Done Deal - Max Henry Page 0,2

laptop. “I sent their submissions back to a select few by way of Messenger. The shots circulating the feeds today must have come from opportunistic bottom-feeders.”

Dad sighs heavily, one hand dragging down his face. “Regardless, you started this.”

“I know.”

Our father shakes his head slowly, gaze fixed firmly on Colt. “I thought I raised you with more morals than this.”

“You did,” my brother offers softly. “Mum didn’t.”

“Let’s not fall down that well right now,” I state, breaking their intense stare-off. “Dad, we screwed up—”

“You weren’t involved in this,” Colt interjects.

I hold my hand up to urge him to let me finish. “And there will be plenty of time to decide on an adequate punishment later. Right now, we have to figure out how to put out the fires we already started.” I hesitate to swallow. “And, we need your guidance.”

Our father glances at each of us in turn before settling his gaze on the tabletop before his hands. “I can’t even place a name to what I feel right now,” he reveals, brow knitted tight. “Shame? Anger? Maybe even a little fear?” His clouded eyes bore into us in turn. “There are some real, adult consequences on the table here.”

“I know,” Colt murmurs.

“Did it cross your mind at all before you cooked up this scheme?”

My brother shrugs a singular shoulder.

“I take that as a no, then.”

“What would you have done?” I ask quietly.

I’m sick of our parents lambasting us for our choices on the one hand and then revealing they did much the same at our age on the other. There appears to be way too much pot calling the kettle black for my liking.

“I don’t know,” Dad answers quietly.

“Mum’s family didn’t like you at the start, did they?” Colt asks.

Dad shakes his head, staring back down at his hands.

“How did you handle that?”

“By ignoring them to begin with,” he explains. “And then when that became frustrating, I figured I’d beat them at their own game and prove upbringing means jack shit when it comes to success.”

“But it did, didn’t it?” Colt states.

“Only because I got slack.” Dad sighs, stretching his arms out across the wooden surface. “I became complacent. Forgot that our friends were nothing of the sort and stopped approaching every situation from their point of view.”

My eyes widen at his explanation of it all. He’s so right. Colt and I approached this whole affair from the viewpoint of our hurt ego. If we wanted to find the best way to impact our peers, we should have put ourselves in their shoes.

Every one of us has a reason for the hurt we cause. Be it directed from our selfish desires, or the influence of others, nothing is done without an expected result. And I don’t talk about the harm inflicted.

“They just want to be loved,” I blurt.

“What?” Colt asks.

Both he and Dad swing their heads to face me.

“Okay, so hear me out.” I straighten in my seat at the dining table, placing my elbows on the surface—my mother would be horrified. “To some degree, there are ones like Christian who get a kick out of playing games with people, but,” I state loudly to show I don’t want to be interrupted. “Think about why the others treat us the way they do.”

Dad’s eyes dart over points on the table while he mulls it over. Colt simply shrugs.

“Who taught them those beliefs?” I hint.

“Their parents,” Dad says.

“Exactly.” I scoot a little closer to the front of my seat. “Take me as an example. I knew everything I did with Libby was wrong. I was well aware that the way we treated our peers was mean. But I did it anyway. Why?”

“Because you wanted to keep Mum happy,” Colt supplies.

“Right.” I wave a pointer finger his way. “I don’t expect the steadfast ones like Libby and Richard to sway overnight but look at the others. They already show signs of remorse, of questioning what it is they do.”

Dad leans in.

“Christian set up Marion today, right?”

Colt nods. “He’s also spoken to me in the past about wanting to make his father proud by showing he can conduct his own savvy investment without any help.”

“Right. And Greer has completely turned around.”

Dad’s gaze flicks to my brother.

I choose to question that later. “Ingrid acts like a wounded bull half the time, and before we moved out here, Barrett revealed something pretty big to me.”

“What?” Dad asks.

I glance at him, and then to Colt. “I think the reason why he hasn’t been around is that