Chapter 16

Fraser

I almost drop my coffee, my mouth flying open in shock.

I"m about to have a heart attack.

One minute, I"m watching Evie"s pre-taped segment about Developmental Disabilities Awareness Month.

And the next…the next, they cross live to her from the studio. For some unknown reason, she"s on top of the tallest building in the state of California. She chats with the anchor, being unusually vague, and then she HURLS HERSELF OFF THE BUILDING!

Panic seizes my chest as I stare at the TV screen. The camera pans out, capturing her tiny frame side-on plummeting toward the ground.

Yes, I can see she"s wearing a harness.

Yes, I know she"s attached to a cord.

Yes, I"m sure they would have taken every single safety precaution known to mankind to ensure nothing happens to her or to any of the other people doing the jump with her.

But right now, all I"m seeing is Evie plunging toward the street, and I AMNOT OKAY.

She stops a good fifteen, twenty feet off the ground, before rebounding back up, doing that bouncy thing that happens at the tail end of a bungee jump.

"She"s okay, she"s okay," I mutter to myself, reaching for a bottle of water on my bedside table.

I bring it to my lips with a shaky hand and take a few sips.

She may be okay, but she"s still dangling upside down.

A couple of guys in bright-blue polo shirts run over and unclip her, carefully bringing her to her feet.

She"s on the ground.

She"s upright.

She"s safe.

I let out the breath I must"ve been holding since this action nightmare scenario began ten years ago, because that"s how long it feels like these past few seconds have lasted.

"How are you feeling, Evie?" Mark Merril asks.

Someone hands Evie a KCFB microphone. Strands of hair cling to her cheeks and forehead, and her cheeks are flushed a bright red.

She smiles at the camera. "Oh, my goodness, Mark. That was beyond exhilarating, but let me tell you, I am very glad to be back on solid ground."

"I bet. Evie, how is everyone else doing?"

Evie waves to someone off-camera. A woman walks up beside her. "Gemma, hi! How was that?" Evie asks, positioning the microphone in front of her.

"So awesome!" Gemma smiles at the camera and gives the happiest two thumbs-up I"ve ever seen.

I grab my phone and fire off a message to Evie.

Fraser: Watching you live now. I didn"t think there was anything scarier than being forced to listen to punk music. I now know that there is…I *think* I"ve recovered from my heart attack, but the doctor says I can"t sustain any more shocks. I have practice now but will have a few hours free this afternoon before tonight"s game. Call me to check in on the patient? smiley face emoji>

Through the fogged-up shower pane, I see Evie"s number light up my screen. I"ve been keeping an eye on my phone all afternoon, waiting for her to call.

I turn the shower off, quickly dry my arms and chest, hook the towel around my waist, and answer the phone.

"Thanks for calling. You"ll be glad to know all my vitals are returning to normal and my medical bill to you is in the mail."

"Great. Just send it to Levi"s address, and I"ll grab it off him never."

I step out of the bathroom. "What"s wrong?"

"We"re bantering. I just volleyed back to you. How do you know something"s wrong?"

"I can hear it in your voice."

"Ugh," she sighs, giving up any pretense of being fine. "I"m totally bummed."

"Why? Are you facing a class-action lawsuit from other viewers who also had a heart attack while watching your segment this morning? Does that mean I"m not alone? Is there a support group I can join?"

Silence…and then, a tiny giggle.

It"s not much, but I"ll take it.

"Tell me what"s wrong," I say, injecting a seriousness into my voice to let her know I"m done messing around.

"Well, it is about the segment, but thankfully, it doesn"t involve lawsuits or viewer"s medical conditions." She pauses. "Like always, it comes down to the numbers. Seriously, if I had a quarter for every time I"ve said the word numbers this past year, I could retire early. I"m getting so sick and tired of this."

"I"m not following."

Another heavy breath. "I was hoping this morning"s segment would bring in massive ratings. Blockbuster ratings. I"ve been working so hard on this, thinking it was my big shot to finally get a breakout story. Maybe even go viral again. And, just as importantly, shine a light on a worthwhile cause. Show viewers that having a disability isn"t a life sentence and hopefully inspiring them to live their own lives more fully."

"I loved the pre-taped segment. I donated fifty thousand to the organization in your story."

"You did? Wow. That"s wonderful. Thank you so much."

"No. Thank you. I could tell you really care about the people you spoke with, that you"re genuinely invested. I"ve felt inspired all day."

She has no idea how much.

Seeing those folks, hearing their stories, gives me hope that Oakey can grow up and lead a normal—or pretty close to normal—life himself.

Another sigh comes through my speaker. "Unfortunately, the segment barely moved the needle. No traction on socials. No major outlet is picking it up. It"s crickets central over here."

I clench my jaw and keep my mouth shut to stop myself from blurting something about how frustrating that is. She doesn"t need me telling her that—I can hear the hurt and sadness in her voice loud and clear.

"Maybe I"m not cut out for this? Or maybe I should just give in and do what Mom"s been pressuring me to do and move to Washington and finally become a real reporter?"

"What do you want to do, Evie?"

She huffs out another sigh. "Honestly? I don"t know anymore. I"m so confused. I thought this would be it. That reporting would be my way to make a difference in the world. Something that I enjoyed, was good at, and served a higher purpose. But now I think I"ve been deluding myself this whole time."

"You haven"t. You are a great reporter. You work hard, you"re passionate about what you do, and you are talented. So, so talented."

"Thanks. I appreciate you saying that. I"ve still got a tiny bit of time left, so I"ll figure something out.

She says it, but she doesn"t sound like she means it.

She"s hurt, she"s down on herself, and she"s doubting her life choices while I"m stuck in Pittsburgh with no way of flying out for another surprise visit.

