Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
23
Payton
Days have passed,and just as I suspected, the image haunts me.
Trent naked.
Yeah, it’s all I think about.
I’m doing a crappy job of studying. Heck, I’m doing an even crappier job at just existing with his picture in my mind. If Trent really wanted to kill my academic career, he should’ve skipped the chores and extra homework and gone straight to the nudity.
The only saving grace is he hasn’t been around much to taunt me further.
Like this moment.
I’m back at the Cresthill facility. But unlike most days that I’m here, he’s not.
He dropped me off and left me standing on the corner of the street to find my way in. My cheeks colored red, but I stood tall. This would mean there would be no toilets to clean.
Without Trent here to micromanage me, I’m able to spend time with the residents instead of burning my hands with cleaning products.
I look around the room, searching for someone to talk to. A conversation will help me stop thinking of lickable abs. Okay, that’s not the body part I’m thinking about.
Sue me.
That’s when I see the man who called me Trent’s girl. Henry.
I’ve since seen Trent with him. Often.
Maybe he knows something useful about the man who holds my life in his hands.
Any piece of information will help me.
There’s a deadline looming. I need to ask Trent for money to give to my sister today. Maybe, just maybe, Henry can give me info I can use to barter with Trent.
I cross the space and take the empty seat across from him.
“I hope it’s okay I sit here.”
“Pretty lady like you is always welcome.” He smiles, and that makes me laugh.
I never knew my grandparents, but in my imagination, mine would be just like him.
A flirt like my sister.
Not like me.
She’s the only family I remember well.
Our parents died when I was only six years old. Payton was eighteen and raised me.
I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, which is why I am now trying to pilfer information off Henry to get money for her. Even if I have to use the fact that he thinks I’m Trent’s girl to get the info.
“Henry, right? I’m Payton. I just started helping out here.” My voice is soft as I flash him a smile.
“I saw you,” he says, chocolate brown eyes finding mine.
They are deep. Probably filled with great stories and anecdotes only a person of his age would have. Probably the reason Trent spends so much time with him. From what I can tell from Trent, he didn’t have a relationship with his dad. Maybe Henry was the father figure he went to.
I’m banking on it.
“You’re Trent’s girl,” he finishes, and I nod, forcing the guilt to roll off my shoulders.
There is no need to correct him. If I do, I run the risk he’ll clam up.
I place my elbows on the table and lean in.
“So, you’ve known Trent for a while . . .” I lead, hoping he divulges some useful information.
“Pretty long. About two years, maybe. However long this place has been open.”
“Oh, wow, really?”
It comes as a surprise to me. I didn’t realize Trent had been volunteering here this long.
“Yep.” His lips part and he grins widely at me.
It’s obvious this man cares deeply for Trent. That Trent is important to him. My stomach drops at the thought. I’m a horrible person. How can I try to take advantage of him?
“I didn’t realize he’s—” I stop myself.
I don’t want to say anything that will make him think I don’t know Trent well. I may feel bad pressing him, but I also don’t want to upset him by making it obvious what I intended to do.
I change directions. “I didn’t realize he comes here so much. That’s nice.”
“It’s more than nice. He’s here almost every day, visiting.”
That is news. But instead, I keep smiling and pretend I know all of this.
“It’s amazing of him that he finds time. He’s so busy at work,” I say.
“He says the location is close to his office, but I’m not geographically challenged. I know Cresthill is at the very edge of the city, and he’s not. That traffic is a bitch when he comes. I’m thankful that he tries to stop by every day for a game of cards.”
I cock my head to the side.
“You like to play?” I ask.
He beams at my question. The deep lines on his face grow larger. “Love it.”
“That’s how you and Trent bonded?”
“Yeah, Trent plays poker. He’s good. But not as good as me.”
“Do you guys play for money?”
He narrows his eyes on me. “Nope. Trent doesn’t believe in gambling for money.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. What a dumb question. Of course, Trent doesn’t play for cash, not after what his father did. I should have known this, and Henry is probably wondering why I didn’t.
“Doesn’t matter,” Henry finally says. “It’s still fun, regardless. I’m simply happy for the company.”
He looks away from me. A faraway look consumes his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I was just thinking.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He tilts his head and stares. “I guess . . . Trent trusts you after all.”
I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut with the lie that’s lodged in my throat, threatening to choke me, but my instincts tell me it’s worth it for Henry to open up to me.
“You can tell me anything.” I pause, feeling so much guilt but laying it on thick anyway. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“My son,” he whispers. It’s a haunted, broken sound.
“What about your son?”
“We had a falling out, and my son”—Henry shakes his head—“he won’t talk to me.”
“Have you tried to reach out to him?”
He nods. “I have, but I don’t know where he is anymore. We lost touch, and every day I’m here, I wonder how much time I have left. I’m not the same man I once was . . . I have regrets. I don’t want to die without righting my wrongs.”
I reach for his hand and squeeze it, gentling my voice. “Tell me about your son.”
And this time, I forget about my mission.
This is one hundred percent about the broken man in front of me. The one I find a kindred soul.
Henry spends the next hour telling me all about his son. The good times. The tough times. The falling out. Every now and then, he stops, and it looks like he will cry.
It breaks my heart, and I know I must do something.
Tell someone.
An hour later, I settle on an answer. One that isn’t my first choice but is the best option we have.
I get back in the car with Trent when he picks me up.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.” He sighs.
If it were up to him, I’d probably never speak.
Well, that’s not true.
In a couple of weeks, he expects me to speak in front of his staff on the information I have turned in.
I can’t believe I’m going to have to do that.
Not the point.
“It’s about Henry.”
“What about him?” He glances quickly at me while he navigates traffic.
Now that I have his attention, I can see the concern. It’s obvious that he cares greatly for the man.
My gut tells me after Ronald showed his true colors, Henry replaced him as a father figure in his life.
“He doesn’t seem okay.”
Trent pulls over, double-parking in front of a cop car without a care in the world. His head turns to me fully. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are wide.
“Why? Did he look sick?”
“Um, no.” I try to stay calm. “Is he sick?”
Trent looks away, and I think maybe Henry is, but that’s not why I’m talking to Trent about him. And if he is sick, then what I have to say is even more important.
“He misses his son,” I blurt out when it’s clear Trent isn’t going to talk. “He doesn’t know where he is. I think we need to find him.”
He looks back at me, relief sinking into his body for a moment. His shoulders relax. He leans against the plush leather seat. There’s a softness to him I’ve never seen before, one that I’d consider fondness if I weren’t so unused to any positive emotion from him.
Then all at once, his brows raise, and he looks back at the road with wide eyes. He starts the engine again, veering onto the road so fast, it’s like he’s crazed.
“We?” He speeds. “There is no we. Henry is not your problem.”
I’m not sure why he snaps at me, but it does shut me up. Too bad it can’t stop my heart from wanting to break free of my chest. It wants to run straight to Trent and fix him.
He isn’t yours to fix.