Chapter 176

Grayson didn’t like to think about it often.

It was raining the night his parents died. He had been studying for a huge exam, and per usual, was left alone with the butler. He had spent most of his life raised by the man while his parents were traveling here and there for business. Occasionally, there came a summer when they would take time off work to spend with him and those were the only times Grayson knew what it was like to have a family. But even still, he spent most nights looking out the window, imagining they would pull up in a taxi and strut up to the door to surprise him.

Once or twice in his life, it happened. Once, the day before his birthday, and again when their project overseas went South and they had to return home for a few weeks to re-evaluate things.

That night had been like any other. He had just finished up studying and prepared for bed. Per usual, he sat at his bedroom window and looked out upon the pouring rain, imagining that yellow taxi pulling up to his curb. He never expected it would, but when a different car arrived, Grayson felt his heart go wild at the prospect of his parents coming home.

It was not his parents, but rather, the police who informed him of their death.

A car crash. While they were on their way to the airport. They had planned to come home and surprise him after all.

It felt like a cruel joke and for days, Grayson didn’t leave his room. He stopped looking out the window, and he stopped studying his textbooks.

And after a few days of heartache, a second knock came at his door. The butler opened it to find Asher standing there, his parents at either side. They had been good friends—felt they owed it to Grayson’s parents to look after him. He didn’t care at that very moment who took him in or what kind of life he was doomed to have from there out.

But he settled into Asher’s home fine. It was not as grandiose as his previous home, but it was comfortable and luxurious, and he found it pleasant to have parental figures around most of the time. They loved Grayson and indulged in his talents, often asking him to play the piano for them, or fiddle a tune on his violin while they read or worked or simply relaxed after a long day of work. Their affections were pleasant, and Grayson felt himself blooming again, opening up to the world, healing from his loss.

Things weren’t the same for Asher. For some reason, those people hated him.

Grayson didn’t know why, but he didn’t exactly wonder, either. Asher wasn’t the most pleasant guy—never had been. He was grouchy and pessimistic and he hated everyone and everything. Grayson was impervious to the angry cloud he carried around. He saw through it—knew Asher was just a guy with troubled feelings and loved him as a brother. And Asher loved him back.

But it was not always so easy, living in that place with him. Fights with his parents usually resulted in physical altercations—a slap on the face, a grab of hair, a shove and a shout to go to his room. But one night in particular, things had gotten entirely out of hand.

Grayson had come downstairs to the sound of screaming. He found Asher on the foyer below, standing next to the shattered remains of an antique vase. He was always doing things he shouldn’t have—always playing rough in the house when his parents asked him not to. But this one particular incident had been enough to break the camel’s back. He recalled the sound of his mother’s voice as she snapped to her husband, “He’s your son. Do something.”

And Grayson watched in horror as he snatched Asher by arm and dragged him out toward the back—which usually meant he was to be beat with an old gas cord. This time, something went awry. Asher had fought his father, refusing to go with. And in one last attempt to subdue his son, his father took the nearest object—a glass of ice water—and tossed it at him. It drenched Asher, who tore lose from his father’s hold and stumbled backward. And with one hard slap from his father, Asher was sent reeling, slipping on the ice.

He cracked his head on the stone floor and Grayson distinctly recalled the whomp he heard as he hit the ground. Without a beat of hesitation, he ran to his room and called for an ambulance.

He was never questioned about what had happened that evening, but Grayson supposed that was just how the wealthy ran the world—without ever facing repercussions for their actions. It was an incident, after all. They had never meant to damage their son—just to hurt him a little, which still sparked an anger in Grayson that he held firmly throughout the years.

He hadn’t deserved it. Asher was a good guy—just with bad habits.

“I thought after nearly killing their son, they would start to appreciate him a little more,” Grayson explained while he watched the mist in Cecilia’s eyes build and build. “I guess not, cause it never stopped. That’s why he got himself emancipated at sixteen. Lived the rest of his childhood in an apartment near the school grounds.”

Cecilia sniffled and looked down at her latte. “I don’t understand how a parent could be so cruel. My mother would never…”

“Why do you think we’ve all grown so attached to her?” Grayson said with a small laugh. “Asher’s parents treated him like a dog. Mine died. Ryan’s just use him for money and forget about his existence. Sebastian…I guess his parents are pretty normal, but they’re thousands of miles away. None of us have had a mother in a long time until we met yours.”

Cecilia seemed warmed at the thought. She blinked back the tears in her eyes and took a deep breath. “She would be very happy to hear you say that.”

Grayson shrugged a little, his hands wrapping around his warm mug. “I just had to get it off my chest. I’m angry—angry he could be dying right now and it would be all because of them.”

“Do they know he’s in the hospital?” Cecilia asked.

Grayson shook his head. “Asher once told me if anything ever happened to him, to keep them far, far away. He doesn’t want them in his life anymore. I have to respect that.”

Cecilia nodded. “What about you? Do you still talk to them?’

“Now and then,” said Grayson. “I truly did love them like parents. And they made it very clear they loved me too. But they didn’t feel that way about their own son and…it was just messed up. They wondered why he was always such a pain, such a troublemaker. That was why. Because they treated him like a problem. Like he was nothing more than a thorn in their side. I had always kind of resented him until I knew.”

“How come?” asked Cecilia.

“Even when they were alive, my parents weren’t around much. They were good parents, but…you know. Didn’t always have them when I needed them.”

She reached across the table for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Grayson.”

“Despite that, he never hated me for it,” Grayson said. “His parents treated me so well and him so terribly, and he never hated me. He was still protective. Still looked out for me all the time, you know?” Slowly, he sunk into his hands and said, “I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it.”

“It’ll be okay,” Cecilia was assuring him, squeezing him gently by the fingers. “You can’t think like that. We have to keep our chins up. He’ll pull through, Grayson. Just wait.”

Grayson nodded. He knew she was right, but it was easier said than done. He kept imagining the last of his family slipping through his fingers. Asher was all he had now…besides Cecilia. He couldn’t lose him like he’d lost the others.

Suddenly, Cecilia’s phone began to ring. He straightened out at the sound and looked across the table at her as she answered it and muttered a brief apology. Grayson couldn’t hear much, but he did catch several words slipping through the speaker as she held it to her ear. “Test” and “results” whispered through and he watched as Cecilia cupped the phone discretely and muttered into the line, “Oh, wow. I appreciate that…Yes, please. Now?” She hesitated, her eyes flashing to Grayson. Then she muttered, “Yeah, now is a good time.”

The next whispers were unintelligible, but as she listened, Cecilia went stiff. Her eyes widened and she clutched the phone a little tighter.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she pulled the phone from her face without hanging up. Grayson heard a click as the line went dead and the dial tone rang on.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”