Keeping Gavin - Jenny Wood Page 0,1

me to like him. It didn’t take long, though I was a tough person to get to know. Embarrassed by my situation, as any high school orphan would be, I was afraid of becoming more of an outcast than I already was. I’d felt as though no one truly understood me, and I was moody, angsty, and quietly gay. I knew that I was attracted to guys, but I’d never had anyone to talk to about it, and my state-appointed caseworker had told me to hide it the best that I could. I had sought her advice about the matter, no clue as to why. She seemed knowledgeable, I guess, and my young mind wanted answers.

I was under no illusion by then, so I listened to her. I knew that kids over the age of ten rarely got adopted, and if I advertised that I was flawed, my chances would be even slimmer to none. I knew that a forever home wasn’t likely in the cards for me, but I always secretly hoped. I kept quiet, confused, and oblivious for a lot of years. Until Donald, really.

Having a lifetime of abandonment and trust issues, I fell hard and fast for him. He was so sincere and genuine with his friendship, and he never wanted anything from me or expected me to be anyone but me. He encouraged me and helped me so much, and nothing even seemed so bad with him around. I don’t think I’d have survived those four years of high school without him.

Somewhere around junior year, it started becoming harder to hide my love and appreciation for him and his friendship. He knew that I had feelings for him, though he never made me feel bad about it. In a time where being an asshole was basically a rite of passage, he also never told another living soul.

I’d stupidly confessed my undying love for him the weekend before his dad dropped him off at college, and after letting me down in the most gentle way, I kind of expected him to never want to speak to me again. Instead, he assured me that I’d find loads of guys in college that would catch my eye, and he promised me that he’d always be my best friend.

In his defense, he did try. He called me several times a week at first, but I’d been embarrassed and awkward and too cowardly to even pick up. After about a month, he switched things up and started sending me emails. He’d write to me these long and heartfelt letters, angry in some, and hurt in others. I understood, too, because I wasn’t being the friend to him that he deserved. He eventually gave up on me and stopped trying altogether.

“Mr. Hardy, your eleven o’clock is here,” Ashlynn’s voice comes through my speakerphone, professional and polite. I could kick myself for letting my mind run away from me, I don’t have time for a trip down a maudlin memory lane.

“Give me just a second, Ashlynn, I’ll be right out,” I tell her, an apology heavy in my tone. I hadn’t had time to prepare myself for the headache that is, Mr. Fairfield, and he is likely pissing her off with every passing second that she was with him unattended. Grabbing his file, I hurry to the lobby to retrieve him.

Mr. Fairfield is a new client to me, though I should’ve researched him a little before agreeing to take him on as a favor to Judge Marlon. The judge is one of the most good-hearted people I’ve yet to come across. I would never have believed that she’d have such a soft spot for a man like Franklin Fairfield, but she must’ve seen something in him that I didn’t.

Today’s appointment is to go over a clause that he’s wanting to add in his hiring contract that states that any woman hired by the company is excluded from business opportunities, such as but not limited to: promotions and/or educational training to gain higher employment status, which he was offering at the time Ms. Manning – his receptionist – had signed up for it. It was a computer certification course that he was offering his lower-level employees. A course that he denied Ms. Manning, flat out, because of her gender.

He could’ve given her any number of excuses on why she wouldn’t be eligible – the most legit one being that she didn’t have a high school diploma or any form of general equivalency degree that