𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄𝐒 🝮 𝒳𝒶𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇 ℋ𝒶𝓌𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇𝓃ℯ

NINE

1K!???!!? OH MY GOD. I AM NOT WORTHY.

[y/n]
—————

"The first scone is what I like to call the practice scone," Xander said, shoving an entire scone into his mouth. He handed one to Avery, swallowing and continuing his lecture. "It is not until the third—nay, fourth—scone that you develop any scone-eating expertise."

"Scone-eating expertise," Avery replied in a deadpan.

"Your nature is skeptical," Xander noted. "That will serve you well in these halls, but if there is one universal truth in the human experience, it is that a finely honed scone-eating palate does not just develop overnight."

"The consumption of scones is an art, Ave," I added, remembering my many scone-eating experiences with Mr. Hawthorne. He was obsessed with them. "The texture, the flavor, the crumble- all must be identified in order to maximize your scone-consuming experience. You can't just inhale the scone. You have to appreciate it."

"Why are we standing here talking about scones?" Avery asked, sounding annoyed. She looked at Xander "Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

"I do hate you," he replied, happily devouring his third scone. "If you notice, I have kept the blueberry confections for myself and gave you" -he shuddered, eyeing Avery's scone with disdain- "the LEMON-flavored scones. Such is the depth of my loathing for you personally and on principle."

He handed me a blueberry scone under the table.

The corners of my mouth threatened to turn upwards in a smile. If this was his attempt at a peace offering, it was working.

I took the scone from his hand.

"This isn't a joke," Avery said.

"Why would I hate you, Avery?" Xander asked finally, his voice filled with emotion that hadn't been there before. "You aren't the one who did this."

Tobias Hawthorne had.

Guilt smashed into me. I could, possibly, have been the only person in the world that knew that the Hawthorne family would be disinherited by the old man since the very beginning. I had just never really considered how it would affect them.

But now I had been disinherited, too.

"Maybe you're blameless." Xander shrugged. "Maybe you're the evil genius that Gray seems to think you are, but at the end of the day, even if you thought that you'd manipulated our grandfather into this, I guarantee that he'd be the one manipulating you."

"Your grandfather was a piece of work," Avery told Xander.

Ain't that the truth.

He picked up a fourth scone. "I agree. In his honor, I eat this scone." At that, he shoved it into his mouth. "Want me to show you to your rooms now?"

"Just point us in the right direction," Avery told him.

"About that..." Xander made a face. "There's a chance that Hawthorne House is just a tiny bit hard to navigate. Imagine  to, if you will, that a labyrinth had a baby with Where Waldo?, only Waldo is your rooms." 

In a weird way, that actually made sense.

"Hawthorne House had an unconventional layout," Avery translated.

Xander devoured a fifth a scone. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?"

—————

"Hawthorne House is the largest privately owned residential home in the state of Texas," Xander said, leading Avery an I up a staircase. "I could give you a number for square footage, but it would only be an estimate. The thing that truly separates Hawthorne House from other obscenely large, castle-like structures isn't so much its size as its nature. My grandfather added at least one room or wing every year. Imagine, if you will, that an M.C. Escher drawing conceived a child with Leonardo da Vinci's most masterful designs..."

I smiled at Xander's description of Mr. Hawthorne's yearly additions to the House. One year, when I was ten, the old man had let me decide on an addition to make.

I chose an ice rink.

"Why an ice rink, my dear?" He asked, cracking a smile. He leaned against his cane as we sat at the picnic table. I was drawing up the blueprints, humming Part of Your World from the Little Mermaid.

And, yes, he made me make the blueprints.

I shrugged. "I just figure it would be nice to have one."

"Stop," Avery ordered. "New rule: You're no longer allowed to use any terminology for baby-making when describing this house or its occupants—including yourself."

Melodramatically, Xander brought a hand to his chest. "Harsh."

Avery shrugged. "My house, my rules."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "You suck actual ass, Avery."

Xander gawked.

"Too soon?" Avery asked.

"I'm a Hawthorne," Xander replied. "It's never too soon to start trash-talking." He resumed his tour of the house. "Now, as I was saying, the East Wing is actually the Northeast Wing, located on the second floor. If you get lost, just look for the old man." Xander nodded toward a portrait hanging on the wall. "This was his wing, these last few months."

Oh, God. I gaped at the portrait, probably looking extremely stupid.

But my last time seeing even an image of Mr. Hawthorne was before he passed, so what am I supposed to do? Tell myself it doesn't make me want to break down crying on the spot?

"I never even met him," Avery said quietly, looking at Xander. "I'd remember if I had."

"Are you sure?" Xander asked her.

My mind was still blank from the shock of the scarily accurate painting. No sarcastic quips came from my lips, not that I could even think of any. And considering the fact that Avery was in the same room as me, that's quite surprising.

As Avery left to explore the wing, I still stood staring. I didn't care if I looked stupid. I was trying to keep those damn tear ducts of mine from leaking.

—————

HELP IM SO SORRY I HAVENT UPDATED!!!!

I feel really bad, but I was busy with my YouTube channel and also moving across the country, so things got a little complicated (to say the least).

I hope yall liked this chapter!! And blow up my phone fr, I want a buttload of comments breaking my storage.

Also, thanks so so so much for 1k!!! I never expected this book to get that many reads lol