6. What about you?

SERA

I stepped out of Reggie's study with my mind spinning. Reggie had clearly taken the wrong approach. Instead of giving his sons a choice, he'd given them an ultimatum. I knew he had a good reason, I really did, but I hoped he could differentiate between family and business relationships.

As I descended the stairs, I caught a glimpse of a black car speeding out of the driveway through the large window. I rubbed my temples; this was definitely not going to be easy.

“Good morning, Miss,” Grant greeted me with his usual smile. He studied my face for a moment before returning to setting the breakfast table. “Couldn't sleep again last night?”

I nodded. He always seemed to be able to figure things out just from my face. “I suppose waking up a bit later wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?”

Grant chuckled softly. “Your habit of waking up early is impressive—though sometimes, a little alarming. Tea this morning?”

“Tea sounds lovely,” I replied. I glanced back out the window, hesitating for a moment before asking, “But... who was that in the car that just left?”

“That was Mr. Ace,” he replied politely as he poured tea into a small white cup.

Just as I suspected. It was Ace.

“Where did he say he was going?” I probed, pulling out a chair and sipping my green tea. Grant always had a way of knowing things, even if no one told him directly.

“He didn’t say anything, Miss, and he was walking too quickly for me to ask.”

I sighed, my worry deepening. Ace seemed determined to let everyone in this house know just how pissed off he was.

Before I could press further, Grant added, “Oh, and Mr. Damon left quite early—before sunrise, actually. He hasn’t come back yet.”

“Damon?” I repeated. Did he leave after our brief chat? My cheeks warmed slightly when I suddenly felt his thumb on my chin again.

I shook my head quickly, pushing the silly memory away.

“What’s happening with everyone this morning?” I muttered, then looked back at Grant. “And Cal? Did he leave too?”

Grant smiled faintly. “Mr. Cal is at the gym, Miss. He's been there for about an hour. It seems he's … letting off some steam.”

I raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle tone in Grant’s words. A new clue. I thanked him and made my way to the gym in the mansion’s right wing, following the rhythmic sounds of punches growing louder. The thud of gloves hitting the heavy bag and the sound of labored breathing became clearer as I neared the doorway.

The first thing I saw was Cal’s back, his black T-shirt clinging to him, soaked in sweat. His punches were sharp and forceful, like he was channeling all his frustration into the poor bag. I couldn’t see his face, but the tension in his body spoke volumes.

“Looks like the punching bag doesn’t stand a chance against you,” I said lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Cal froze mid-punch, his chest rising and falling as he turned to glance at me. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His expression softened slightly when he saw me, but the anger in his eyes was still unmistakable

“Hey, morning,” he greeted me, then returned to pummeling the hapless black object hanging there.

I stepped inside, folding my arms. “A little birdie told me you might be letting off some steam.”

Cal paused again then grabbed a towel to wipe his face. He gave me a faint smile as he quipped, “Would that little birdie happen to be bald and wearing a perfectly tailored suit?”

My jaw dropped for a second before I laughed softly. “He would poison your food if he knew you used that word to describe him.”

“My bad,” he said, smirking.

Shaking my head, I tried to steer the conversation back to the reason I was here. Our gazes locked as I walked closer. “Something on your mind?”

Cal exhaled, his smile fading. He pulled off his gloves and set them on a small bench before sitting down himself. “Reggie wants us to drop everything and stay here. He seems to forget that our lives don’t just stop because he decided to call us here.”

It was just like Ace's problem. And I could understand. “And you feel it’s unfair to leave your patients behind?” I asked gently.

His brooded eyes met mine, their dark depths filled with frustration he was trying to conceal. “They need me. I have responsibilities, and I can’t just abandon them because Reggie says, ‘drop everything and come here.’”

I leaned toward the punching bag, speaking softly. “I understand,” I said, trying to penetrate his thoughts, to find something tangled there and untangle it. “And honestly, that does sound like Reggie. Always wanting to control everything.”

“You know Reggie way better than we do. How can he be so sure that this—all of this—will work?”

I continued to look at Cal, still searching for what I was looking for. “Reggie’s always certain of his plans, but… he also knows how to force things to go his way.”

Cal chuckled softly, but there was bitterness in his tone. “Yeah, that’s true.” He paused, taking a deep breath. I still couldn't guess what was on his mind. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Ace isn’t handling it well either,” I said. “I just came from Reggie’s office—Ace left looking like he was ready to explode. And now he’s gone who-knows-where.”

“What about you?” Cal asked suddenly, making me straighten up.

“What about me?”

His eyes studied me for a long moment, as if searching for something. No, don’t. I was supposed to be the one digging into his thoughts, not the other way around.

“I was watching you when Reggie made that announcement. It surprised you.” He paused. He seemed to be searching for the right words. “And it worries me”

“He always has a way of surprising me.” I tried to build a defense for myself—and maybe for Reggie too. “Reggie must have his reasons.” Whether I was saying that for Cal or myself, the fact was that it was a sentence that had been deeply rooted in my mind. Reggie must have his reasons.

“If things don’t go as planned, maybe I should tell him clearly. And more firmly.”

For the first time during this conversation, I smiled genuinely. I appreciated Cal's initiative, but Reggie's match was me. “Oh, you don't need to worry about that. I'll talk to him. He'll listen to me.”

“If anyone can make Reggie change his mind, it’s only you.” He seemed hesitant, but there was relief in his expression. “By the way, when I said I was worried about you, I meant it. Are you okay?”

There were words at the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I couldn’t say them. I rubbed the back of my hand, offering him a reassuring smile instead. “I’m good.”

Cal stood up, his gaze serious. His hand reached out, lightly touching my arm. “You know you don't have to force yourself to take care of all of us, right? I don't want you to feel burdened.”

“Don’t worry about me, Cal,” I said softly, patting his hand. But it seemed he misinterpreted it, because he quickly let his hand drop to his side. “You don't need to force yourself to … you know, what Reggie said about—”

Cal’s smile was gentle, full of concern. “I understand.”

We shared a moment of silence, communicating more in that stillness than with words. Finally, to break the awkwardness, I tapped the punching bag lightly. “Go easy on this poor thing, Cal. We’ve only got one, and I don’t think it’s tougher than you.”

He just chuckled. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease slightly. I gave him a small smile before leaving the gym, my mind already working through a plan to ease the tension between the Blackwood brothers and Reggie.

***

141224, Anne Joyce