Page 99 of The Sculptor

“No matter what,” Vance agrees, his jaw clenched in determination. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Agreed,” Astor adds. “Now, let him see his son, Vance. My patience is wearing thin.”

A challenging grin emerges as Vance leans against the door. “You hear that, Duke? We’ve depleted our brother’s patience today. Looks like he’s on the mend.”

I swallow my laughter just as Astor shoves me into Vance. “Get in the fucking house.”

Vance doesn’t move to let me by. “I’ll talk to Remington first.” His tone dares me to argue, which, of course, I do.

“No. I want—”

He holds up his finger in that irritating way of his. “And while Iarguewith him, you’ll pour yourself a drink and wait for me downstairs.”

I pause, waiting for the catch.

“Remington is an adult.” He rolls his eyes. “Not a very good one, but he’s an adult all the same. If his irrational ass doesn’t want to see you, I’ll have to honor his decision.”

That’s not exactly comforting. Remington is a Potter and a Ford. Neither of those bloodlines are rational or forgiving. But there’s a chance.

“I understand, but…” I try not to grin. “Just in case… could you take Halle in there with you? She’s likely the only one he’ll consider.”

Vance grins. “You’re probably right.” Finally, he moves his arm, pulling Halle by the waist. “What d’ya say, Peach? Think you can charm the demon into talking?”

She sighs. “I can, but I’ll need a pack of smokes.”

It’s been an hour, and I’m on my second bourbon when Halle finally comes down the steps, her face red and puffy. “He’ll see you now.”

I spring up from the chair.

“But—”

I knew there was a catch. After all, this kid shares half my DNA.

“But…” I urge Halle to finish.

She offers me a sad smile. “He’ll hear you out. But once you’ve said your peace, he wants you to leave.” Tears slide down her face. “He doesn’t want to see you again.”

I feel like someone sucked all the oxygen from the room, stopping my breath. “I understand,” I manage to say. “I’ll respect his decision.”

Halle takes the final steps and pulls me in for another hug. “He’s just raw and vulnerable right now. He doesn’t know how to deal with this, so he’s lashing out.”

Neither of us says it, but lashing out is how he deals with most things when he’s in agoodmood. Remington in a bad mood is more than just lashing out. Like my brother, he’ll shut down.

“Vance is still with him”—she pulls back to look at me—“stitching up his hand.”

I rear back. “He’s hurt?”

Halle frowns. “Not as much as the mirror he punched.”

Ah. “Can I see him now?”

She gives me one last sympathetic look and then takes my hand. “Be patient with him. He’ll come around. He has a good heart. He just doesn’t want anyone to see it.”

Except for Halle and Vance. He lets them see his kindness.

I think of Ramsey with her beautiful morals and kindness—how she gave up her freedom to marry a man that possibly had information she could use to find her son. She was willing to do anything—even endure bruises to find him. And here I am, seeing him before she is.

“Could you do me one more favor?” I ask Halle.

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