Colliding Love - Tucker Billi...

The next day when I leave Logan's apartment, I know I have to do something about Dalton. Ignoring his threats will only cause Logan to do something rash. Even though he promised last night—promised, promised—that he wouldn't go to Dalton to seek revenge, I have a hard time believing him. What Dalton did to me isn't something that can be easily forgiven, and I've seen how well Logan holds a grudge on the ice during a game. I can only imagine Logan's rage is ten times worse off the ice where retaliation is harder to come by.

I ring the doorbell of Ava's house, not even sure she'll answer. She's been absent from the group chat for the last few days, which is very unlike her. Normally, she sends voice memos and random emojis every hour.

Now that I think about it, she was pretty quiet during our family dinner too. She usually shares her drama with her whole chest, so I hadn't noticed that there might be something brewing under the surface.

"What do you want?" Ava asks when she opens her door. She's in silk pajamas with no shoes, and it doesn't look like she's showered or even brushed her hair for days.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you care? Does anyone care?"

"We all care, Ava. But we're not mind readers. What's going on?"

"Ember stopped by yesterday, so at least she cares. Someone noticed my absence."

"We all noticed." But I know that's not accurate. I've been in so deep with Logan and then so anxious about Dalton, that I haven't been circling the rest of the family like I normally do for weeks, maybe months. I'd hate to think it's been longer than that, but I can't be sure. "Just tell me what's going on."

"It doesn't matter. Come in." She steps back and leaves the doorway, assuming I'll follow.

The dramatics are typical of Ava, but those moments have never been preceded by such a terrible physical appearance. She's fueled by revenge with a hint of spite, which normally requires an immaculate physical appearance. We all have a bit of the brave face mentality our mother instilled in us, but Ava's always worn it best. Never bothered. Never ruffled.

"What do you need?" Ava crosses her arms in the middle of her high-ceilinged oversized living room.

Her house is sparsely furnished and decorated, as though she decided to adopt a minimalist décor trend. Based on what I heard from Nathaniel, it's more likely that she sold the pricier personal pieces to try to fund her business ventures. That's what we've all had to do if we wanted purpose in our lives—find creative ways to jumpstart our goals around the outskirts of the Tucker Family Trust rules. Though, Ava's had to do it more than the rest of us. Every business venture she's poured her money into hasn't gotten far off the ground.

"It's a bit embarrassing," I admit, sliding onto the only couch.

That perks her up, and she looks almost happy for a second. "You did something embarrassing?"

"The situation I'm in is embarrassing, and I thought you might be the only one who'd understand, who might not judge me for it."

She gives me a speculative look, and I can tell the gossipy angle I'm using to sell this has intrigued her. In that sense, she's always been the most like our mother. Conflict and conspiracy are her emotional currencies.

"Did you make a sex tape?" Her voice goes hushed, and she slides onto the nearest cushion beside me. "Oh, my god. Please tell me you made a sex tape."

"Not by choice."

"Logan Bishop filmed you without permission?" Her eyes go wide. "That's illegal."

"I'm aware, but it wasn't him."

"Oh, fuck. Dalton?" She groans and sinks deeper into the couch. "Hmm. He seems like the type who'd get you with security cameras around his house and then blackmail you with them."

"That's actually exactly what's happened. That and some photos he took while I was sleeping, or I'd had too much to drink."

"Guys are such assholes." She says the last word with so much vehemence that I'm sure there's more to that 온라인카지노게임.

"If you know all this, you must have had it happen to you?"

"Yep," Ava says with a sigh. "Again—assholes. Go see Weston."

"Our cousin Weston?"

"Yeah, he just moved back to the island after making stacks of cash in tech in America. He's a wizard at getting into accounts and deleting things you don't want seen. Probably very, very illegal, but he's really good at it."

"He's done this for you before?"

"He doesn't like doing it, but he will. He's done it maybe..." She cocks her head and considers it. "Three times?"

"Thank you," I say, and I open my arms for a hug. "I really appreciate this, Ava."

She sinks into my embrace longer than I expect, and when we break apart, I try to examine her for a beat. But she won't look at me.

"That's all you needed?" she asks, standing up, her voice a false perky tone I've never heard.

"Yeah, but..." I hesitate to ask. Part of me isn't sure I can handle more drama, but Nathaniel and I have always been the fixers in the family. It's a hard habit to break. "Are you actually okay?"

"Me? Totally." She meets my gaze, but something isn't right.

I just don't have the energy to push, so I give her another quick hug and head for the door.

When I grab the handle to leave, Ava says from behind me, "Did you ever find out where Stephen went?"

I turn on my heel to take her in, she looks hopeful and a bit sad at the same time. "No. He hasn't been in touch."

She shakes her head, and then she flashes her hand at me. "I'm engaged."

"Oh, my god, Ava! When did this happen?"

