Page 68 of Love at Second Down

My mother’s already inside when I yank open the door and slide onto the leather seat across from them. The interior smells like expensive cologne and new car—the Astor family signature. I keep my backpack on my lap like a shield, my fingers digging into the smooth material.

“Jackson, let’s go,” my father says to our driver, not even acknowledging that I’ve joined them. The partition window rollsup silently, sealing us in our own private hell as the car pulls away from the curb.

The thought of Damon waiting for me makes my chest tighten.

“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, staring out the window as Java the Hutt grows smaller in the distance.

My father doesn’t answer, his attention fixed on his phone, thumbs tapping out what’s undoubtedly another million-dollar email.

“What’s wrong, Dad? Afraid I’ll tuck and roll if I don’t like the destination?” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he mutters, then lifts his head, eyes shifting from his phone to meet mine with an intensity that makes me shrink back against the leather seat. “The Astor walkway collapse,” he says, his voice suddenly stripped of its usual arrogance. “We didn’t tell you everything.”

The air in the car seems to vanish. Those words hang between us like a physical thing, dark and heavy.

Mom reaches for my hand, but I pull away.

“There are some things you should know before you continue this . . .” Mom pauses, pursing her lips before she adds, “Whatever this is with the Huhn boy.”

The Huhn boy.The way she says it churns in my stomach like acid. He’s not a boy, and he’s certainly earned his name.

“Damon,” I correct.

“Right, Damon,” she says his name, mouth puckering like she ate something sour.

“Vinny Huhn knows,” my father says, his dark eyes heavy on my face when I turn to him. “We told you he was suspicious about what caused it, but it’s more than that. He knows I altered the design. He knows the collapse is my fault and could’ve been prevented, and he has the evidence to prove it.”

The world tilts sideways. I grip the edge of the leather seat, struggling to process his words.

“What evidence?” My voice sounds distant, even to my own ears.

My father’s jaw tightens. “Original blueprints. Emails. Cost analysis reports showing the changes I made to increase profit margins. He’s the reason we made you break it off with Damon. It was his stipulation to keep quiet.”

“Wait.” My brain hurts as I try to wrap my head around what he’s saying. “Are you telling me that Vinny Huhn blackmailed you?”

My father offers me a curt nod. “Break up with Damon or he’d go to the authorities with what he knew.”

I bring my hands to my temples. “He wouldn’t do that?”

My father scoffs. “You think I’d make it up?”

No? Yes? Maybe?

I don’t know what to think anymore.

“But six people died,” I whisper. It’s the number that’s been seared into my consciousness since the tragedy. “Six families were destroyed.”

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt,” he says, but there’s zero remorse in his voice, only indignation. “And we made sure those families were well compensated.”

A hiss of air escapes me, shocked at his cavalier attitude. “Not everything is about money.God.”I shake my head. It’s always the same with him—title, status, money—and I’m tired of it.

“If you start seeing him again—”

“What exactly will happen?” I ask, my gaze snapping to his. “Please, tell me. Will you get what’s coming to you? Because maybe you deserve to pay for what you—”

The slap of my mother’s hand stuns me into silence.

I stare at her, unblinking as her own gaze flashes with a rage I’ve rarely seen. “Don’t you dare,” she hisses. “You will not speak to your father that way. Not after everything he’s sacrificed for this family.”

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