Dynasty (Boys of Winter 1)

“Because all of this,” Carver says, looking around the massive foyer with a strange fondness, “is yours.”

CHAPTER 29

What the actual fuck? I knew Carver was fucking insane.

I turn on my heel and start walking straight back out the door. If he can’t be real with me, then what’s the point of even trying? I’m sick of his bullshit. How hard is it to be honest for once?

Carver groans in frustration behind me. “That’s right,” he calls at my back as I make my way to the massive steps. “Just walk away. Don’t bother hearing me out, but remember, you asked for this. I told you that you were going to be left with more questions, so stop being such a scared little bitch and come and hear what you’re too afraid to learn.”

I stop and spin around, marching straight back to him. “Afraid?” I screech, slamming my fingers against his chest. “I’m not fucking afraid, and I’m sure as hell not some scared little bitch. I asked you to be real with me, give it to me straight, and your opening line is ‘this is all yours.’ Yeah right! How stupid do you think I am? I’m a nobody, and I’m done letting you try and bullshit your way through things. So, I’m leaving. I’m going to bed and forgetting that I even bothered to give you a chance in the first place.”

Carver grabs my hand from his chest and twists it away, but refuses to let go. “First of all, good fucking luck going to bed and making it through the night without me, and second of all, how the hell would you know if I was lying? Do you know who your family was? Do you know where you come from? Because the way I hear it is that you don’t even know your real fucking name, but guess what? I do. I’ve known since the day you were born.”

My eyes widen as I tear my hand out of his grip and stare at him in horror. “You’re lying.”

“Why the fuck would I lie? What do I have to gain by lying to you?”

I shake my head, more than ready to call it quits with this one. I have no idea why he would lie; I just know that he is. How could he possibly be telling the truth? If I don’t know who the real me is, then how the hell would anyone else?

Carver lets out a sigh and steps into me, his hand falling to its favorite place on my waist. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly mean to just blurt it out like that, but just give me a second and I can explain it all. I swear, you might not like it, but you’ll understand when I’m done.”

“I—”

He cuts me off, seeing the refusal on my lips. “What have you got to lose? Either come with me upstairs and I can show you everything, or walk away and live your life always wondering if what I have to say was worth it or not. What’s it going to be? Are you taking a leap and finding the answers that you’ve always been looking for, or are you done?”

I look up and meet his haunted stare, and just as always, I see something staring back at me, something that tells me that if I don’t go with him now, I’m always going to regret it. So, without allowing myself another second to change my mind, I place my hand over his and give it a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” I whisper. “Tell me what you think you know.”

Carver flips his hand over and weaves his fingers through mine before turning and leading me through the house—which is apparently mine. He walks over to the massive grand staircase and starts leading me up, and with each step I take, I feel more and more like an imposter. It’s one thing being inside this house thinking that you’re just borrowing it for the day, but having someone tell you that you actually belong there—fuck. That’s different. I feel like a fraud, an imposter. Even if he somehow manages to prove that this is all mine, I’d still never feel like I belong.

We reach the top of the stairs and Carver doesn’t once release his hold on my hand, and as much as I want to scratch his eyeballs out right now, I can’t help but feel comforted by his touch. I follow him down the hallway, glancing around the darkened home and trying to imagine myself here. The first time I’d walked through here, it was some kind of magic. I felt a connection to this home, but with everything weighing down on me, that connection is gone.

Carver stops by a wall that holds a massive floor to ceiling artwork, and I stare at him as though he's lost his mind. “Really?” I grumble. “You want to drop bombs on me and then take a moment to appreciate art?”