"We talk later." I looked from her to Pops, which was a mistake. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen his expression so cold, his features pinched. Even his skin looked a little sallow, as if coming here had physically drained the life from him. He didn't say a word. Eugene Buckland might be as tough as an old boot, but even my stalwart grandfather had a breaking point. Being in Jacob Griffin's house to collect his wayward granddaughter might just be it. Behind them Kaylee, Jones, Lizzy, and Jacob gathered, clogging up the doorway to watch the spectacle. I met Jones's electrified gaze, hoping he would step forward and take my hand, show a little support. But he held back, Clayton in his arms. My gaze shifted back to my relatives. "I can't. The paparazzi are everywhere, and they'll keep hounding you if they see me with you." "You belong with your family." Pops' voice was low and tight, as if the words pinched his throat. "Andy girl, come home so we can discuss this." This being my epic failure of a career?