"A while ago."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I didn't want you all giving me shit. Gage and Ember know."

"Giving you shit about what?"

"Who I'm marrying."

"Who are you marrying?"

"Raul Santos."

My mind searches for that name, but the only one I come up with is a friend of Dad's who has to be in his fifties or sixties. "I don't think I know him," I say.

"Yes, you do," Ava says.

"No, Ava..."

"I helped you, and now you help me. Support my choices. When I tell everyone else, you need to be on my side."

"Of course I'm on your side." When it makes sense, I want to add. "Are you sure about this?"

"It's a done deal," Ava says. "It's already done."

"You just helped me, Ava. If you need me to get you out of whatever this is, I can help you."

"No, you can't, Sawyer. There's nothing to help." Her jaw tightens in the characteristic way that means she's about to dig in her heels very, very hard.

"Okay, okay." I hold up my hands. "Congratulations on the engagement. Seriously. I'm happy for you." Even if the way she looks suggests she's not actually happy. A direct contradiction to what she's telling me. With Ava, though, there's only so many ways you can push her before she gets extra mad, and then you've completely lost her. "I love you," I say, drawing her into yet another hug, this one tighter. "Thank you for helping me."

"The videos of you and Logan are really cute," she says, holding the edge of the door as I step through. "If Dalton releases whatever he's got, I'm sure the fact you had a life before Logan would turn those stupid hockey bros against you two—again."

"It wouldn't lead to anything good," I say.

While I can hold Logan back right now, I don't know what he'd do if the photos or videos were actually released.

***

Weston's house is a mansion, in the same way that Mom and Dad's home is huge. It's not just big—it's outrageous. A real flex in terms of wealth. Our parents' generation is the closest to the family trust right now, followed by us. The wealth trickles out—by billionaire standards—doled out by the managing group in charge of distributing funds. So for him to purchase this is impressive and probably more him than the actual trust.

Rather than a butler answering the door, Weston's the one revealed when the door draws back. Unlike our branch of the family that's all darker haired and light-eyed, Weston's branch of the Tucker family has lighter brown hair and brown eyes. If we didn't share the same last name, I don't even know if people would realize we're related.

"Sawyer, right?" He peers at me as though trying to reconcile my younger self with the one standing in front of him. Extended family gatherings are few and far between. On top of that, all three brothers are older than me, and therefore, I'm forgettable.

"Yeah. Ava mentioned I might be able to come to you for a favor."

"Ava?" He gives me a look of disbelief and stands back to let me in. "The kind of favors Ava usually asks for could get me sent to jail."

"Well..." I walk past him into the giant foyer. The walls rise forever, and the accent pieces and art are very modern.

He closes the door, but he doesn't lead me anywhere to sit down, and I don't want to wander deeper into his house uninvited.

"You got a sex tape too?" He sighs. "What is with your branch of the Tucker family?"

"Bad taste in men?" I suggest. "I didn't know he was filming me."

"At least there's that. Pretty sure Ava consented and then had regrets. Who is it?" He takes his phone out of his pocket and clicks into a few things.

"Dalton Worthington."

"A member of the Advisory Council?" He lets out a low whistle. "That's not an easy ask, cousin. They have serious security on all their devices and accounts."

"I doubt he transferred the materials to his work accounts."

"Doubt or know? Because if I'm going in or having one of my people go in, I need to be sure."

"I don't know for sure."

He gives me a look that is very displeased. "Do you have a relationship with this man that'll make you sure?"

"No. If I ask him, it'll just tip him off."

"I'll have to get back to you on what I can or can't do. Even if I can do it, the circumstances have to be set up in just the right way. Weeks of planning. Maybe even months."

"But you can do it?"

"I can do it," he says with confidence. "Of course I can do it." He sucks in a deep breath. "Can I do it without going to jail? That's the unknown."

"If you think you'll end up in jail, just drop it," I say. "I can't imagine why Dalton would release anything. He just likes having that power over me."

"Power in the wrong hands is always dangerous," Weston says. "Nobody wants that over their head. Leave it with me. I'll be in touch."

He opens the door to his house again, and I never made it past the front foyer. I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one.

"Thanks for looking into it," I say.

"If I do it," Weston says, "I'm going to need a lot more details from you in terms of dates and accounts. Retrieving and deleting that information is a big undertaking."

"I understand." The idea of reliving any of it makes me want to squirm with discomfort. "Whatever you need."

When I get back in my car, I can't help how my shoulders slump. At a minimum, Dalton will have me over a barrel for weeks or months. If Weston can't do it, I'm not sure where I go next. At least I've taken a step, a stand. I'm not rolling over without trying anything.

No matter what, I won't become the pliable mound of dough Dalton molded to his liking the first time. I've learned my lesson about holding my shape—I know who I am and what I want. 

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