Thank the powers that be we got you into the public school district with the best AP offerings, because I definitely couldn’t afford the private academy the rest of us went to.Obviously, I didn’t say any of that. I just grinned at him, already proud no matter how worried I was at the same time.At least Yale has wrestling scholarships.
“Your grades are perfect,” I said when he didn’t respond, still just staring into his water like he wasn’t sure he believed me. “And you’re not just anyone. You’re a Thayer.”
He snorted. “Like that means anything these days.”
I opened my mouth, but thankfully, I was saved from having to lie when the waitress arrived to drop off our milkshakes. “Your burgers will be out in a few.”
She flitted away again and I watched as Wyatt leaned back, stretching his long legs out under the table and bringing his gaze up to mine. “It’s fine, Jane. I applied just like everybody else,and just like everybody else, I’ll find out if my application was successful in a few weeks.”
“Yeah, I guess. I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me read your entrance essay.”
He smirked. “Because you would have edited it to death.”
“Editing is an expression of love.”
He rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath as he shook his head. “I wanted them to hear my voice.”
“That’s probably a good thing. Your voice is brilliant. Much better than mine.” I meant that, too.
Wyatt was a phenomenal writer, honest and raw in ways business had never let me be. That was what he wanted to study. English. Literature. Entire worlds made of words that lived on endless shelves.
Sometimes, when I was exhausted, angry, or just done, I imagined a life for him far from here, free of the churning gears of the company business, legacy, and the mess our father had left behind.
In those daydreams, I imagined him in Ireland, living among green cliffs and old stone, attending Trinity for his postdoc and spending his life surrounded by dusty books, quiet libraries, and everything he loved.
A life where he doesn’t have to save anyone but himself.I wanted that for him so badly, I would do anything to make that dream come true.Absolutely fucking anything.
The burgers arrived, steaming and glorious, and Wyatt lit up like Christmas morning. I watched him devour the first one in three bites and told myself things were fine. That they would have to be fine, but if they weren’t, I had no idea how I was going to get him through Yale to Trinity.
I would eat nothing but saltine crackers for the rest of my life if it meant Wyatt got everything he deserved. I would sell our family home and every last antique, move all of us, my motherincluded, into some shitty row house in the bowels of Chicago, and I would do it gladly.
Anything to pour every remaining dime into his education, his freedom, and his chance at a life not chained to the fractured legacy of being a Thayer. Unfortunately, however, it would literally take every last dime to make it happen.
Frankly, we were pretty close to broke. Outside of Colin, my brothers didn’t know how bad it was and he only knew because he’d helped me decode the numbers when they’d stopped making sense. The others were blissfully ignorant and I was determined to keep it that way.
If they ever realized that my trust fund, the only one spared, was the only reason they were still in school and the only reason Thayer House was still ours, they’d fall apart. The whole structure of our family would collapse under guilt, fear, and panic.
Again.
I thought I would’ve had it fixed by now, but only because I thought I would actually earn a worthwhile salary as COO. Enough to put a dent in this mess, but nope. What I earned was appallingly low for someone in my position, but Thayer Steelworks was a sinking ship and I’d boarded it like an idiot, convinced I could patch every leak with hard work and loyalty.
Hard work did nothing. Loyalty even less. The pittance I made only stretched so far and I’d been trying to keep us living at the same level we’d been used to. Because my brothers deserved it and Mom…
Well, I don’t know what would become of her if she loses even more.
After dinner, Wyatt and I grabbed a cab home and he sprinted inside like he’d been released from captivity. He dropped his bag somewhere in the disaster zone that wasalso known as our hallway, and shouted over his shoulder, “Homework! Thanks for the burger.”
“Please take a shower!” I yelled after him. “You smell terrible.”
He didn’t respond, just thudding up the stairs, past the second floor, and onto the third-floor chaos he called a bedroom. Once I lost him to teenage land, the house felt unnervingly quiet.
I headed up to my own bedroom, slipped out of my work clothes, and tossed them onto the chair I would stop using as a laundry mountain someday. After changing into my comfiest sweats and my favorite oversized sweater, I sat on the edge of my bed to pull on my socks, and naturally, my mind picked that moment to betray me.
Finally alone, the tide of memories I’d been fighting back all day came surging into my brain, with Alex front and center. That clean, spicy, expensive scent he carried so effortlessly. His voice, deep and smooth, with the steady confidence of a man who didn’t flinch at responsibility.
The warm seat that had had, perhaps literally, saved my ass. And then, of course, there had been his hands, big and sure on the steering wheel, like the car would obey him and be grateful for the privilege.God.I’dobey him and be grateful for the privilege.
As soon as I had that thought, I snapped myself out of it. What iswrongwith me?
