by Molly E. Lee
“Gordon.”
I snapped my eyes open at the sound of my dad’s voice, darting my gaze around as my brain caught up with my eyes. My right cheek was sore from where it’d pressed against the wooden bench seat next to the window in the shop.
“I go to check the kitchen stock and you pass out?” he teased.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I glanced through the closed glass door. I’d only meant to take a breath while he inspected the place. “I guess,” I said, then stood. “Dad. Can we talk about last night now?”
Dad slowly surveyed the shop, nodding as he clamped his hand on my shoulder. “The place looks like new. I didn’t know it would take you all night.”
I shrugged. There had been so much junk strewn around, but I’d kept getting distracted thinking about Zoey, or talking to Jay about Zoey. Going over every detail of the night and wondering how she could fake everything so damn well. How I could be such a fool. How I’d lost everything. The distraction made for slower cleaning time, but I’d needed it to get my head on straight and accept the outcome.
“I didn’t do this, Dad. You need to know that.”
“I know,” he said. “Jay came to chat before I headed over here. Told me everything.” Dad pressed his lips together and motioned toward the kitchen in the back. “Come on, son. It’s my turn to make you breakfast.” I followed him as he walked through the swinging door. “I’ll cook, you talk.”
I leaned against the stainless-steel prep station as Dad slipped on his apron and took his favorite position in front of the stove.
“Someone stole my keys. Jay had the code for the alarm from all the times at breakfast, but he honestly thought I was cool with it. And the rest…well, it was all to get me to lose my chance at the internship.”
Dad furrowed his brow as he grabbed a skillet. “Jay didn’t list any names besides his. Who would go to all that trouble and why?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, not wanting to tell Dad the whole story but knowing I had to for it all to make sense. After I’d told him about my stupid speech, I shook my head. “Guess in a way I deserved this?”
“Hell no, you didn’t.” He plopped a ladleful of pancake batter onto the steaming hot griddle before turning over the fat strips of bacon next to it. “You made a mistake, but you admitted to it. Sought her out to apologize. What she did?” He sighed. “Well, that was a mistake, too.” He flipped the shredded hash brown patties in the skillet. “I wish she hadn’t chosen this place to overrun, but you have to give the girl credit…straight diabolical.”
I snorted. “You didn’t just say that.”
“Don’t be mad.” He shrugged. “You said she apologized, too. That she tried to help you clean this place up.”
“Yeah,” I said, nearly growling. “But that doesn’t erase everything else.”
He arched an eyebrow at me over his shoulder before focusing on the food again. “You leave out part of the story?”
Yes. Because there was no conversation I wanted to have about the hot make out session I’d had with Zoey, or how I thought I was falling for her when in reality she was playing me. “Maybe.”
“Then how can I know what to say?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She…she made a fool out of me.”
“And you did the same to her in that speech.”
I flinched. “I know. But, Dad, I lost everything because of her. No scholarship, no internship. I’m done. I can kiss Stanford goodbye.”
“And if she would’ve earned the internship on her own? Without all this crap attached to it, what would you have done then?”
It would’ve sucked, but I would’ve asked Zoey out. I would’ve had her. “It’s complicated, but I wouldn’t have been as upset.”
“Stanford is still an option, son. Even more so after the brilliant stunt you pulled with Mr. Handler.” He slid a stack of pancakes on the two clean plates I’d laid out for him. “We will find a way. I promise. We’ll take out loans. I’ll refinance the house if I have to.” He finished filling the plates and shut the stove off.
“No.” I took the food through the kitchen and sat down at the bar. “That’s just it,” I said as Dad followed me with two huge glasses of orange juice. He sat next to me. “I don’t want you to do that. I was this close to earning it all on my own.” I pinched my thumb and index finger together. “And if anyone needs to figure it out, it’s me. Not you. You’ll have enough to do now that you’ll have full control over this place.”
He beamed at me. “I still don’t know how you did it, but I’m so grateful you did. I didn’t think there would ever be a way to change his mind. Not when he’s wanted to flip this place for years.” He stabbed into his pancakes.
“This is like our second home. I wasn’t going to let it go down without a fight.” I glanced around the place. “We can do so much with it now. We could get a new stove, an espresso machine, freshen up the menu.” The possibilities seemed endless. “We could possibly triple our customer intake with the right finances.”
He smiled at me, arching a brow. “You keep saying we.”
“This is as much mine as it is yours. And since I won’t be going to Stanford, I’ll be here to help you get this place back on its feet.” The prospect that our restaurant could live and thrive instead of fizzle out because of one bad guy’s actions filled my chest with hope. It may not be the future I had planned, but it wasn’t bleak.
“It’s a good idea,” he said. “But you wouldn’t be happy staying here.”
“Sure, I would.”
“Okay,” he said, waving the potato on his fork in a circle. “You may be fine with it, but you need a challenge, son. Something that pushes that big brain of yours—which you got from your mother, by the way.”
I laughed. He always said that. Never gave himself enough credit.
“We’ve got some time,” he continued. “We’ll figure it all out. Right now, I need to ask you something critically important.”
