Page 17 of Hush Money
He chuckles.
“You hate your name?” he asks. But when he sees that my expression hasn’t changed, he grows a little more serious.
“I, uh…I don’t know. I guess it just carries some not-so-fun baggage with it. It just…it never felt like it fit me.”
I wait for him to ask me more questions. But instead, he just looks at me. His eyes look over my face so much that I start to feel a little self-conscious—as if sitting with a billionaire fifteen-year-old boy doesn’t do that enough already.
“Okay,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the back of the bench. “What can I call you, then?”
I look at him. That’s it? No interrogation? No nothing?
I swallow.
“Umm…Evie,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my hair. “It’s what my Nan calls me. She’s the only one who does. My mom says it’s childish. She says Genevieve carries a little more, I don’t know…seriousness…to it. But I don’t much care. Evie is really the only name that ever made me feel like me. But my mom refuses to call me anything but Genevieve.”
He thinks for a minute, his lips moving from side to side. Then, he sticks out his hand to me.
“It’s nice to meet you, Evie,” he says with a smile. I can’t help but smile back as I take it. “Now, let’s get you back for sixth period.”
KEATON
Iturn the shower on hot then double back to turn the dial down. I know she’s going through the wringer right now, butGod,she’s so fucking beautiful. And this close proximity, those big green eyes, the way she is in distress but still stays so kind…fuck.And the way her hair still smells the same. The way she smiles at me. The way she makes me feel like she needs me.
Apparently, my cock thinks I’m fifteen again. The way I have had to position myself is embarrassing.
I swipe a hand down my face.
Get it together. She’s struggling, you dick.
I stare at my face in the mirror.
I have always been the odd one out, looks-wise, despite Brooks only being our half-brother.
I have gray eyes, unlike both of my brothers’ deep-brown ones. I also got my mom’s sandy hair rather than their dark-brown locks. Lately, when I look at my reflection, I feelold.I see an unfulfilled, jaded man looking back at me.
But right now, I see something in my own eyes that I haven’t in a really long time: hope. And that’s a beautiful, scary thing.I have to remind myself that she had the chance to be with me before, and she didn’t take it.
I have to remind myself that she chosehim.
I have to remind myself that she’s vulnerable, and lost, and not in a good place.
But I can’t seem to remember any of that any time she’s looked at me over the last twenty-four hours.
All I see is her.
I get into the cold shower and swipe a hand over my face. I almost laugh as I look down at my raging hard-on.
Fuck me.
After my very long,very cold shower that didn’t stop me from coming twice while thinking about her, I get dressed and make my way back out into the living room. I expect to see her, but she’s gone. I look around, walking down the halls, until I find the door to the study open. I walk toward the open door and peek inside. I see her, wrapped in the same blanket we slept under last night, staring down at a frame on the desk. I swallow audibly when I realize what picture she’s looking at.
She lifts her eyes to me from across the room.
“You…you kept this?” she asks.
Without even looking back down at the picture, I nod, walking toward her and picking it up. I smile when I look at it. I can’t even help it.
“Always,” I say, setting it back down. It’s a photo of us at our high school graduation. She’s on my back, holding her cap in one hand, her other arm wrapped around me. And she’s kissing my cheek as I hoist her into the sky.
