Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Ian took the empty cup from my hand and sniffed it. “It’s water,” he said.
As the silence grew, it suddenly clicked for me. The way Grant only drank from the special bottles he ordered—the ones with labels no one could read. The way he’d gone inside right after I’d handed him a cup of the signature drink. And had I seen him drinking champagne when we toasted Theo’s contest win? He’d held a glass, but I couldn’t remember him taking a sip.
Grant, the loud, obnoxious frat bro who acted sloppy drunk at every single party, didn’t drink.
And now all his brothers were staring at him.
My mind raced. How many times had I felt different from everyone else? From the kids in my high school who didn’t have to take care of an aging grandparent. From my peers here at the university who could focus on their classes without holding down multiple jobs.
I, of all people knew, how hard it was to be different.
And now Grant did, too.
Then I rushed forward, addressing my words to Grant. “I’m so sorry! I knocked your drink over before. But when I went inside to make you another one, I couldn’t remember exactly how to make it, so I filled your cup with water. I was going to get Ian to show me the recipe and replace it before you noticed, but I didn’t have time”
Ian glanced at me side-eyed, knowing full well that I knew how to make the drink, but everyone else’s attention was still on Grant.
“No harm done, Hailey,” he said finally.
Then Bennett spoke up. “Guess it’s too much to expect beauty and brains.”
People laughed, and I flushed, looking down. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that not everyone had laughed. Three men hadn’t.
“Sorry,” I said again and retreated to the kitchen.
I didn’t come out until the food was ready, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to miss the chance to eat something someone else had prepared. The steaks were amazing, rare and juicy, and they didn’t even taste like burnt towel. I sat with Theo and Ian and had a good time.
But my mind kept returning to what I’d learned about Grant.
Naturally, I was left with a mess in the kitchen, though at least we’d used paper plates for the food. The other women had left, and all the men were downstairs in the ritual room, or so I thought.
I turned away from the sink just in time to see Grant step into the kitchen, pausing just inside the door.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, as if I’d been the one to approach him instead of the other way around.
“All right.”
He didn’t say anything else, just held my gaze for a few more seconds. He turned to go, and I thought that was that. But he paused before leaving, his back to me. “Thank you.”
Then he was gone.
19
HAILEY
It was quite late when I finally shut down my laptop and stretched my stiff shoulders. I’d studied longer than I meant to, and if I was being honest with myself, I was kind of hoping that Night Owl would text. He was always the one that initiated our chats but somehow, it kind of worked for us. I didn’t know what he was doing at any given moment, but he likely knew if the light in my room was on or not.
But it was past two and he hadn’t messaged, so it seemed like he wasn’t going to.
I reached for my pajamas then froze at the quiet knock at the door. For a wild moment, I wondered if Night Owl had finally decided to reveal himself—and if so, why now.
But that was reading too much into the situation. For all I knew, it was Bennett out there wanting me to shine his shoes or something.
Pulling my robe tightly around me, I crept to the door and opened it.
Ian stood there, dressed in jeans and a tight green t-shirt.
“Ian?”
“Hailey,” he said, sounding almost surprised to find me here. In my own room. In the middle of the night. What on earth was going on?
Then I got a closer look at his haggard face. “Are you all right?”
“Theo took a sleeping pill, so I can’t wake him, and—”
My blood ran cold. “He overdosed?”
“No, of course not,” he said, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. “He just hasn’t been sleeping well since he won that contest, so I can’t go to him, and Grant’s not in his room. I don’t know where he is, and—”
I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He blinked and it seemed like it took a great effort for him to focus. “It’s John, my advisor. He had a stroke,” he managed to get out, his face ashen. “Will you come to the hospital with me?”