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“Never lose your heart to a Hawthorne.”
A frequent and obnoxious reminder that Alisa insisted on providing her with every time she caught a glimpse of how she looked at Jameson or Grayson, for that matter. She could somewhat see where her lawyer was coming from; after a sudden breakup with the eldest (which, matter of fact, she did NOT have a clue what happened between them), she could understand why Alisa, at no time, would want her involved with either of the two brothers.
Especially with their backstory surrounding a specific girl, there was no chance she'd spare the idea of wanting to worsen their already torn relationship. No, forget Emily. Go back to Alisa.
As she said earlier, that didn’t mean Alisa had to project her prior experiences onto her. She was fully capable of fending for herself. Alisa needn’t worry about who or what Avery gets herself into. After all, having someone obnoxiously protective of her was never something she– thoroughly enjoyed.
It’s not like she was a toddler who had no clue what she was doing.
Besides, she was technically an adult now since she got emancipated. She didn’t need to worry anymore about Skye desperately trying to take her money, reaching out to anybody she could get her hands on.
Drake, Ricky; the list would be longer if she and her “father” weren’t locked up. That bastard would never be her father. No matter how many DNA tests that gets run on her and that prick, she’ll never see him as anything but a piece of shit.
Skye, though.
God, that woman never knew when to give up; her desperation was disgusting.
She could never get it through that thick skull of hers. In the past, even when Alisa had stated thousands of times that the will was ironclad, she kept trying, first by getting Drake to do her dirty work, then by sleeping with her dead-beat father.
Jesus Christ, her willpower and drive were annoying.
She recomposed herself and continued strolling down the halls of Hawthorne House, mindlessly taking in every aspect of the castle-like building. She needed something to take her mind off the rage coursing through her veins.
A few feet away, John Oren trailed behind her. Avery’s head of security that Tobias Hawthorne appointed to her himself. One of the few good things that came out of inheriting his will.
After the assassination attempts pulled on her, he’d made it deathly clear that he wouldn’t be more than six feet away.
At least she felt– slightly more at ease now.
Anywho, despite being in the House for weeks now, she’d never gotten a chance to explore it to the fullest. Usually, she was running around in search of clues.
It was always for Tobias Hawthorne’s games.
God, a constant reminder that she was either the glass ballerina or the knife in these games. After Nash had commented about it, she couldn’t help but let that thought trail after her everywhere she went.
Something that would taunt her no matter where she was.
Shaking the thought from her head, she entered the gymnasium wing, which would ensure she made a beeline toward the rock-climbing wall. She took one step too far and quickly backtracked when she saw a flash of movement.
As usual, the third Hawthorne brother was halfway up, his shirt carelessly tossed onto the ground. She observed from afar, paying close attention to how every inch of that god-forsaken body moved.
It was hypnotizing. That man was god-sent.
She watched him silently and swore she could watch him climb for days. However, that could only happen if he could last that long.
That sounded terrible out of context.
It took a few seconds to register in the Heiress’ mind that he’d stopped climbing, which meant: he must’ve felt her eyes on him.
“Heiress?” Jameson called down, his focus never leaving the wall before him. He was always known for his laser focus, anyway.
“Jameson.” Avery nodded, eyes remaining fixated on the boy. She watched him let go of a rock, glancing down at her. He was already grinning, that stupidly wicked grin plastered across his face.
In multiple calculated descents, the green-eyed Hawthorne landed next to her. As he sloppily dusted himself off, he looked at Avery, an eyebrow raised. His grin remained the same.
“Have you stumbled upon a new challenge for us?”
And so it appears that the only things that truly matter to him are those goddamn games. Though, it isn’t much of a surprise. The billionaire sighed.
Disappointment.
“God forbid this be the only thing that ever matters to you.” She crossed her arms. It was evident why these games mattered so much to him. They were simply a way for him to take his mind off the negative aspects of his life.
He’s hungry, not for food but for the adrenaline . He wants to feel something , whether it be pain, joy, or thrill. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne is a thrill-seeker.
The bastard smiled.
“You wound me, Heiress.” He winked.
It physically pained her when he could never take something seriously for once.
Avery sighed, unamused. Her left hand dropped, resting on her hip instead.
“Aren’t you tired of this?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Of what?”
He knew what she was talking about. The issue is that he refused to acknowledge it.
“Of– this . You can’t keep using these games as a way to cope.” As much as she wanted to contain those words, she let them spill out. “You’re hurting, Jameson.”