I hate this.

I want to be with her more than anything. I want to be by her side, figuring this out together. I want to be someone she can depend on.

Someone she can trust.

Someone she can confide in.

And that"s when it hits me…

If I want to be that person, it"s time I come clean to her about a few things.

Seven years ago, Fraser"s bedroom…

"Where have you been?"

My older brother"s deep growl scares the life out of me.

"What are you doing here, Trace?" I ask.

He flicks on the light, illuminating my bedroom. He"s standing by the door, arms folded, looking majorly peeved.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. It"s an unseasonably hot night. "Why are you in my room?"

"Answer my question."

"No. Newsflash, you"re not Dad, so I don"t have to tell you anything."

"Yes, you do." He marches over and fists my shirt, giving me a good shake.

I smack his hands away. "What is your problem?"

Trace is usually pretty uptight, but this is extreme. Even for him.

"Family meeting. Downstairs. Now." He stomps over to the door, then glares at me over his shoulder. "Now, Fraser."

"Okay, okay. I"m coming."

Geez.

I slip the present Evie gave me tonight into my top desk drawer and follow my irate brother downstairs.

It"s a non-filming night.

The house feels oddly quiet without cameras and crew everywhere when it should just feel normal.

But nothing feels normal anymore.

Not since Mom and Dad decided to put our lives on display for the whole country to tune into every week and pick apart every conversation, every argument, every carefully orchestrated scene for their viewing pleasure.

I hate it.

Trace and I step into the living room. Mom, Dad, Clayton, and Dawn are all there, sitting around with solemn looks on their faces. I"m tempted to joke, "Who died?" but I have the good sense not to since someone might have actually died. The vibe is that gloomy.

"What"s going on?" I ask as Dad says, "Where were you?"

"Nowhere."

I sit down beside Dawn. Her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks flushed. "Are you okay?" I whisper to her, but she only turns away from me.

"Effective immediately, we are making some changes," my father"s commanding voice fills the living room. "Filming is canceled."

My brothers and I stare at each other in disbelief.

"Are you serious?" Clayton cries out, visibly upset.

I"m in shock at Dad"s announcement, but the last thing I am is upset.

Good riddance, I say. If I never have another camera shoved in my face again, it"ll be too soon.

"We"re in the middle of filming the season," Clayton carries on. "We can"t just stop abruptly like this. We"ve signed contracts. Aren"t we obligated?"

"We are," Dad replies tersely. "And the network has already threatened legal action. But I"ll take care of that."

"Mom? Are you okay with this?" Clayton asks, turning to her as the obvious choice for support. Out of all of us, it"s him and Mom who are the most into the show.

"I am. I agree with your father," Mom answers Clay, before she slowly makes eye contact with the rest of us. "And from now on, we"re implementing a new rule. No one speaks to the press."

"No one," Dad reiterates, his voice practically a growl. "I don"t care what they ask you, what they say to you, or where they accost you. You are to remain tight-lipped and say nothing. Not even a no comment. Nothing."

"Why?" Trace speaks up. "Why are we doing this?"

"This is going to have huge implications," Clayton says, pushing to his feet. He begins pacing, charging his fingers through his hair. "We can"t stop filming. They won"t let us. We"re going to be in trouble. There will be repercussions."

Yeah, and you"ll stop being reality-TV-famous, I think to myself because that"s what he really cares about. But for the second time tonight, I manage to restrain myself.

"Sit down!" Dad barks.

Clayton stops mid-stride, stunned.

We"re all stunned.

Dad may be the CEO of a multimillion-dollar yachting business, but he"s normally a cool operator. I have never once seen him lose it. Least of all at one of us.

Clayton drops down into the nearest armchair.

Dad starts issuing orders. "Trace, you"ll be in the office with me. I need to fly to Croatia to meet with a client in a few days. You"ll come, too."

Trace nods. By Dad"s side is his happy place, but even he can read the situation enough to know this isn"t a celebration.

I don"t really know what this is. I"m still confused about what"s actually going on.

"Clayton, you"re going to do that six month trek you"ve wanted to do in Southeast Asia."

"What? I can"t leave now. I"ve almost reached a million followers on Insta?—"

"That"s a good point," Dad cuts him off. "No more posting on social media. In fact, delete all your social media accounts." He waves his finger at us. "All of you."

His steely blue eyes land on me. "And Fraser…"

I gulp.

"You"re off to hockey training camp first thing in the morning."

"Training camp isn"t until summer."

"You"re going to a different camp."

"I am? Where?"

"Quebec. You"ll be away for three months."

"What about school? Graduation?"

"I don"t know. We"ll figure something out. You"ll graduate, son. Don"t worry."

I"m scrambling to keep up with all of this. My whole world is getting turned upside down in front of me.

And why?

Neither Dad nor Mom have yet to give us one good reason for any of this.

I look at my father. "I leave…tomorrow?"

He nods.

The first thought that pops into my head is, I have to go back and see Evie, tell her what"s going on. But of course, I can"t say that since no one knows about our late-night chats.

I know—I"ll use Levi as my cover. It"s normal I"d want to bid farewell to my bestie. Yeah, that won"t arouse any suspicions.

"Okay. I"ll just go over and say goodbye to Levi?—"

"No. You speak to no one."

"Excuse me?"

My father"s nostrils flare. Up until right now, I"d never once noticed my father"s nostrils.

"What is going on, Dad? Why are you suddenly forcing us to uproot our lives and change everything?"

"Because I"m pregnant," Dawn cries out beside me, her anguish palpable.

All heads swivel in her direction.

She stands and throws her arms in the air. "I"m pregnant, okay? And I"m sorry I"ve ruined everyone"s lives."

And with that, she storms out of the room.