Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

DRAVEN

It is times like these I remember just how neglected my boy has been his entire life. No one took any time with him. No one taught Tavish how to care for himself, how to shop for himself, not even how to buy groceries.

It's extremely sad that a man twenty-five years old and smart as my boy is, cannot even buy groceries or know how to choose fresh fruits and vegetables. It's probably why he spends all o' his days eating chips and gummy candies, whilst drinking juice and energy drinks.

I finish picking out a few items, including some healthy snacks for the car, as well as some cutlery and storage items, before getting us out o' the store. Back in the car, I hand Tavish some o' the prepackaged items before looking for a spot for us both to rest for a while.

"What's this?" he asks.

When I glance at him, his nose is curled up in disgust.

"Just try it. It's a healthy option for all the potato chips ye eat."

The package crinkles as he tears into it and I cannae help but smirk as he sniffs the food, then touches his tongue to it. Sniffing it one last time, he pops it in his mouth.

"Hmm. Not bad." He looks back at the bag and asks, "What are lentils?"

"Food."

"Are you sure? I've never heard of it."

"I'm positive, lad. I'm also positive we're adding some life skills education to Daddy's to-do list."

"After the kink talk, right? Because I need sex and a spanking like yesterday."

My head hits the head rest as laughter overcomes me. I do not know what I did before I met this boy. He baffles me and confuses the fuck out o' me, but he makes me laugh—in ways that Simon never did it. When I first met Tavish, anytime he did things I'd nae experienced since Simon or any time Tavish made me happy, I felt like I was betraying Simon. But the more time I've spent with Tavish, the more I have realized that I'm not betraying Simon.

I am doing exactly what Simon would want.

I'm living.

All Simon ever wanted for me was happiness. And I ken that since he isnae here and he cannae be the one to give it to me, then he would be ecstatic that Tavish is.

Spotting a hotel up ahead, I pull into the parking lot.

"Sit tight. I'll be right back," I tell him.

Without looking at me, he nods, still shoving snacks in his face. I grab his chin, making sure he's paying attention, and repeat, "Sit tight. I'll be back."

"Okay, Arnold."

I steal a quick kiss from him before getting out o' the car. I roll my eyes at the boy's movie references. References I almost never understand, but luckily for me, he has a penchant for movies older than he is. Hell, some o' them are older than I am.

I head into the hotel and secure us a room quickly. I head back to the car with a relieved sigh. It wasnae until I was inside that I realized I just left him unprotected in a strange country. I dinnae even ken if Tavish carried identification or money. He never left the mansion. I dinnae ken if he even kenned how to drive.

I open his door and hold out my hand to him. "Let's get inside. We need proper food and some rest."

He nods, then snarks, "We could've had several naps on the plane, but someone refused to fuck me."

"Those two things have nothing to do with one another."

"Oh yes, they do, Daddy. Fucking means naps. With as long as that flight was, we could've had a bunch of naps."

His voice carries throughout the hotel lobby, and every head in the expansive space turns toward us. I look down at him and he's tucked himself behind my arm, trying to hide from the attention. I cannae help but chuckle at the boy. He makes a scene and then hides from it.

"Embarrass yerself, pojke?" I ask.

He nods. He looks around and seeing that people's gazes are traveling away from us, he says, "I didn't realize my voice would carry like that."

Stooping to place a kiss on his forehead, I say, "Well, now ye do."

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Dinnae fash yerself, lilla du. I dinnae give a fuck what these people think."

A smile lights up his face and the confidence that embarrassment stole from him returns and he struts out in front o' me with his head held high and a smirk on his lips.

At the elevator I say, "I'm proud o' ye, Tavish, but iffn anyone had the right to strut like a peacock, it would be me."

More smiles and some happy squirming ensue during our ride up the floors. I hope, eventually, the bratty little is comfortable enough to chatter away like a magpie at me. It may never happen. Tavish is pretty quiet, but one can hope.

The doors slide open, and I lead us down the hall to our room. Opening the door, I wave Tavish in ahead o' me. He stops dead in his tracks. I step up next to him, looking down at him, and I grin. His mouth has dropped open. As I look around the room, and after having lived in the little cottage next to Bridget for so long, I can see the appeal and why he's probably locked up tight.

The room is massive. One o' the largest and nicest I've ever stayed in. I may have spent the last few years o' my childhood in an orphanage, but before that, I had an extremely privileged upbringing. Once I came o' age and came into my inheritance, I treated Simon and myself to every luxury I could. Now it is time to do the same for Tavish.

The boy had lived amidst some o' the wealthiest men in the world, but he'd been sorely neglected. I'd asked Damon and Zayn about the boy, and both said he'd been kept under lock and key. I dinnae ken if Tavish even went to school. He's fucking bright, but he's experienced nothing o' life. This is just the first o' many experiences I'm making sure he gets to have.

"Wow!" he whispers in awe.

"I've always wanted to stay here, but Simon and I werenae able to make the trip," I say, leaving him standing in the entryway while I head to the kitchenette with the few items I got from the market.

After a few moments, his silence draws my attention, and he's chewing his lips again. I hate how hesitant he can be at times. Before I can pull him out o' whatever thoughts he's lost in, my phone rings.

I glance at the screen, swearing under my breath as I answer.

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Why? What's wrong?" I answer vaguely.

"Tavish is missing."

I want to lie to them, but I dinnae. "He's nae lost. He's with me."

"Thank fuck!"

In the background, I hear Everly demand the phone, so I wait for her to come on the line.

"We've been searching high and low for him. He went missing from the back of the van while we were taking out Elijah."

Waving to Tavish, he joins me at the bar in the kitchen. I lay the phone down on the counter and turn the speakerphone on. "He's here with me, Everly.

"Tavish! Are you okay?"

"Yes, Everly. I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

"Why on earth did you leave the van? Did something happen?"

He stares up at me, and I answer for him. "I took him from the van, Everly. He was too exposed. Luckily, I did because Samuel showed up."

They dinnae need all the details.

"Did he see you, Tavish?" Everly asks.

Tavish's eyes well up and he nods.

"Go start the shower, mo ghille. I'll be there in a bit," I tell him.

"I need to speak with him, Draven."

Tavish stops. Picking the phone up, I take it off speaker and point toward the shower. I wait until he's in the bathroom before walking to close the bedroom door.

"To answer your question about Samuel, yes, he saw Tavish. To answer your question about where we are, we're in Scotland. Samuel chased us through the city. We just barely got away from the bastard. Instead o' bringing them down on the mansion, I brought Tavish to Scotland to hide him away."

She curses, then relays the info to whomever is there with her. When she comes back on the phone, she says, "Ghosts are supposed to leave their prior lives behind."

"I'm aware, but the safest place for my boy isnae in that fucking basement. He's been locked and hidden away for fucking years. All he's ever experienced is imprisonment, abuse, and neglect. He deserves to experience life. So, while he's searching for Samuel, I'm going to make sure he can live a little."

She hums, but disnae say anything for sometime. I'm about at the end o' my patience when she says, "Okay. Just keep us in the loop."

"Will do." I hang up the phone, tossing it on the counter before heading to the bathroom.