Theo remembered all the times he’d been unnecessarily cruel to him. How he had taken it, stoically. As if that were just the price of admission—to bear the teasing, the bullying, and quietly prove his worth. To make his world a better place.

And he had. Theo shifted in his leather wingback chair, carrying a load of guilt for who he had been.

And his son sat across from him, not looking guilty in the least, though he was.

Charles had called him around ten that night. Theo’d been going over his investment portfolio—his friends didn’t need his money anymore, but he kept an eye on their success, Genni with her real estate business, and Phil running his tech company, and Tom with his restaurant in New Orleans—and he had just changed into his dressing gown. Hoping to get a good night’s sleep; praying that he wouldn’t dream about—

But there was Charles’s voice on the phone, still sounding nervous but, he had to admit it, with a much more commanding and confident presence than he had remembered.

Now, in this office filled with leather-bound books, formal but comfortable chairs, and a collection of rare orchids, Theo wanted to look at anything other than Jasper’s defiant pose. His son’s eyes darted between Theo and Charles, and he arranged his face in an expression of remorse.

Like that was going to work. Theo had practically invented that particular pout.

Charles looked at them both, eyes flitting back and forth, placid but with a hint of nervous energy. Occasionally he’d look away, gaze darting toward a closet—Theo thought that maybe Charles was still afraid of him, and he felt terrible.

He sighed heavily and turned back to his only child. “Jasper Diarmuid Beaumont. Would you care to tell me why I’ve been called here at ten at night?”

Jasper fiddled with the sleeves of his pajamas sticking out from under his jacket. He muttered something inaudible.

“Go on, Jazz.” This from Charles, who sounded altogether too forgiving.

“I—I—” He managed the well-bred Beaumont tone, but his face shifted: stubborn, mutinous, with a hint of self-righteousness.

It was actually a bit funny. Also quite irritating.

It sounded suspiciously like a Gardner.

“You what?”

“I just had to get out of the dorms, Dad.”

Oh sure, in that case...

“This is something you had to do now, when you should have been in bed?”

“Well...” He lingered on the word, drawing it out. “It’s my campus. I live here. I just wanted to go for a walk.”