"Is that what you're doing?" Jaren asks, his tone neutral.
"No!" The word comes out too fast. "At least... I don't think so. I genuinely want to help. When I was there after Christmas, I saw how rundown the place is, and I know they're tight on funding."
Jaren studies me. "Are you doing this for James or the kids?"
The question is one I should have been expecting, but it still surprises me. I know a month ago, I'd have answered differently.
"For the kids. But I wouldn't know about the place without James. He loves RHH, and I..." I swallow hard. "I love him. So I want to help."
Jaren nods, looking impressed. "That's pretty cool, Huntington." He stands, stretching. "I'll tell the guys to back off on the whole taking sides thing. You fix what you broke."
"Thanks."
As he reaches the door, he turns back. "For what it's worth, I think James would be an idiot not to give you another shot. You made a mistake, but at least you're trying to make it right. That's more than a lot of people do."
His words stick with me after he leaves. Opening my laptop again, returning to the "CH3 Potential Concerns" folder. Inside, I find a series of reports on James, his foster care history, notes from interviews with distant connections, and financial assessments. My stomach churns as I read how clinically they dissected his life.
The worst is an email thread between my father and someone named Richards—presumably his "investigator."
Subject: Re: Hunter Background
C—
As requested, focus on unstable home life and financial motivations. Subject has a history in the foster system (details attached). Currently independent but with minimal assets/income. Recommend leveraging CH3's insecurities about being used for family connections.
—R
Dad's reply is brief:Perfect. I'll handle it from here.
I head downstairs and make my resolution; it's after 1 am, but it should still count. I'm getting James back and cutting my father's puppet strings once and for all.
I getto Friday's frat meeting ten minutes early, completely on purpose, and grab a seat where I can watch James's usual spot without being obvious. Drew catches my eye as he sets up, giving me a knowing look, but mercifully, he says nothing.
Rechecking my phone kills about 30 seconds. The contractor confirmed everything is set for tomorrow, but my nerves are still jangling. What if James doesn't show up? What if he does, but won't even look at me?
"Nervous?" Drew asks quietly as he arranges papers beside me.
"No." It's automatic to lie when someone asks you a dumb question.
Drew raises an eyebrow.
"Fine. Yes. Is it that obvious?"
"Only to anyone with eyes." He straightens up. "Look, I'm not getting involved in... whatever this is. But as president, I havea vested interest in both of you being functional human beings again."
"We're functional,"
"James has been coding for 72 hours straight, and you've been walking around looking like someone kicked your puppy. That's not functional, Caleb."
Before I can respond, the brothers begin filtering in. Some give me sympathetic nods; others pretend everything's normal with painful, obvious obviousness. Cameron pats my shoulder as he passes, like I'm a terminal patient.
It's hard to keep my eyes on my phone until I sense rather than see James enter the room. He takes his usual seat, pointedly engrossed in conversation with Tyler.
Drew calls the meeting to order, but he clears his throat dramatically before diving into the agenda.
"Before we start, a new house rule. No moping in common areas. Take it to your rooms or take a walk. The collective sighing is affecting house morale."
Everyone looks pointedly at James and me.
