Tell Me It’s Right (Sweetspire #1)

Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

LIAM

My calendar is a mess with all the rescheduling we’ve had to do lately. I’m just lucky my clients were willing to be so flexible with me. That many cancelations would’ve been a serious hit this month. Poor Gracie’s been running around like a glorified personal assistant all week trying to keep me organized. And if she hadn’t slipped out during my previous client to grab a coffee and sandwich for me from Milano’s, I wouldn’t have eaten anything today at all.

She has her hair up in a ponytail, and it bounces around her head with every step as she sanitizes the stations between appointments. The sight of it loosens something in my chest.

Maybe because until today, I’ve only seen her wear her hair down since the incident with Miles, like she was using it to hide behind.

Today, she has a little light back in her.

Maybe it has more to do with the interview she had this morning. She played it off— it was just over video chat, it didn’t last long, it probably won’t go anywhere —but I know that’s the first nibble she’s gotten with all of those job apps she’s been sending out for months.

So of course she’s excited about it.

And of course I’m happy for her.

Of course.

But I guess I’d been hoping—hell, expecting—to have her around all summer. It hasn’t even been quite a month yet, and she could already be leaving?

We finally get a break around three before my next appointment at four, and I lay my forehead against the front desk and close my eyes.

Gracie pats my back, and I relax a little into her touch. “Just one more to go today, right?” she says. “And it’s Friday. The weekend will be a nice break.”

I nod without lifting my head. This next appointment is bound to take several hours though. It’s the second session on this client’s leg piece that covers her entire upper thigh.

The bells above the door ring, and all of my muscles tense. Oh God, she’s early. But when I look up, it’s Christine’s high heels clicking against the floor as she makes her way inside, Casey at her side holding her hand.

“Hey, Case.” I shoot a questioning glance at Christine. In the years I’ve had this place, I don’t think she’s ever stepped foot inside. Don’t think she’s ever individually sought me out at all. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I was just on my way back from picking Casey up from a playdate, and I was hoping you and I could talk. I know you’re busy. It won’t take long. Promise.”

Maybe Makayla or Dad sent her to try to sell me on the new business again. Or to rope me into something else. Some gaudy party or family appearance, if I had to guess. I’m about to protest—I really just don’t have the bandwidth for this today—when she adds, “It’s about Miles Cushing.”

I stop short.

Casey, oblivious to the new tension in the room, releases his mom’s hand and rushes toward me.

“Hey, buddy.” I bend down to give him a hug, then find Gracie’s eyes over my shoulder. Whatever lightness I’d seen in her today is gone at the sound of Miles’s name. Her features are pinched tightly together like she’s bracing for impact. “Gracie, this is my brother Casey and his mom, Christine.”

She offers a shy smile and wave.

“Hi, Gracie!” Casey beams and goes right in to hug her next. “Our names rhyme!”

“So they do.” Her eyes dart from me to Christine, clearly coming to the conclusion this is not a conversation for his ears. “You’ve probably been here before,” she says slowly, “but can I show you some of the new stuff I’ve been working on in the back?”

“Do you tattoo too?”

“Well, no,” she says. “But I work for your brother. I take pictures, and?—”

“You have a camera?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” She smiles uncertainly at me over his head, and I mouth a quick thank you as they turn and head for the back of the shop. Casey grabs Gracie’s hand like he’s known her for years.

My stomach sinks as soon as they’re gone and I have to turn back to Christine. If she knows about Miles, I’m guessing everyone else in the family does too. I’m sure they see it as just another screwup to add to my tab. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long. The arrest happened a week ago.

“Michael Cushing came by the house earlier.”

I sigh and rub my eyes. “I’m surprised you’re here and not my dad then.”

“He’s out of town. He doesn’t know.”

I eye her warily. “You didn’t tell him?”

She shakes her head and chews on her lip. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Because I have a feeling the version I heard isn’t the full story.”

I glance at Gracie over my shoulder. Casey’s sitting on the table farthest from the door with her camera in his lap. She’s hunched beside him with her hands at the ready in case he drops it, but I can tell from the tilt of her head that she’s listening to every word up here.

I don’t know the legality of what happened between Gracie and Miles, if there would be any way to punish him for that. Being a douchebag isn’t illegal. Reckless endangerment, maybe. Or driving under the influence, but what proof do I have for any of it? Maybe I should’ve encouraged her to go to the police that night. But in the moment, all I’d thought about was making sure she was okay.

When I turn back to Christine, she’s already followed my gaze.

“He deserved worse,” I mutter. “If he wants to press charges, let him.”

“He won’t get that far. I’ll make sure of that.” There’s a fierceness in her eyes I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

“No offense, Christine, really, but what could you possibly do?”

She gives me a flat smile and lays both hands on the desk. “Oh, you have no idea how scary and convincing I can be. And I have a feeling Michael’s son’s behavior isn’t something he wants to be the latest town gossip. Reputation matters, especially for someone like him. What clients are going to hire him with a delinquent son running around? Don’t think I don’t know what he and Asher get up to. But I need you to tell me exactly what he did before I talk to Michael again.”

I glance at Gracie, feeling like it’s not my place to share if she doesn’t want me to. She blushes a pretty pink color when I catch her already looking my way. She looks from me to Christine, her teeth worrying at her lower lip, and nods.

“Can I take a picture with you?” Casey asks.

Gracie blinks back to him. “Are we smiling or is it a silly one? You have to press this button here…”

I turn to the very last person I would have expected to come to my rescue and sigh. “Okay.”