
“Why were you concerned that Finn was dating Stone? Back at The Grind, you didn’t seem all that on board with their relationship.”
“Can you blame me? All the shit that happened to him once he started dating the Southie should be reason enough to think it was a bad idea. Walker had a bright future ahead of him. Everyone knew he was going pro next year, and that he was tight with his family. Now look at him.” He shakes his head as he takes a sip of his replenished drink. “Everyone hates him because he up and quit the football team. I mean, even his dad kicked him out of his house. He’s become a total pariah. And for what? Over a girl? Doesn’t make sense to me.”
“You make it sound like it was Stone’s fault that all that went down. She had jack shit to do with it all,” I retort defensively, feeling protective of Finn and his girlfriend.
I’m all about talking smack to people’s faces, but not behind their fucking backs where they can’t defend themselves. Jefferson should know me better by now.
“Don’t give me that look, East. You know I’m right.”
“You’re so in the wrong right now. Stone had nothing to do with bringing Finn down.”
“Oh, no? Then who did?” he asks with an unconvinced glower.
The Society, that’s who, motherfucker!
But I don’t say that. Jefferson might not be a total asshole, but he’s not in my inner circle either. Especially if he hangs around the likes of Tommyboy. Fuck. If Ken doesn’t even know about The Society meddling in our lives, no way in hell am I gonna have a heart-to-heart with her twin brother. That will be a hard pass, thank you very much.
“That’s what I thought,” he mumbles, taking my silence as an agreement for being right. “Walker was stupid to let it all go because of some Southie.”
His less-than-subtle way of expressing his thoughts about Finn’s girlfriend raises my hackles. It’s the second time he’s used Stone’s home region in a derogatory manner. The fuck if I’m letting that shit go unchecked.
“Careful there, Jeff. Your upscale white-privilege is showing. I gotta tell ya, if you disrespect my friend again, I won’t have words for you, just my left hook. You feel me?”
“Jesus. Sometimes I forget you’re a Yankee and that you tend to resolve shit with your fists. Meant nothing by it. Just saying how it is. No offense to the girl or anything. I’m sure she’s a real catch under all those tattoos of hers.”
“Fuck off, Jeff. You know what? If Stone were from the Northside, you’d be all over her. Don’t even try and play me.” I scoff, taking another large swig of my drink. “Besides, it doesn’t matter where Stone is from. Finn loves the shit out of her. That should count for something.”
The fucker has the audacity to actually roll his eyes at me in the same way Kennedy is so fond of doing.
“What does love have to do with anything? Every love story becomes a tragedy given enough time.”
“Spoken like a real cold-hearted bastard. Maybe Tommyboy has influenced you more than I gave him credit.”
“Or maybe I’m the one influencing him.” He throws me a cocky grin.
“You Rylands are all sorts of fucked-up in the head, you know that?”
“Not Kennedy. She’s the only one who isn’t,” he counters, dead serious.
Say what you will about Jefferson Ryland; he’s just another Asheville entitled prick, ready to sell his soul to climb the corporate ladder. But the fucker would move heaven and earth for his sister’s honor. Luckily for him, it’s his one redeeming quality I can get behind.
“You’re a good brother. Even if sometimes you talk out of your ass.”
“She’s my twin. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. Even hang out with two-timing pieces of shit just to make sure her reputation stays intact.”
“Ah-ha! So, the truth finally comes out. You hate Tommyboy just as much as we do, huh?”
“We? You mean you and the boys?” He cocks a brow, showing his sudden interest, but it doesn’t faze me any.
It’s not like I just gave away state secrets or anything. I hate Thomas Maxwell Jr. with every fiber of my being. I’d belt that shit out from the highest mountain top if I could, but I hardly think it would come as a surprise to anyone.
When I first moved to Asheville, that fucker and I spent most of our time in detention because we couldn’t keep our fists away from each other’s faces. He thought I was gutter trash, and I thought he was a spoiled prick. We might have outgrown our brawling phase, but every once in a while, the urge to break his pretty face is all too tempting.
Colt and Lincoln have other reasons to hate the senator’s son. All of which has to do with Jeff’s sister. If Jefferson wants to play the naive card regarding our animosity for his soon-to-be brother-in-law, that’s his prerogative. No skin off my back either way.
“All I’m saying is, if Tommyboy took a long walk off a short pier, I wouldn’t waste much sleep over the loss.”
“Pretty dark thing to say.”
“I’m a pretty dark guy, Jeff.” I wink at him.
“Whatever. As long as Thomas is good to my sister, treats her right, and gives her a bright future, I’m fine with him. As long as Kennedy is happy, then I’m happy.”
“What if her happiness were with someone else?” I throw at him, wondering just how much he’ll be able to deny with a straight face.
His immediate frown tells me he’s not as blind as he acts out to be.
“It’s not,” he deadpans.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because my sister would have confided in me if it were.”
“Siblings have been known to keep secrets from one another.” I smirk, unable to stop myself from provoking Jefferson, until his cheeks turn every color in the crayon box.
“That might be so, but not Kennedy. She has never kept anything from me in her entire life. She won’t start now.”