Page 66 of Stutter

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know you and Riordan were close once.” I look over my shoulder to see Andrew Mikaelson, a former teammate and Sigma Delta Chi frat brother. He graduated three years ago after my freshman year. He looks good. Dirty blonde hair, blue-green hazel eyes, a strong, clean-shaven jaw. I don’t remember seeing him at the last gathering but then again, I wasn’t really looking. I also tend to leave as soon as I can without a backwards glance.

At least he sounds sincere. “It wasn’t always great, but it wasn’t always terrible, either.” I turn to face him. “You look really tan.”

He grins, all white, perfect teeth. “Yeah, I was in Bermuda for work, I just got back a few months ago before hurricane season hit.”

I try to reach for what his family does, but they’re so low on the pole I can’t remember. “What is it you do again?”

“Oh, corporate financing for companies that either buy out smaller companies or merge with another. I was in London before Bermuda. Before that I was in Australia. Only flying in for initiations since they’re so infrequent.”

I nod. “That’s right. Sorry. I just haven’t seen you in a while.”

He shrugs as much as the tight peacoat he’s wearing will let him, shoving his hands in the pockets and burying his face inthe scarf around his neck, surely having forgotten how cold the winters get here. “That’s all right. I don’t think we really talked much before except at practice. And that was mostly grunts, roasts, and calls.”

He’s right. We didn’t ever really talk. We both see the Elders stepping away from each other and the older Mikaelson, not an elder but still his father, and mine, walk toward us. They look almost identical except Mr. Mikaelson has brown hair and isn’t tan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Mikaelson has a slight Swedish accent, having been born here but raised in Sweden and returned to attend Rayne-Moore.

“Ah, Jonas. How good to see you.” He says, extending his hand. Yup, there it is.

I shake it, firmly. “Mr. Mikaelson, likewise. Father.” I nod to my dad.

“Jonas. I suspect you’ve spoken to your mother?”

I flash him my sweetest smile. “Unless Raven takes the phone from me so she can talk to her, yes, I’ve talked to her.”

Dad’s eyes that look like mine but aren’t, glimmer. He loves Raven, too. He’s just… wary of everyone. With her episodes and mine, I’m sure he thinks we’re a fucking catastrophe waiting to happen. I miss George. He’d say the right thing about my relationship – fuckingnothing.

“Come, son. Let’s get a move on, the sooner this ends, the better. I’d like to fu- uh,seemy wife before I have to leave again.”

I grimace but hey, as long as I don’t see it, whatever.

We tilt our heads to the Mikaelson’s and head to the Audi since he was dropped off by Towne Car. Once we’re in the safety of the Audi with no extra ears listening, he takes off his gloves and we begin our journey to the Prescott estate.

“How is my future daughter-in-law?” he asks.

“She’s great. Getting better every day.”

“And you? How are you dealing with Riordan’s death?”

I blow the air out of my lungs. “Do you really want the truth, or do you want the lie?”

“Well, the lie is always much more interesting. Let’s go with that one first.” He answers, looking out the windshield.

“Alright. I’m not fine with it.”

“See? Interesting.”

“Dad, there is so much happening.” I can see him looking at me from my peripheral, but I keep my eyes on the traffic ahead, the red lights blinking through the snow now falling. I hope I don’t get stuck out here and have to stay at the estate.

“We have twenty minutes or so before we arrive. Paraphrase it for me, son.”

I groan.

“Okay then, since you’re being so forthcoming, does this have anything to do as to why Ivan is following you?”

“You know about that?”

“Did I notice my wife’s most trusted bodyguard is being paid double since Thanksgiving, and hasn’t been around just as long? Yes, I do know about that.”

I groan again but this time inwardly and let myself think of a way to tell him everything without incriminating ourselves. When I’m done talking, we’re at the old brownstone mansion and I’m parking in the long circular driveway behind a dozen other luxurious vehicles.

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