His smile faltered, hesitating before looking the other way.
Now, this was a rare Hawthorne occurrence, especially from Jameson . Avery couldn’t help but feel some type of concern for him, as surprising as it may sound.
When was she not concerned for him?
This man was always, oh-so incredibly concerning. He and his self-destructive tendencies typically ended with him punching a tree until his knuckles bled.
“Jamie.” She walked toward the Hawthorne.
He backed up.
“Aha, I’m not entirely sure I understand what you mean, Heiress.” His voice cracked, looking anywhere but at her . Nervous, anxious, or maybe defensive. Avery watched him; she stopped walking once his back hit a wall.
Carefully, she reached out and touched his face; he leaned in.
What the hell was she doing?
“You’re hurting,” she mumbled, eyes watching his face as her hand trailed down, now resting on his shoulder. Pushing him down so he was eye-level with her, she inched closer. “I can help.” God, she didn’t even understand what she was saying. “Please. Let me help you.”
Insane, that’s what she sounded like. What was she even trying to help with? Maybe if it were anyone else but Jameson goddamn fucking Hawthorne, she wouldn’t have offered any help.
This man had a chokehold on her.
His breath hitched; if she said she couldn’t see the tiniest hint of vulnerability flash through his eyes, she’d be lying so fucking hard. Jameson’s eyes darted back and forth from her eyes to anywhere beside her; he gulped.
“I-” He turned his head, his breathing staggered. “ Fuck .” He chuckled, glancing at Avery. “You don’t- you don’t know what you’re talking about, Heiress.”
Her hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his hair, slowly running her fingers through the mop of dark brown.
She swore his back arched.
He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.
“ Jameson .” She mumbled, pressing their foreheads together. He kept his eyes closed, his breathing all the more shaky. “Let me help.”
“I can’t.” His voice cracked, and he opened his eyes. “ God , I can’t. You can’t.” He smiled oh-so miserably, eyebrows furrowed.
And maybe, her heart broke a little.
Her hands travelled down, resting on his waist. He let his head fall backwards, hitting the wall. Avery rested her head on the crook of his neck.
“When you want anything,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. “Help, support, anything .” Jameson held onto her arms, his grip firm. “Just let me know, and I’ll be here.”
His grin was heart-shattering.
“I know.”
–
It was 1 AM, and someone was knocking on her door.
Avery stared blankly at the ceiling, listening to the silent, repetitive knocks. Max never knocked this gently, and Libby was usually out cold by 10 PM or earlier.
So, who was at her bedroom door? And why hasn’t Oren detained them or sent them back yet?
Maybe she should’ve been more cautious; she should’ve been more worried about who else besides Oren would be there.
Despite that, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and walked toward the door. The knocking was starting to get annoying.
Plus, she was curious.
Hesitantly, she turned the knob, and the sight of Jameson Hawthorne greeted her.
She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to send him back to his wing. Perhaps she would’ve scolded him, anything that would’ve made him leave.
And yet, when she caught a glimpse of his face, she stopped dead in her tracks.
His eyes were bloodshot.
“..Please.” He mumbled, his hands curled into fists by his sides.
He was shaking.
Avery let him in.
–
He sat on her bed, legs brought up to his chest as he stared off for a while. She’d given him a cup of water, though he hadn’t touched it.
They’d been sitting there for a few minutes; she avoided the temptation to ask him what he was there for. Instead, she let him stay eerily quiet as she covered him in a blanket.
His knuckles were bleeding, albeit a tiny amount.
“ Heiress .” He whispered so quietly she swore she would’ve missed it. Jameson leaned against her, closing his eyes. Avery hesitantly wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. She held him close, unsure what to do, as she listened to his uneven breathing.
She opted to rest her head against his, and she shut her eyes.
“It’s okay.” She wasn’t sure why she said it or what she was comforting him about, but it felt right to do so. “You’re okay.”
The Hawthorne chuckled weakly.
“ Fuck ,” he let out a breathy laugh. “ Am I?”
Jameson looked at her with those fathomless eyes, and she remained eerily silent. He shuffled around before putting one of his legs on the other side of Avery’s.
She held him by his waist and connected their foreheads; he bit back a sob for reasons she couldn’t quite understand.
“You can’t help me, Heiress.” He whispered, leaning into her as he held onto her arms. His eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head. “You can’t.” He repeated oh-so weakly.
