Her mom’s face looked stuck between angry and shocked. I felt Addi’s hand on my thigh steal all the attention, when her dad asked me all the basic questions. “How old are you, Hunter? What do you do?”
“Younger than her last boyfriend. But don't worry it's not because of daddy issues; it's mommy issues. And, I own my own business.”
Liz cut in, trying to smooth things over, but that was only going to stoke Addi’s resentment. I saw how much more they were invested in their “perfect” daughter. It made me resent them too. I didn’t give a fuck if they hated me.
Addi’s mom felt brave. “I don't know why you always need to act out, Addileigh. Carrying on and on about how much we don't love you. We can't choose to not love you.”
Addi sucked in a breath of air and held it, and I clamped my eyes shut tightly, feeling the exact moment this was going to go up in flames. Her words were going to bounce off my armor aiming for Addi. My hand covered her hand still on my thigh trying to glue her in place.
“I'm sorry you can't choose to not love me, Mom.” She didn't try to work through it, flying up from her seat and determined to leave, heading for the door. I sat back, relaxed, and waited for the reality to set in. If it didn't, I was there to send it home.
Addi was spoiled.
Addi was corrupt.
Addi was a lot of things, but undeserving of being loved wasn't one of them.
The silence was deafening, making this the second most awakened table I was left at this year.
“She may be an actress, but she's not ‘acting' like you don't love her for no reason. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and say you didn't realize it until now.” I turned to Liz, someone I considered a friend. “No offense, Liz. She always felt compared to you. So much so that she has changed everything about her appearance to look nothing like any of you. I grew up with shitty parents so wrapped up in their own shit I got the short end. It's too late for me now, but Addi is still young. Fix it… before it's too late.”
Getting up from the table, I left the same way we came in: through the front door. As soon as I stepped outside, I knew the fighting wasn't over, when I saw Addi standing by my car… and some guy I didn't know.
So this was Mister? The salt-n-peppered, middle-aged man, who could easily be someone’s dad.
Nothing was making sense; how did he know she was here without a phone? Why? Was she actually ending it?
Knowing he was tracking her location already made me want to act like my least favorite Sinner, Ollie, who preferred his fists over words. I walked over to her and slung my arm around her neck, pulling her body into mine, as his first warning sign to tread lightly.
“Hunter, we're just talking. It's okay.”
I looked for any signals of distress, but there weren’t any. I had gotten so wrapped in protecting her that I forgot she didn't need to me to.
Addi wanted me; she didn't need me as a crutch.
I gave them some space, sitting on the trunk of my car and blazing up a fresh joint I packed in case shit got heavy or weird. It came in handy.
A faint buzz went off in my back pocket as I reached around to my pocket, trading the space to tuck my lighter and turn my phone screen over to see it lit up. It was a photo and text from Hector, one I had been expecting and avoiding all at once. I slid my finger to open the screen to his photo of a severed finger with a ring I knew but couldn’t place.
Hector: Take this as a gift and a warning, I don’t employ rats. The ring is yours. I look forward to doing more business.
Once I placed the ring with his helpful text I understood just how much further I was slipping into his world. With my attention struggling to intake Hector and Addi at once, I refocused myself shoving my phone back into my pocket. I listened to their conversation carefully, making sure he couldn't twist any of it. She took the sympathetic route first.
“I can't do this anymore. I'm in love, and that's not fair to you.”
He countered with: “We already talked about this. One email, and you're thrown out of Amherst. You'll be blacklisted for this.”
My fist clenched, but I forced myself to stay in place, letting her fight her own battles. I had to remind myself she wasn't Layla and didn't need saving... not yet, at least.
Their exchange went back and forth, until I heard a gasp. Plucking the joint from my lips, I stood up from sitting on my car. His hand was clasped onto her forearm, and she was now threatening to tell his wife.
Bad move, Addi.
Her master list was taking on a life of its own and not taking no for an answer.
I made sure to find her eyes first before I made any moves. Her light gray eyes looked dark and hopeless. “Do you want my help yet?”
She actually rolled her eyes and slanted them down like it was obvious now she wanted saving. I smirked, knowing the two-way street we created felt like the most fair thing to ever occur in my life. I took some big steps towards the old man and grabbed the back of his neck with so much force his hands went up into defensive mode.
“Look, you aren't the only one in love with her.” I didn't expect him to have an accent, but he did—a slight accent, like he was Australian. I got the attraction now.
“Is that why you've been tracking her location? Sounds romantic.”
He laughed like it was all the stupidest thing he had heard. “Obviously you haven't been in love. It makes you do the craziest things to keep it.”
He was justifying everything with love. “That's not love, old man. That's imprisonment.” He dropped Addi’s hand, and I tried to tell her with my eyes to call the police, hoping she could read my mind without spooking him.
She didn't have a phone, because it was my bright idea to smash it.
“That's exactly what love is: imprisonment. You're caged by how much you feel for someone, how much you'd put on the line—the lines you're willing to blur and the distorted perspective—all because one person makes you feel differently.”
Everything about his words hit me in this catastrophic way I wasn't expecting. I always thought home was the detention center and handcuffs, but I was trading one prison cell for another called love.
Home.
I took another inhale of my joint perched between my lips, while I wondered how long I was going to listen to this delusional old man. I leaned against my car again, trying to figure out how this went from throwing fists to contemplating the vastness of prisons.
“Look, old man, you've got two choices here: One, cut your losses and walk away. Two, I call the cops, and we press charges for stalking and blackmail… as a professor.”
Third, keep coming for her, and you meet my fist.
Addi clung onto my hoodie, like it was her only chance at safety. Everything about this threatened him, turning his eyes so dark I wondered what color they were before.
“Do you think I want to be chasing around some bitch who sucks a dick better than my wife?”
The fire stoked by all my regrets, resentment, and priors calling me criminal just became a bonfire. Every part of me was overheating and spiraling out of control. I took my phone out and handed it to Addi, along with my now stub of a joint.
“What the fuck did you say?”
He was laughing maniacally now, like none of this could be real life. It was too cliché for any of us to be in this situation.