Page 17 of Notes of Attraction

“Because the wording is clear. Pass or no release. There is no ‘I tried’.” He mocks the last part, and it’s not the first time in my life he’s mocked or doubted me. That was when I was twelve, and he made very sure I understood how much he disapproved. Something lodges in my throat. I swallow it down with the coffee.

I really wish I could punch my own father in the face. I bet I could beat him in a fight.

“I’m passing, yep.” I grin.

Drew pauses, his sandwich midair. “Grandpa really wanted us all to suffer at school, huh? He couldn’t just let us get our Trust and decide what to do with it ourselves. I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone having to do college first.”

Dad sets down his coffee. Here we go.

“Your grandfather worked extremely hard for this family,” he says. “His greatest regret was that he couldn’t afford higher education himself. That is why he encouraged me to become a surgeon. He has given both of you an extraordinary opportunity and a sizeable Trust to accompany it, and I would not”—his stare sharpens—”Andrew Fox, be so ungrateful if I were you.”

Ah, nothing brings a family together like inherited money and unresolved resentment.

“And you!” He points at me.

I hold my hands up. “Never said anything.”

“You should be grateful you even had the chance to attend a school as prestigious as UMS. I had to let Garrett win over eighteen holes to make that happen. You’re welcome.”

He says it like he traded a kidney rather than deliberately losing a round of golf.

I finish the coffee.

“I should get going,” I say, pushing away from the counter. “A hard working student like me has reading to do.”

I stand and salute Drew. I put the cup in the sink, Drew gives me the half-salute, and I’m out the door.

My jaw doesn’t relax until the Fox house is out of the rearview.

* * *

The group chat has been exploding all afternoon, making me miss the guys—and LA—so fucking much it aches.

I remind myself why I’m here.

Pass the year. Get the first installment of the Trust. Pay the boys back. Start writing together again. Become the greatest fucking band in the world.

Easy.