She would’ve believed him.
“At least let me try.” Avery rubbed circles on his waist, listening to his staggered breathing. She watched as he opened his mouth to speak, then quickly shut it.
“Fix me,” There was a hint of hesitance as those words left his mouth. “ Please .” He’d muttered, his voice brittle as he choked back tears that threatened to spill.
Avery held him there, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
“..You can cry. It’s okay.” She murmured.
That night, Jameson Hawthorne cried until he couldn’t anymore.
And Avery stayed there, holding him until he cried himself to sleep.
–
Jameson was gone when she woke up. Not a trace was left behind aside from the untouched cup of water.
Avery sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looked around her empty bedroom. A wave of disappointment washed over her once she realized the Hawthorne wasn’t there. Allowing that dissatisfaction to subside, she suddenly yawned.
Then yelled in pain as she got a cramp in her leg.
God fucking damn it.
–
She found him in the solarium, shirtless, with a bottle of wine. He stood in the center. Glowing.
He spread his arms, dark brown hair a mess resting on his head. Slowly, he quarter-turned to face her; a lazy smile plastered on his face. His eyes were puffy, most likely from crying last night.
“Mystery Girl.” He dropped his arms to his side, slowly walking towards her.
“Jameson.” She rested one of her hands on her hips, looking up at him once he’d reached her. Raising her right hand, Jameson bent down as she ran her fingers through his hair.
He breathed shakily, slowly placing the bottle on the ground as he leaned into her touch. She cracked a smile and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Drunk.” He mumbled, smiling. “I want ham.”
Avery rolled her eyes.
“I think you need to go back inside.” She took her hand out his hair and let it trail down his neck toward his collarbone instead. Her thumb ghosted the scar travelling his collar to his hip, hand stopping on his shoulder.
His eyes opened, though half-lidded.
“I think you should kiss me.” He grinned.
She stared at him for a few seconds before shaking her head. It was clear this wouldn’t have been the first time they’d kissed, as shown by yesterday’s fiascos. However, she didn’t feel like tasting wine today.
“I’ll think about it when you don’t taste like wine.” She dropped her hand, no longer touching the Hawthorne. An audible noise of protest came from the other. Avery cocked an eyebrow in amusement.
He opened his eyes fully, standing upright.
“Jameson?” A twinge of amusement laced with her words.
“..You heard nothing, Heiress.”
–
Well, the more you know.
It was interesting to see how he’d react to the slightest touch. Sure, Avery had noticed his reactions in the past, but knowing exactly how much he– yearned for physical affection was intriguing.
Touch-starved, maybe?
She had no plans of using this newfound knowledge for ill intent, more for a learning experience.
Sort of.
She’ll use it for good. No worries.
–
Entering the House, Max quickly greeted her, who stood before her with a smug grin. She wiggled her eyebrows.
“So, you and Jameson? In the solarium?” She had her hands on her hips, leaning down to eye-level with Avery. “In the morning too! Scandalous.” She’d giggled.
She blinked.
“What? God, no!” Avery shook her head frantically. “I was not doing anything scandalous with Jameson!” That came out louder than anticipated.
“That’s what they all say, Ave.” Max winked, teasing. “I could tell you were performing some communing... With his abs.”
“Wh- NO. NO MORE AB COMMUNING. GOD, NO.” She frantically shook her hands and head, eyes wide in shock.
The other simply smirked.
“Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone you’ve been faxing Jameson Hawthorne.”
–
For the remaining afternoon, she hadn’t seen Jameson whatsoever. She’d assumed he was still in the solarium; however, when she checked, he wasn’t there anymore. All that remained was his half-drunken bottle of wine.
She had assumed he was avoiding her, which wasn’t a surprise, considering that’s what he did during the first game. However, it wasn’t clear exactly why he was steering clear of her.
That man was always pulling something. She could never figure out what he planned to do next. Instead, she let him do his own thing.
He’ll come out eventually; she figured this much.
–
Avery lay awake, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the soft knocks at her bedroom door. Once again, it was 1 AM. A familiar knocking pattern occurred, and she threw her legs over the side of her bed.
She’d opened the door and sighed when she saw Jameson. He hastily wiped at his eyes, glaring at her.
“Don’t- don’t say anything.” He mumbled, an unfortunate amount of tears spilling from those gorgeously green eyes. His voice cracked as he spoke.
