The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games Book 2)

I was staring out the largest ground-floor window when a new SUV pulled up outside. Jameson stepped out first, then Grayson. Both of them were wearing sunglasses. I wondered if they were hungover.

I wondered if either one of them had slept the night before, after that conversation with Grayson’s father.

It took me fifteen minutes to get one of them alone. Jameson and I ended up on a balcony. My breath visible in the air, I caught him up on what I’d found. He listened, quiet and still.

Neither one of those was an adjective I associated with Jameson Hawthorne.

When I finished, Jameson turned his back on the mountain view and leaned against the snow-covered railing. He was still dressed for Arizona.

His elbows were bare, but he acted like he couldn’t even feel the cold. “I have something to tell you, too, Heiress.”

“I know.”

“Sheffield Grayson believes that Toby set the fire on Hawthorne Island.”

Jameson’s eyes were still hidden behind sunglasses. It made it difficult to tell what, if anything, he was feeling.

“I know,” I repeated. “Grayson forgot to hang up the phone last night. I didn’t hear everything, but I got the gist. The last thing I heard was that Toby had purchased accelerant. Then the phone went dead. I tried to call you both. Repeatedly. But nobody answered.”

Jameson didn’t say anything for a full four or five seconds. I wasn’t sure he was going to reply to what I’d just said at all.

“The bastard made it clear that he wants nothing to do with Gray. He said that Colin was the closest thing he’ll ever have to a son.” Jameson swallowed, and even though his eyes were still masked by the sunglasses, I could feel the way those words had affected him.

I didn’t want to think about the impact they might have had on Grayson.

“For once, Skye wasn’t lying.” Jameson’s voice was low. “Grayson’s father has always known about him.”

I was used to Jameson flirting and rattling off riddles, balancing precariously on the edges of rooftops and throwing caution to the wind. He didn’t let things matter. He didn’t let them hurt.

If I took off those sunglasses, what would I see?

I stepped toward him. The door to the balcony opened. Alisa looked at me, looked at Jameson, looked at the foot of space between us, and then gave me a pointed smile. “Ready to hit the slopes?”

No. I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t tip my hand that the reason we were here had nothing to do with wanting a winter getaway. Whatever our plan for searching the rest of the house, we had to be subtle.

“I…” I searched for an appropriate response. “I don’t know how to ski.”

Grayson appeared in the doorway behind Alisa. “I’ll teach you.”

Jameson stared at him. So did I.