“Imry will call me to have you get in touch if he can’t get through to you.”
“What if it’s an agent?”
“Have you called an agent?”
I wince and shake my head.
“Then they won’t be calling. No more unknown numbers, Felton. Understand?”
Honestly, I shouldn’t appreciate being told what to do quite so much. But even more tension melts away and I nod. “Yeah.”
More silence. Then the wind chimes’ song fills my head and I absently smile. When I open my eyes, I’m staring at the television screen split into four and my heart nearly stops. I’d forgotten we weren’t alone.
I sit up and look at Willits and Dasan with wide, horrified eyes. They’d seen all that. They’d witnessed my… Oh, my god!
“Shared blood doesn’t make a family,” Dasan says. “It makes you related. Family are those who make you feel safe, protected, cared for. Loved.”
Willits nods. “You’re safe here. We’ve got you.”
Honestly, I’m not a sap but fuck if tears don’t sting my eyes. In an effort not to sob like a baby, I close my eyes tightly and will them away. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“Want to talk about it?” Dasan asks.
“There’s nothing really to talk about. My father has made it clear that my four-year-old cousin’s participation trophy is a far more distinguished achievement than anything I’ve ever done and will ever do. Literally, I can donothingright. Nothing is good enough.”
“That’s bullshit,” Willits says, frowning.
I shrug. “I’ve lived with it my entire life. Now I have the ReachMe thing all over the internet?—”
“That they still haven’t proven without-a-doubt is you!” Willits cuts in.
I shrug again. “Yeah, and apparently it’s in the news that I’m suing my agent. I didn’t know that.”
“I saw it the other day,” Willits admits. “I thought you knew. Sorry; I would have warned you.”
“How did it get out?” I ask. “I haven’t told a soul.”
“I’ve already asked Imry to look into defamation as well. I have little doubt it’s leaked from their office,” Ren tells me. “I’m not sure what they’re hoping to accomplish, but Imry will strip them bare and expose all their dirty laundry if need be.”
“Did you hire a hitman?” Dasan asks.
Ren smirks. “No. A lawyer.”
“Imry?” Dasan asks. “What law firm is that? I need their number in my back pocket.”
“Who are you suing?” Willits asks.
Dasan shrugs. “No idea, but we’re athletes. I feel like it’s only a matter of time before someone wants what we have bad enough and will make some kind of bogus claim or attack.” He waves at me.
Ren nods. “Imry Van Doren. Van Doren Law. I think you can look up their number.”
Dasan and Willits stare at Ren.
“Goddamn,” Willits says. “My pockets aren’t that deep.”
“Yes, they are.” Dasan snickers. “But, dude, I’ve heard that people candisappearwhen they’ve wronged one of the Van Dorens’ clients. Like… how do they even get away with that?”
“Money talks,” Willits says, shrugging. “Honestly, I’d rather them be on my side than be against them if rumors are true.”
