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“Where are you going?” I asked him.
After everything it has taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away.
“To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.”
- Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Inheritance Games
Jameson Hawthorne: NOW
The tabloids thought that Jameson loved alcohol. They weren’t entirely wrong.
He loved the buzz it gave him, and how free it made him feel.
It didn’t hurt that Hawthornes were blessed with one of the highest alcohol tolerances known to man./p>
Did he love the actual drinks themselves? Hell no. For a majority of his life, he didn't see the point in alcohol. But the first time he'd had something that actually hit-
It was a beautiful feeling and he enjoyed it so much.
Maybe too much.
Jameson had been at his first gala when Nash handed him a glass of wine. He took it. He’d seen the adults drink during dinner before, but never took any sips, since being drunk felt like a hindrance. But there wasn’t much he could do that day and the function was dragging on and on. He had his first glass of wine at thirteen years old.
It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.
But that didn’t stop him from trying a shot at a party one night. Country Day had won a state golf tournament, and everyone was gathered at the house of some rich socialite. There were whiskey shots lined up on the table, and an open bar. Jameson tried some whiskey, conveniently named after himself.
It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.
Oh how that’s changed, he thought, moving out of the living room, and going upstairs.
Jameson Hawthorne: Age 17
Emily Laughlin left the world after Jameson turned 17. And, he supposed, she took Grayson with her. Their former bond was irreparably wrecked. And Jameson felt that the only reason he’d mourned for so long was because he’d lost his brother too. His closest brother. His favorite. His first friend. They had done everything together when they were younger, and now they couldn't be in the same room as each other. Their longest argument before had lasted a grand total of three days, and both had been miserable and forgot about the problem after two hours. This one seemed significantly worse.
But he'd loved Emily as well. He had. They had done so much together in such little time. She understood him better than anyone, she understood everything. They were both trapped when all they wanted was to be free. He thought she loved him. And she died.
He was so tired. So tired.
The next day, three bottles were missing from the wine cellar. Smashed glass of a Scottish whiskey bottle was found on the grass, almost as it it had been dropped from the roof.
Jameson snuck into the cellar for what may have been the second time that week. He relished the adrenaline high he got when he drank, and had developed a taste for whiskey.
He reached for the nearest bottle, but it moved.
His lips parted in confusion, and his eyes widened as they fell on Tobias Hawthorne himself.
The usual teasing smile on the man’s face had gone and he was frowning at Jameson.
“This is enough.”
Jameson held back an eyeroll, and Tobias continued. “Over a thousand dollars of drinks are gone, and you’re giving the tabloids something worse and worse each month.”
Jameson gritted his teeth. “It’s always about you, isn’t it, Grandfather? Does it matter how I feel? Never! It’s always the tabloids and what they think!”
His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “The girl is dead.”
It’s not about Emily.
“She’s been dead for several months.”
It’s never been about Emily.
“It’s been too long.”
But you think it is-
“Once we leave, this door will lock, and the key is going to be hidden exactly where you think it is.”
-because it’s less painful to think about her than ... other people.
Jameson turned to leave, and promptly crashed into a wall, falling over. Oh crap, how much did I drink?
I'm wasted.
“I should not find you here again.”
Jameson knew better than to go against his grandfather. “Fine.” And he actually left the room, managing to make it back to his room in one piece.
Change didn't come quickly. But Jameson was a Hawthorne, and Hawthornes can do everything.
Jameson Hawthorne: Age 18
Jameson avoided the cellar like the plague.
He knew his grandfather, and he knew himself. There had to be traps in the hallway and stairs, Tobias would never leave something with just a warning.
It wasn't easy. He was miserable (Ask Nash). But he found himself reaching back towards the coffee bar, and slowly regaining back his abilities as a barista.
Jameson had spent a year cultivating his cooking skills, and used an entire month developing his coffee. Now, he found it therapeutic, following the same instructions, or even trying something new.
And that was how he found himself reaching one month, fully sober.
His birthday came and went. He drank coffee.
So did Grayson’s. He drank coffee then, too.
