Page 72 of Last Boy
I huff out a breath, sitting back in my seat further. “This girl, Poppy, she got in a bit of a mess. I needed to make sure she was protected. And that the people who hurt her were taken care of.” I pull my sunglasses down. “And now, well, here we are.”
She gives me a small smile. “You love this girl, correct?”
“Yeah,” I say instantly. “What’s it matter though?” I jerk my chin toward the house. “He’ll make sure that if she’s tied to me in any way, she’ll never dance for any major company.”
“Did he say that?”
“He didn’t have to,” I deadpan. “I know how my uncle’s mind works. And if I go against this deal—a deal I agreed to—Poppy can forget chasing her dreams. So can I. He’d never let it happen.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Natasha and Beckett walk out onto the patio with Gia’s parents close behind her.
“Look at y’all coupled up,” Beckett drawls, taking a sip from his whiskey. “Guess it’s a good thing that your daddy and I talked, Miss Gia.” He smirks from her to me. “Y’all are getting married early.”
“What?” Gia blurts out, standing abruptly and throwing her hands up into the air.
I just sit there, tossing my head back, not really surprised at all.
“Papa, is this true?”
“My dear, Walker’s hockey schedule is very grueling,” Beckett chimes, coming beside me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “Isn’t that right, nephew? But he has tonight and tomorrow off. So, that means…it’s the perfect time for a wedding.”
“I don’t want to marry Gia, Beckett,” I growl, finally standing, and I tower over him by a few inches. “And she sure as hell doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Well, unlucky for you, both of you knew this was part of our agreement.” He shrugs, sipping down the rest of his drink.
As always, Natasha says absolutely nothing. She just stands there with her long, silky blonde hair brushed over her shoulders. A stoic look on her face, though she smiles when he looks her way, as if on cue.
“Papa,” Gia cries, going in front of her father, “I am your only daughter. How can you do this to me?” Her head swings toward her mom. “Mama, you can’t possibly be all right with any of this, can you?”
There’s no denying the look of sadness that crosses her mother, Serena’s, face. But when her husband squeezes her hand, it quickly vanishes.
“Your mother agrees that this will be a good thing for you, princess.” He looks from his wife to his daughter. “Right, Serena?”
“Yes,” she barely chirps. “Walker will make a good husband,” she says, her eyebrows barely pulling together with emotion. “Everyone is not this lucky, you know.”
“You call this lucky?” Gia hisses, looking around at the people who are supposed to be our role models. “You all make me sick. Papa, when will enough be enough? Now what? You need to attach me to Walker James because you think there’s a good chance he’s going pro, and you’re going to try to use him to build your sports connections here in the States?” Her nostrils flare. “I am so disappointed in you. I really am.”
She takes off, running into the house, and I glare at Beckett.
“She’s right. This is fucking insanity.” I step closer to him, tossing my arms out at my sides. “You can do whatever you want to do to me. I’m not playing your games anymore.”
His dark eyes stare into mine. “Oh, what? You think you have a choice?” He chuckles, looking around at everyone else. “If you love your sister or…what’s the name of that nice piece of ass? Right, Poppy. Daughter of a drug dealer. If you love either of them or care just a smidgen”—he holds his fingers up—“you’ll cooperate, Walker. Because I promise you, things can get really ugly, really quick.”
The old Walker would have beaten the fuck out of him until he could hardly move. But that was before Beckett knew Poppy. And had complete control over Briar. The stakes are too high for me to act stupid right now.
“You’re a fucking prick,” I growl.
Backing away, I head into the house, slamming the door before putting my fist through the drywall.
Maybe we will have to go through with this wedding, but in the end, they never mentioned we weren’t allowed to get a divorce.
Poppy
I walk back from the coffee shop, feeling completely defeated and annoyed. Walker left this morning to go to his uncle’s, and I have yet to hear from him since. I’ve texted him, but the messages aren’t going through. And I have this bad feeling deep inside my gut that something isn’t right.
A car stops next to me, instantly putting me on edge, but I’m thankful that it’s daytime and the streets are full of other students walking to and from places.
The tinted window, so dark that I can’t see into it, rolls down, and Hudson’s stoic face stares back at me, stopping me in my tracks.