Avery shook her head and moved to the side.
“Come in.”
–
She rested her head on the couch’s armrest, silently running her fingers through his hair. He lay atop her with eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to muffle his sobs.
“Jamie.” Avery twirled strands of his hair between her fingers. His breathing was unsteady. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
He made an unintelligible noise and shook his head.
Then bit his hand.
Hard .
His eyes were glossy.
She furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed his hand, pulling it out of his mouth. A bite mark was visible on his flesh, red blossoming around the bite. Jameson let out a choked sob in response.
“I can’t- God , Heiress, you don’t-” He hiccuped and quickly covered his mouth. “ You don’t understand .” The Hawthorne had whispered, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard.
Avery remained silent, holding him in her arms as he cried. She’d let him lay there until his quick and uneven breaths slowed; closing her eyes, she kissed his head.
She’d received silence as a response; therefore, she assumed he was asleep.
“When you’re ready, I’ll be here.” She whispered, wiping a stray tear from his face. “Maybe you’re right; maybe I won’t understand what’s wrong.” Avery ran her fingers through his hair; his breathing returned to normal. “But I’ll try. I’ll be with you, no matter what.”
She paused.
“I don’t care how big or small this thing is– if it’s causing you this much pain, I’ll stay with you.”
Avery smiled.
“God, I sound crazy for talking to somebody that’s passed out.”
She let her head fall backwards, taking a deep breath.
“Goodnight, and may you please tell me what’s wrong.” She’d meant the last part as a joke as she drifted off to sleep.
–
The next day was uneventful. She’d attended Heights Country Day and talked to Xander alongside Rebecca and Thea. Though, she hadn’t seen Jameson the entire day.
She’d concluded he’d either skipped or was on the rooftop golfing. It was most likely the former. Walking down the halls to her final class, she felt a tug on her blazer.
In response, she whipped her entire body around; her hand balled into a fist.
“Heiress.” Jameson grinned.
Avery raised an eyebrow at the sight of him.
“You’re at school?”
He shrugged.
“Where else? In your bedroom?” The boy smirked, walking beside her. She scoffed.
“What would you possibly do in my bedroom?” The Heiress glanced toward him, eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing in there besides a television that only streams British sitcoms.” She was lying, of course.
“Jump into the pool from your balcony.”
“I’d kill you.”
He bent down to her level, eyebrow raised.
“Wouldn’t you rather kiss me?” His eyes darted from her lips back to her eyes.
She stopped walking, turning to face him with a blank expression. His grin remained the same.
The last time anyone saw Jameson that day was when he was getting pushed into the nearest janitor’s closet.
The first time anyone saw him after school was with a messed up uniform and messier hair than he came to school with.
Avery, however, looked the same.
Maybe a little smugger.
–
Jameson had caught a ride with her back to Hawthorne House, his face still a faint shade of red from their fiasco in the closet. Avery turned to face him, her poker face looking– poker.
“You’re still red.” She squinted. “Same with your ears- is that normal?”
He grinned.
“As normal as it gets with a Hawthorne.”
Avery rolled her eyes.
–
The pair walked to Tobias’ wing- well, her wing now. Jameson had begun talking about a random plant in the solarium, though she wasn’t sure how he knew this much about it.
It was an orchid, which he’d spewed some facts about it as they approached Avery’s bedroom. Jameson had thrown in a pick-up line somewhere in the mix of points. She most likely would’ve missed it if she hadn’t noticed the wink when he’d said it.
It would’ve been odder if he hadn’t said some cheesy pickup line.
Opening the door, she stepped in with Jameson following behind her. She gestured toward her couch, glancing back at him.
“I’ll get you some water.”
“How generous.”
He fell back into the sofa with an “oomph” as she walked off to retrieve the glass of water.
–
Jameson stared at the ceiling, an off-white. Turning his head to the side, he looked at the television. His reflection was all that was visible. Biting his lip, he looked away.
He was fucked up, God , that was clear. Mentally, he wasn't okay. Emotionally, he wasn’t available. Physically, he was destroying himself.
He’d known this, but knowing that Avery knew as well, fucked him up. Assuming he was good at hiding the fact he wasn’t okay was– a terrible guess. Jameson was good at guessing. In games, he was fantastic at assuming but not with matters concerning himself.
Ah, that’s right.
Those fucking games, that’s what he was good at.