“What?” I swallowed hard. I’d already told him the truth about everything. What else could go wrong?
He dipped his pancake in the small bowl of syrup and popped it in his mouth. After chewing for what seemed like an hour, he asked, “Do you think the pecan syrup is too nutty? I can’t decide if I’m not caramelizing them long enough beforehand.”
A breath of air rushed out of my lungs and I laughed. “It’s spot on, Dad. Jeez.”
He clapped me on the back. “What did you think I was going to ask?”
I shook my head, shoveling another bite into my mouth.
“Maybe something like how long you’ve been in love with Zoey?”
I spit the sip of juice I’d taken back into my cup. “What?” I snapped.
He laughed. “It’s kind of apparent, kid. It wouldn’t have hurt so much if you weren’t.”
“I am not.” I huffed. I hadn’t thought of it in those clear of terms.
“Son, I know you better than anyone. You wouldn’t think you’d be okay with losing the internship to her and the scholarship to her fair and square and be fine if you weren’t totally in love with her.”
I sighed, staring at my bacon like it could feed me another lie.
“I think I’ve liked her for a lot longer than I even realized,” I finally admitted.
“People who challenge us, push us to be better versions of ourselves…” He held his cup out to mine and clicked it against it. “Those are the best ones to fall for.” He took a drink before setting his cup down. “You get what I’m saying?”
I nodded. “Doesn’t change the fact that she was acting the entire night. Everything she did was to keep me at that party. To keep me from finding out about what happened here too soon.”
Dad crunched off a piece of bacon. “Son, you dragged me to see Zoey in a total of six plays from middle school to your freshman year…she isn’t that great an actress.”
“Dad—” My groaning was cut off by the sound of my cell ringing from my pocket.
> “Maybe it’s her!” he teased as I jumped up and I rolled my eyes.
“Hello?” I answered when I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello, Gordon,” Mrs. Rollins said. “I’m sorry for calling so early. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No worries,” I said, pacing the length of the shop. “I was up.”
“Oh, good.”
“What’s going on?” I asked when she didn’t continue.
“I told you I would be looking into other scholarships and grants and things for you after Zoey was awarded the scholarship yesterday.”
“Uh-huh…” I froze in the spot right by the door, my heart beating rapidly. “Did you find something?”
“Well, not exactly.”
The hope deflated right out of me, dropping my racing heart into my gut.
“Though Zoey did.”
“What?”
“Zoey was awarded another scholarship. She called to tell me this morning. And I immediately called the admissions director at Stanford. They’ve made the adjustments necessary.”
“For what exactly?” I blinked over and over like that would help me understand what she was saying.
“For the scholarship you and Zoey competed for. It’s been transferred to your name.”
“Are you serious?” My vision blurred as Mrs. Rollins laughed over the line.
“Absolutely, Gordon.” I could hear the smile in her voice, but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
“Thank you,” I blurted out. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m so proud of you, Gordon. I’ll email you all the details now.”
“Thank you.” They were the only two words I knew at the moment.
“Thank Zoey,” she said, and my mind cleared. “If she hadn’t searched for other means, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I will,” I said and hung up the phone.
“What happened?” my dad asked, standing right in front of me.
I pocketed my cell. “Zoey took another scholarship.”
“And?”
“I’ve got the original one.”
“The full ride?” My dad’s eyes were wide.
I nodded, a rock lodged in my throat.
“Woo-hoo!” my dad hollered and crushed me in a bear hug. “That is amazing, son!”
I patted him on the back, a state of shock numbing my body. Last night I thought my future had crumbled, and with one phone call it had been restored.
“Wonder what made Zoey take another one?” Dad asked, releasing me.
I arched an eyebrow at the way he looked at me with a knowing gaze. I couldn’t remember there being another scholarship. Certainly not one that she could apply for this late in the year. “I guess I should go find out?”
He smacked my shoulder. “Yeah, you really should.”
Chapter Twenty
Zoey
A knock on my bedroom door yanked a groan from my lips. I’d just slid under my comforter after returning home from my meeting with Connie at A&J. I’d only stayed out long enough to make the last call to Mrs. Rollins, and by the time I got home, I was beyond exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to flip on Netflix and finally discover what I’d been missing on half the shows Braylen had begged me to watch over the last few years.
Before I could respond, whoever was outside knocked again.
“Yeah?” I called, not bothering to get up to open the door.
My father cracked it open and leaned against the frame. “Glad you’re not asleep.”
“I was close,” I lied. Honestly, with how tired I was, my mind still refused to let me rest. That’s why I had Netflix up on the screen, hoping I could get so lost in a show my brain would have to let me go. I kept trying to figure out if there was anything else I could do to make things right with Gordon, but honestly, outside showing up at his house with a Jambox pumping out a love song, I’d done everything possible. I planned on calling him tomorrow, or at least trying to, but today…I needed to sleep.
“Can I come in?” he asked, and I nodded, sitting up straight with my back against the headboard. He sank onto the edge of my bed. “I don’t think I’ve made myself clear enough,” he said, and I furrowed my brow. Was I in trouble? “I’m incredibly proud of you.”
