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Those sentence were all palindromes—the same backward as forward. Jameson. Freaking. Hawthorne. I of all people should have seen it.
Maybe it was the fact that Jameson Hawthorne had just slipped a ring onto one of my fingers. Or maybe it was the knowledge, heavy in the air between us, that in our lifetimes, this probably wouldn’t be the only ring that Jameson gave me.
Based on everything I’d read, Toby’s mother had died less than a year after the fire on Hawthorne Island. And yet …
ALICE CONOCIO A HANAH WHAT
“It’s funny,” he says. “What is?” “The old man had a way of planning for everything.” Nash starts walking in the direction I indicated. “But I’m bettin’ he didn’t plan on you.”
“Only you four could turn gift-giving into a competition.” “I told you two,” Jameson said, looking directly at me, “Christmas at Hawthorne House is a contact sport.”
“Hardly sporting of you,” he continued. “Almost as bad as hiding your base in the vault.” Busted.
UY
“You’re perfect,” I said, my voice a little rough. “You know that?” “I think you might be confusing me with someone else,” Jameson quipped. I gave him a look. “Never.”
Christmas was rapidly approaching, and Jameson, Grayson, and I were the only ones left in the game. I had Jameson. Jameson had Grayson. Grayson had me.
SE PICA !!!
Rainbow tinsel was a good look for Grayson Hawthorne. Surprise was a good look for Jameson. Victory was an incredible look for me.
SLAY
“Keeping it in the family: the Hawthorne way.” “Very funny, Xander,” Grayson said.
pobre grayson
The situation was thus: Nash on the dance floor. Cowboy hat? Check. Leather pants? Check. Ass? Shaking.