He’s always been good at games; him and his laser focus. He’d fixate on one thing and ignore everything else around him. That’s what he’s always been good at.
It’s the only thing he’s good at.
He threw his arm over his eyes, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.
Blood; the taste of iron filled his mouth. He could care less.
What else was he good at?
“Jameson.”
–
He moved his arm, looking at Avery, who towered over him. He’d extracted his teeth from his bottom lip, smiling.
“Heiress.”
Jameson watched her eyes trail down to his lip; a look of– most likely panic flickered across her face.
“ Jesus Christ , I left you for–” she kneeled and ran her finger across his lip, looking at the blood smear on her thumb. “ Jameson ,” Avery mumbled.
“It’s nothing that serious, MG.” He shrugged, smiling all the same.
She furrowed her eyebrows.
“Your lip is bleeding, and you’re telling me it’s nothing serious?”
Jameson hummed in response.
“I’ll go get a gauze for you; stay here .” Avery stood up and hurried off.
–
As she said, she’d returned with a pack of clean gauze. Jameson stayed in his previous position as she’d instructed, flipping a coin he’d found in his pocket.
It’d fallen on his face around five times or more.
She kneeled beside him again; and pressed the gauze to the bitten area.
“You’re an idiot,” Avery mumbled. He hummed in response.
“An idiot you got yourself entangled with.” Every word he spoke muffled due to the gauze.
“Stop talking before I force you to.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirking.
“I’ll slap you.”
–
The bleeding had subsided, and the two sat on the couch with a horrible British sitcom playing.
Avery was not lying.
Jameson watched it in pain.
“I told you, this thing only plays British sitcoms.” She crossed a leg over the other, turning to face him. He slowly turned to look at her.
“Please turn the television off.”
He looked on the verge of tears.
She chuckled before reaching for the remote, promptly turning the sitcom off.
–
Eventually, Jameson ended up lying atop her. With Avery’s fingers entangled in his hair, she carefully undid any knots she encountered. He huffed. She stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
He leaned back.
“Nothing to worry about, Heiress.”
“I always have to be worried when it comes to you.” She brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and he hummed. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
He breathed in shakily, then sighed.
“You see through me as if I’m transparent.” Jameson smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you, anyway.”
She groaned.
“Don’t try to use romance to get out of this, Jameson.”
“You love my romance.”
“You’re awful at it.”
“I’m fantastic at it.” Her fingers raked through his hair. He sighed. “It’s stupid.”
“Is it?” Jameson looked back at her. “For two nights straight, you’ve come to my bedroom. For those two nights, you cried yourself to sleep. It’s not stupid.”
He paused.
“God, you probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” He tilted his head back, resting on her shoulder. His lips upturned into a grin.
“Not pathetic; just– glad you can be vulnerable around me.”
Jameson thumbed at his tie, closing his eyes.
“You’ll love me, even with whatever issues I have going on, right?” His voice was below a whisper, lip trembling as he gripped the tie. “You won’t- leave me?”
Avery’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Of course not.”
He nodded.
“I know I’m not the most– emotionally available; insensitive, I know I am.” He’d murmured. “I do dangerous shit; I don’t take anything-”
“Jameson, what are you getting at?”
The Hawthorne chuckled, voice cracking slightly.
“This family- we’re fucked.” His eyes flew open. “ She fucked us up even more.”
She was Emily.
“That’s beside the point. I-” He cleared his throat, voice brittle. “The stupid games, it’s the only thing keeping me sane at this point.” He shook his head, smiling. “God, I sound stupid.”
“Don’t say that. Keep going.”
“This shitty laser focus, it was made for these games.” He was referring to Tobias. “The first game,” when she inherited the will. “It was to taunt me, I swear. He knew .”
The first game’s code was her birthday, also Emily’s death date.
“ Fuck , I got so pissed at you-” Avery grabbed his hands and held them in hers, running her thumbs over his knuckles. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His voice cracked.
“You were reasonably angry. He used her–” she cut herself off. “For a code in one of his games. You had all reason to be frustrated.”
Jameson remained silent.
“Don’t blame yourself for anything; he was never a good man, but that doesn’t mean you’re bad too.”
“What if I am?”
“Then I would’ve left you by now.”
He smiled.
“Good decision, Heiress.”
“I know.” She lifted his right hand and pressed a kiss to it. He let out a startled noise.
“Aren’t I supposed to do that?!”
“Who said?”
“..Good point.”