Page 80 of Bad Boy
I won’t apologize for my language or my jokes. I realize I can be a “love me or hate me” type of person. And it’s really up to them which they choose. Not me.
After my outburst, I keep quiet and finish my meal. Robert and Sean have been schmoozing Gramps the entire time, and it’s getting kind of annoying. I can see why it’s been a while since he’s come over to see hisneighbors. They’re a lot to handle. And from what I can tell, Gramps is just a homebody now.
Mom has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire night, which is somewhat strange. I can tell this whole situation makes her uncomfortable. This is exactly the type of environment she ran away from. It doesn’t help that she’s at least a decade younger than Diana and Kendra.
When everyone finishes dinner, the chef brings out an entire cart full of dessert. And it’s all pie—from pumpkin to cherry and even pecan.
I settle on a piece of classic apple with a heaping scoop of ice cream.
As everyone settles in with pie and after-dinner espressos, Robert stands from his spot at the head of the table and dings his wine glass with a butter knife. We quiet, giving him our full attention.
“I want to thank you all for coming. It’s been a great evening spent with great company. And before we all part ways for the night, I’d like to announce something very exciting, for all of our families. As we know, reconnecting and growing relationships is an integral part of life and business. So, with that being said—in addition to welcoming Raina and Remi to Hunter Springs—Diana, Sean, Kendra, and I would like to announce the official courtship of Lincoln James and Sierra Marie. With the intention of an engagement upon Sierra’s high school completion and enrollment into Columbia alongside Lincoln. We’ll have a grand wedding after college. But I’m getting ahead of myself,” he chuckles like he’s not completely controlling and destroying his son’s life in one shitty fucking speech.
Jesus Christ.
They’ve planned their childrens’ entire futures. And judging by the wide-eyed girl in front of me, neither of them had a clue. I know Linc wouldn’t have kept this from me. The thought doesn’t even cross my mind.
“With Anderson Holdings and Walker Industries inevitably merging into one, and the budding friendship between our boys, Richard, I hope you will strongly consider coming into business with us. Allow us to purchase majority ownership of a few of your key businesses. Let us show you what we can do. How we can potentially double profits in the first year alone. And Sean can look into any possible corruption. You need help, Richard. And we can provide that. If you’ll let us.”
So selfish. They don’t care about Lincoln or Sierra’s happiness. They don’t care about Gramps. They just care about his businesses. His money.
And securing their own future.
Gramps looks uncomfortable. Mom looks a little upset—probably feeling empathy for Sierra. Grady looks bewildered, and Sierra is shell-shocked. But Linc. . . I turn my head to the boy next to me. His jaw is clenched tightly as he stares vacantly at the untouched pumpkin pie on his plate.
He’s already checked out, and that worries me.
But I do know my place. Sometimes. When it’s important. And right now isn’t the time for me to speak up. No matter how badly I want to. This goes way beyond what I can handle, so for now, all I can do is reach under the table and give his leg a reassuring squeeze. Let him know I’m here for him.
We’ll figure this out.
Together.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
LINC
After everyone went home, including Remi, I retreated to my room. To the relative comfort of familiar darkness. But nothing can take my mind off what my parents announced at dinner.
A courtship. With a girl. And not just any girl. My best friend who’s more like my sister.
I’ve finally started to live my life and embrace who I truly am, and they throwthisat me? Without any warning? Or even the courtesy of a simple discussion. Then they just leave and go to Asheville for the night.
Why am I even surprised?
I didn’t miss the deep concern swimming in Remi’s eyes when I said I was tired and wanted to go to bed. Alone.
I know he wanted to stay, and I wish I had let him. I can’t stop tossing and turning as negative thoughts consume me—telling me I can’t be who I want, love who I want, or even have the future I want.
It’s all controlled bythem.
Hatred for my own parents churns in my gut. It’s a seething, swarming mess of emotions. I can’t pretend anymore. Pretend to be this perfect son with every aspect of his future mapped out. An engagement with Sierra. Columbia. Marriage. Take over the family business. Produce the next generation of Andersons.
The thought of actually living this lie makes me sick. I clamber out of bed and rush for the bathroom, turning the faucet to cool. I cup my hands underneath, drinking handful after handful until the need to throw up recedes.
I can’t live my life for them.
What’s the point?
