He leaned against the counter and smirked. “When she invited me up last time, she said you weren’t, but after that kiss, it seems like things have changed. Even if you don’t spill, she’ll tell me.” Shrugging, he looked around the kitchen with his arms still folded.
“If you don’t know already, then Sabrina’s decided that too.” I took a sliver of petty satisfaction at his gloomy expression.
I took a clean, empty container and lid out and slammed it on the counter. The lid flew out of the plastic container and flopped down beside it, spinning and whirring until it dropped flat. Silence filled the space, tension thickening by the second. “There. Take as much as you want.”
“Did you have Thanksgiving with your friends?”
“Yeah.” Although this very interaction had been buzzing in the back of my head like a bee I couldn’t swat the whole time. Other than that, we’d had fun together. Our family of friends had enjoyed the day of quiet in our otherwise breakneck lives.
“What did you do all day?” Probably avoiding the kitchen and talking to friends online. At least that was what I’d done growing up. My mom had taken over the kitchen, and it was a no man’s land from sunrise until we ate. I’d sneak in to steal whatever scraps I could before she marched me out.
“Played video games and ate cereal.” He shrugged again. It felt less done to irk me and more like a teenage attribute to give everything a nonchalant or insignificant vibe, even if that wasn’t what he was feeling.
Against my better judgment and prying my locked jaw free, I asked the question that would roll around in my head all night if I didn’t. “What about your mom?” I barely managed to keep my lips over my bared teeth.
His statuesque mom who’d leaned against the car in her sunglasses with bright red lipstick and a smirk on her lips while my dad slid the last of his boxes into the trunk of his car.
Another shrug. “Somewhere. Probably with her new boyfriend. I don’t know.”
“She’s got a new boyfriend already.” Our dad had only been dead for six months. I mean at least she’d waited until he was actually in the ground. He hadn’t given my mom the same courtesy.
“It’s been six months. I guess she figured it was enough time.”
All the rage and burning feelings coursed through my veins at hearing about my dad or the woman he’d left my mom for. I hated that she was still running around having her fun while my mom wasn’t here.
“But it’s cool having the house to myself. Loads of freedom.” A sheepish look and a ducked head before he continued. “It’s part of the reason why I’ve been able to come visit you so much, so it’s not without its downsides.”
Our parallels were hard to ignore. GiGi had looked after me after my mom died, but she also had my grandfather to look after. She hadn’t wanted to uproot me afterward so I’d stayed in the house. She stayed there with me, but also spent a lot of time in the hospital or rehab facilities and then hospice, so I had a lot of time by myself too, but I never felt alone.
I’d used the stretches of hours and what felt like days on my own lifting weights, studying to make sure GiGi didn’t get any calls from school about my grades failing when she had enough on her plate, and hanging out with friends. Interspersed in there were my moments of deal-making infamy in my high school that created a legend I’d ridden to this day. Securing party locations, security at the door if needed, kegs and whatever anyone else needed while never having a whiff of trouble around me. The veneer of the straight-laced, smart kid had served me well in more ways than one.
“Throwing parties?”
He laughed and grabbed the container, scooped out a heap of mashed potatoes into it. Next, came over half the turkey I’d brought home, a football-sized amount of stuffing. He skimped on the green beans and Brussel sprouts. A few biscuits were tucked into the gap on the side of the mound, and he ladled out a fist-sized ball of gelatinous gravy.
“Do you think you have enough?”
A beet-red, splotchy pattern glowed on the back of his neck.
“Sorry, I can put some back.”
I sighed, and the balloon of anger pressing against my lungs slowly deflated. This was part of the reason I’d tried to stay away from Ryder. It was easier to hold onto the anger in short bursts, flashes that didn’t need to be sustained. After any length of time it would dissipate, which was why I needed to get him out of the house. “Forget I said anything. Take as much as you want. Sabrina’s not back until Sunday, so it’s not like I can eat it all.”
“Cool, thanks.” He shoveled even more food into the container so that he needed his full weight resting against the lid to close it. Gravy globs and mashed potatoes shot out between the lid and the bottom and dropped onto the counter. “Sorry.”
I grabbed some paper towels and mopped up the mess and chucked it into the trash can. “There you go. You got your food, and I talked to you. What I told Sabrina I’d do, I’ve done.”
“Did you guys finish the puzzle?” Instead of taking the blatant cue from me, he walked past me with the container in hand into the dining room.
What had I been saying about my anger lessening? I’d spoken too soon. “We finished it a while ago.”
His shoulders dropped a little. “Oh, I wanted to see it all finished.”
“I can show you the picture on the box. It’s the same thing just with tiny lines all over it.”
Ryder half turned and looked at me with his eyes barely visible above his shoulder. “Why do you hate me so much?” The words were barely a whisper. His eyes were filled with confusion and sadness. He looked at me like I’d betrayed him.
The balloon popped, snapping against my insides. I dragged my fingers through my hair and leaned against the wall. My fingers tapped against the chair rail. “I don’t hate you, Ryder. I’m just not the big brother you’re looking for. We don’t know each other. We didn’t grow up together. My dad left my family to start a new one with yours. After cheating on my mom, who was dying of cancer, with your mom. Can you understand why seeing you and being around you would bring up bad memories?”
My mom had tried to hide her tears. She’d cry behind closed doors, but she’d been dealing with so much and I’d been helping her along with the nurses’ aides and doctors—she couldn’t keep anything from me for long. The red, puffy eyes, the full boxes of tissues in the trash. I’d hated my dad for putting her through the revelations of his cheating during her last months of life. When she should’ve been focusing on getting better or at least having all the peace and joy she could soak up, he was ramming a divorce down her throat and ripping her heart out.
Even giving Ryder the food and talking with him for this long felt like I was forgiving a wrong I’d never planned on forgiving. Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll be there for your kid after you left Mom and me high and dry.
Ryder’s head dropped. “Yeah, I can see how I’d be a reminder of all the shitty stuff our dad did. And it seems like you’ve got nice friends and a great place to live.” His fingers tightened on the container. “I’ll go now.”
He rushed out of the dining room.
I followed behind him, both relieved and guilty. Every reason I’d resisted meeting with him was all rolled up into one, and these complicated feelings were only tangled up even worse by spending time with Ryder.