“Half-brother, like he loves to remind me.”
I drummed my fingers along the shiny brass. “He can be a real jerk sometimes.”
Ryder smiled and laughed. “Yeah, he can.”
The doors opened on our floor. “Tell me all about it.”
We pushed the trolley down the hall to the front door.
Hunter’s brother walked into the apartment like he was preparing for a tackle at any moment, hands shoved into his pockets, head down, gaze wary.
Seemed I wasn’t the only one Hunter could be an asshole to. It sucked it was his own brother. I don’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
Ryder helped me unpack everything and stack the boxes in my room. I ran the cart back downstairs and came into the apartment thankful Hunter hadn’t shown up in the lobby while I’d been down.
Now that I had Ryder here, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do.
Other than knowing he looked like he could use someone to talk to and also wanting to stick it to Hunter a little, I didn’t have any grand plans for entertaining. Hell, other than the product shoots, I hadn’t even had anyone else over. So I leaned on an old favorite. Food. Whenever I felt down, there was always something yummy to cheer me up. I could do the same for Ryder.
“Are you hungry?”
He shrugged. “I could eat.”
“Do you want to eat? I’m not a chef or anything, but I could make a grilled cheese? Or turkey and cheese sandwich?”
His eyes lit up. “Grilled turkey and cheese, please?”
So polite.
“No problem.”
“Thanks.” He rocked back on his heels.
“Come into the kitchen and let me know what cheese you like.”
He followed me into the kitchen.
I grabbed the food out of the fridge and a pan from the cabinets. My small talk was met with short, polite answers. He was a senior at Archer High, turned eighteen a few weeks ago, played piano, ran long distance, took the train into the city to see Hunter often.
It wasn’t until halfway into grilling the second side of the bread, slathered with butter, that he asked his first question.
“Are you Hunter’s girlfriend?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No, just his temporary roommate.” The cheese oozed from the sides of the buttered bread and bubbled and browned in the pan. I slid the sandwich onto a plate. “Are you a square or triangle kind of kid?”
“I’m not a kid.” His chest puffed up, eyes locked in on the sandwich.
“Squares it is.” I brought the knife down.
“Triangles.”
Hiding my smile, I cut his sandwich for him and made another for me.
He was wiping his plate with his finger by the time mine was finished.
“Did you want this one too?”
He looked to me before nodding eagerly.
When I slid the sandwich onto his plate, he glanced up at me. “What about you?”
“This pan has more than a two-sandwich maximum.”
I made two more before I got one.
He was hungry. But I wasn’t sure if it was eighteen-year-old-guy hungry or there-was-something-else-going-on-here hungry.
After wolfing down three sandwiches, he was more talkative and less skittish.
“Do you have homework to do? What time are you supposed to be home?”
He shrugged. “I finished my work in school, and I don’t have a curfew.”
“I figured after you showed up here at one in the morning. What was that about?”
Another shrug.
“Your mom wasn’t worried?”
“My mom’s got her own life.” He parroted it like it was a phrase he’d heard more than once.
Poor kid. I pulled some chips out of the cabinet when he didn’t seem the least bit ready to leave.
“Did you want to hang out here for a while?”
He sat up straight and his eyes lit up before he cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure, I could for a little while, if you wanted me to.”
Holding back my laugh, I smiled and nodded toward the living room. Okay, kid, thanks for doing me a favor.
I found a 500-piece puzzle in the closet off the living room along with some board games. “If you don’t have to be home, how about you help me with this?” The pieces rattled in the box.
“Sure.” He smiled, shot up, and wiped his hands on his jeans.
No eighteen-year-old guy was this excited about a puzzle. It had been almost a decade since I turned eighteen, but I couldn’t remember a time when any of the guys I’d gone to high school with would’ve thought a grilled turkey and cheese and a puzzle were a fun afternoon.
I peered over at Ryder, who was riveted to the puzzle, swaying to the music from my phone, mouthing the words. Why was he here? Did he have friends?
We scooted our chairs in and got to work finding all the edge and corner pieces first.
I still didn’t know why I’d invited him in. No, I did. He’d looked so sad at the front door. Teetering on the razor’s edge of hope that maybe he might get a chance to talk to Hunter. How many times had he tried before? That kind of persistence was rare for a kid his age. If he was here already, maybe Hunter would finally hear what he had to say. It had to be important. I knew all about being let down by people you cared about, and hoped maybe he could be spared some of that disappointment.
My stomach clenched. Or Hunter would prove just how shitty some people could be. There was no kicking Ryder out now. I crossed my fingers and prayed for the best.
“How are things at school?”
“They’re fine. I’m working on my college applications.”
“Wow, I was working on them up until the deadlines.” And I’d had to be reminded of the deadlines over and over by my parents and college counselor.
“I’m trying to get them in early.”
“Where do you want to go?”
He ducked his head, getting extra close to the pieces, running his fingers over them. “Fulton U.”
“I’ve heard that’s a great school. What made you want to go there?”
His neck flushed and red splotches appeared along his skin.
“Is it where a girl from your school is going? Best friend?”
He looked up, face fully ruddy, eyes a little sad. “It’s where Hunter went.”
Holy crap did this kid need a hug. All he wanted was a connection with his brother. Any connection.
Why would Hunter be such a jerk to him?
An hour or so later, I cracked my back and surveyed our progress. The frame of the puzzle was finished along with some bigger blocks of the zoomed-in image of colored pencils lined up in color gradient order.
The front door opened. My bright idea didn’t feel so bright anymore. We’d had the boundaries conversation only a few days ago, which had pretty much centered around Ryder, but Hunter had to see reason. The kid obviously needed help.
Thudding footsteps got closer. My stomach knotted. The water in our glasses rattled with each step like a T. Rex was about to rip the roof off the apartment and devour us whole.
Ryder straightened in his chair. His hand gripped a puzzle piece tightly.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one anticipating a blowup.
Maybe I could’ve found a better way. Maybe Hunter would be reasonable. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Hunter’s shadow passed by the doorway of the dining room. And then the roar.