They still didn’t talk and it made Jameson want to rip his hair out. (Again, no one said it would be easy abruptly quitting alcohol.)
But a few weeks later, Tobias Hawthorne died.
Jameson went to the cellar.
There were no traps anywhere. The key was inside the lock, and when he went inside, there was a note on the whiskey.
I’m sorry. I wanted better for you.
Nash had run out of his stash of cheap vodka and had told a slightly less drunk Grayson to get some more whiskey.
He went to the wine cellar, looking for a bottle, and instead found his brother, already gone through multiple drinks.
Their consciousness had passed the point of rivalries, and spent the night sharing a few bottles of whiskey. Their drunken laments were somehow understood by each other, and after a few more drinks, they didn’t need words to communicate anymore. Had they not been blackout drunk, one would’ve thought they were seven again, seemingly talking with more than words.
Grayson woke up the next morning, on a couch across from his brother.
He left the room immediately.
Jameson woke up a few hours later with a killer hangover, and figured he messed the couch up while drunk.
Interesting feeling. Jameson got drunk often, but never to the point of blacking out. Getting that drunk gave him a killer hangover and rendered him useless for about half the day.
He smelled tequila, something he had never developed a taste for. Grayson was the only person in the house who drank it, and Jameson knew better than to touch that corner of the wine cellar.
What the hell did I do?
Grayson never told him.
No one usually checked on Jameson, and after Tobias had died, no one went to the backyard either.
Of course, she wasn’t no one.
She found him on the balcony railing, drunk and shirtless, and the first thing he had done was give her a riddle. He didn’t know why Tobias had required her presence, but he was going to make it fun for himself.
And she'd solved it, too. Maybe she's more than just a puz-
NO.
He would’ve gone down for more bourbon, but the house was Avery’s now, even though she probably didn’t know that it even existed.
Avery.
Tobias Hawthorne usually had a reason behind every one of his actions, but Jameson couldn’t figure out his reasoning behind this one.
And that made her all the more fun.
Bourbon might be good for me, if I get to meet pretty girls.
He mentally slapped himself. That’s not fair.
They had a connection.
He tried to deny it, but they had a connection.
He’d connected with his grandfather. He’d connected with Grayson. He thought he’d connected with Emily, and all three had left him. (Though things seemed to be getting better with Gray.)
Or so he thought.
Then he found out she was in the coma.
He went down to the wine cellar, and reached for the bottle of vodka.
And then he paused.
Do I want to be drunk when she’s awake?
Do I want to forget?
But I don’t want to feel…
But she will wake up. And when she does, I’m going to do everything right.
Jameson walked out of the cellar and locked the door. And that means no more day drinking.
Goodbye, room. I owe you a lot.
Avery wasn’t going to die.
But when Alisa moved her out of the hospital, Jameson had to be held back by Xander and Grayson from almost punching her in the face.
“She could’ve died!” He yelled, his voice growing hoarse with volume. “No amount of money is worth her life, Alisa! You had no right-“
“It had to be done, Jameson.”
“No it didn’t! She-“
“One of us is a professional, and it isn’t you. The situation isn’t ideal-”
“Ideal?” He choked out. To even plan for this scenario… “Damnit, Alisa.”
Nash walked out of Avery’s room with Libby, and upon seeing his brother about to throw hands with Alisa, dragged Jameson toward his room. He offered Jameson a bottle of whiskey, and his eyebrows shot up when Jameson refused.
“No? It’s been long few days, Jamie," Nash sat down next to Jameson. "and there used to be a time where you weren’t seen without at least a drink down.”
Jameson nodded, staring at his hands. “Need to be sober if she wakes up.”
“When. She’ll wake up. She’s strong, Jameson.”
“She is.”
Avery woke up later that week, and Jameson almost collapsed with relief.
Jameson Hawthorne: NOW
Jameson reached the roof and stared at the sky.
Once in a lifetime, you meet someone you love so much, you become a better version of yourself for them.
The moon shined down as Jameson dug through his pockets. He opened the small velvet box, and the light reflected off the diamond on the ring.
I love you with more than words.
Thank you for being mine, Avery Kylie Grambs.