Page 31 of Point of Contention

My stomach twisted, then sank heavily to the floor.

Greer placed her phone screen-side down on the table and crossed her arms.

Why did this feel like I was about to get reamed by my parents for staying out past curfew?

“Honey,” my mom said as she placed her hand on top of mine. “Len would like to talk to you about Cabot.”

My heart stuttered in my chest as the walls began closing in around me.

As much as I loved these three people, I did not want to discuss Cabot.

Or our not-relationship.

Or the shit we got up to in the Rabbit Hole.

No thank you very much.

I began to shake my head—

“I bet you don’t know this, but I taught Cabot while he attended Columbia.”

I stiffened. My mouth wanted desperately to drop open, but I held it firmly shut while I tried to make sense of what he’d just said, and where this might be going. When my mouth did finally open, something about this moment made me lie. “Yes, he told me.”

I don’t know why the words left my lips, but it was too late to take them back.

Professor Clements nodded slowly. “We were close. For a time.”

Okay.

“Halfway through his third year, he…” The professor’s bushy gray eyebrows furrowed and he frowned. “Well, he found himself in some trouble.”

The muscles tightened across my back and my spine itched with the discomfort of this conversation. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to sit through it. I hated the way they all watched me, cautious, like this was some odd intervention.

Also? I resented the hell out of the fact that Len Clements knew more about Cabot than I did.

Resented that he intended to use that knowledge against me now. Because I had no doubt this conversation was about to take a turn.

I looked at my mom, then Greer. Both of them watched me closely, intent as they observed this conversation, but… neither of them looked surprised by this information.

Greer’s grandfather and my Cabot had been connected at some point in their pasts, which should have come as a shock to all of us, but I was the only one feeling upended.

They’d already discussed this without me.

Jesus, this actually was an intervention, wasn’t it?

Pulling my hand free from beneath my mom’s on the table, I leaned back and crossed my arms.

“His father pulled some strings, paid some people off”—the professor waved his hand in the air— “and the story disappeared.” His eyes narrowed on mine. “Cabot graduated top of his class as expected, Summa cum Laude, valedictorian…”

Pride over Cabot’s accomplishments swelled in my chest, but I didn’t let them see it in my expression. I would have loved to know him back then… what would it have been like to attend Columbia at the same time as young Cabot Reed?

I bet he was striking. Intimidating. Powerful.

Pushing the distracting thoughts of him aside, I focused on the professor and waited to see where this story was headed.

“It seemed all had forgotten about his little incident.”

I tightened my jaw.

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