My eyes bulged for a second as shock flew through me. “How could you be?” I asked. “I practically ruined a boy’s future, all so I could get my revenge.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t. You made a mistake, and you took every action to fix it. Not even adults always do that, Zoey. You’re an amazing young woman.”
“Dad,” I said, fiddling with the hem of my comforter. “I’m not sure I fixed it.”
“Sure you are,” he said. “The scholarship is now in his name, you cleared yourself at A&J, and you’re on track to start Stanford in August. What more could you fix?”
I pressed my lips together. Gordon. I could have him along with everything else, but it was selfish to ask the universe for that, too.
“Ah,” he said, a small grin on his face. “The boy.”
I raised my eyebrows, refusing to look my father in the eye. We had never discussed my social life before—it just wasn’t our style—and I wasn’t about to start now. “The only reason why I’m headed to Stanford is because of you,” I said, desperate to not talk about Gordon.
He sighed. “I wish you didn’t view agreeing to a part-time internship at our company as a curse.”
My chest squeezed. He’d only agreed to pay for my college if I agreed to the part-time internship. Strict terms. No negotiation. If I’d refused, he would’ve, too. That push-pull was what made it more difficult to accept. Also, the knowledge that I hadn’t been able to do things on my own crushed the dreams I’d had about earning my way, regardless if working for him was a way to earn it or not.
“I don’t,” I finally said. “Honestly. I just…I wanted to earn it on my own.”
“And you did.” He patted my leg. “Zoey, you did everything possible to ensure you earned a full ride to the college of your dreams. Why does it matter that our company is floating the bill as opposed to the school? You’ll get your education, enrich that already brilliant mind of yours, and do wondrous things. Wherever you decide to end up.” He added the last part quickly, and I still wasn’t used to his new outlook on my choices. He’d never been this open before, but I’d never been completely open with him about the effect the rumor mill had on me over the years, either. Like I said, not our style.
“You’re right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m being stupid. I should be beyond grateful I have this opportunity. Thank you,” I said with as much sincerity as I could. He was right. I had earned my way to college. The payment was just coming from the last source I’d expected.
“You know I wouldn’t have paid for your school if I didn’t believe in you, right?” he asked. “If you didn’t work as hard as you do…I wouldn’t have made the call. I would’ve left you to find your way out of the problem.” He stood up. “So, don’t for one second think you didn’t earn this. Because you did. Many times over.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Thanks,” I said.
He smiled before walking toward my door. “Oh, and Zoey?”
“Yeah?”
“Gordon’s here to see you.”
“What?” I snapped, bolting out of bed. I frantically smoothed my frizzy hair down. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I wanted to talk with you before I lost your attention to that boy for the rest of who knows how long.” He chuckled. “Smart kid, though.”
“So I guess the meeting went well?”
“Yes, it did.”
That made me happier than I thought possible, but it was quickly clouded over by fear. My shoulders sank. “I’m pretty sure he hates me.”
“Not possible.” He tapped the side of my door. “I’ll send him back.”
Butterflies flapped in my stomach, but they were half frantic, half excited. Chaotic little suckers made my
fingers tremble and shoved my heart right up my throat as I waited for him. Why had I changed out of my public clothes to my softest pair of sweats and an oversized white tee? I contemplated darting to my closet to change, but I heard footsteps outside in the hallway.
Too late.
Seconds later, Gordon’s tall frame filled my opened doorway, and the sight of him switched on all my senses. Like every single nerve-ending I had in my body woke up in his presence. Had it always been that way? Had I mistaken the rush of a challenge when we competed with the rush of attraction and connection I recognized now?
He wore the same clothes he had on last night, his tee wrinkled, jeans still splattered with dried dirt, and his brown hair disheveled. There was a slight dusting of purple under his eyes, too, but he’d never looked more handsome to me.
“Hi,” he said, and I tried not to laugh.
“Hi.” I motioned to my room. “You want to come in?”
Nodding, he took two tentative steps inside, surveying my bedroom. It was immaculate, except for my rumpled comforter and a stack of books on my desk. I needed a clean space since my brain was always on overdrive. After a couple of turns, he sank down in the oversize chair in the corner of my room—my favorite reading spot. He smacked his hands on his thighs after I’d perched on the edge of my bed. He eyed the red Netflix screen on my TV, which sat on top of my dresser across the room.
“I thought you were going to call me the day you decided to binge-watch?” he asked, and the tight air in my lungs released in one breath.
“Didn’t think that invitation was still valid.”
He scrunched his eyebrows. “Why? Just because you let your friends have an afterparty in my dad’s shop?” He tried to joke, but I couldn’t laugh. “Zoey,” he said, sighing. He rested his elbows on his knees, peering up at me with those eyes that seemed to look right into me. “Tell me the truth…was it all in my head?”
“No,” I said. “Not even close.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“I told you last night—”
“Not that,” he cut me off. “The scholarship. A&J called me, too. I got the internship. Seems like today turned into my luckiest yet.”
