Sitting next to Ryder, who looked so much like our dad and all the reminders that brought up, was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. And then there was Sabrina’s brush with death. What had I told myself? Getting close to people brought about the kinds of entanglements and expectations I couldn’t handle.
Then the dread was pushed aside by a much easier feeling to grab onto. Anger. Anger that she’d gone behind my back to set up this meeting with me and Ryder. Anger that everyone else couldn’t just respect my damn choices, and anger at myself that I hadn’t been strong enough to avoid this head-on.
It had been so easy to fall for her. It had felt like I’d been fighting it from the second she caught me in my sweats, and now here I was with her and Ryder in a packed restaurant where they traded pleasantries and all I wanted to do was be anywhere that wasn’t here.
“Hunter?”
My head shot up. My menu knocked into the water glass sitting to my right, spilling some out onto the tablecloth.
“Are you all right?”
35
Sabrina
No, he wasn’t all right at all. Hunter had been quiet the whole meal. Quiet was too loud a word. He’d been almost silent throughout the entire time other than when someone he knew walked over to say hi, but even those interactions were shorter and more abrupt than I’d seen him have in the past, with no introductions for Ryder—or me. It was like he was at a meal all alone. No, it was worse; it was like he was at a meal with two people he didn’t want to be around.
Normally on our date nights, I felt like I was out with a mayoral candidate or celebrity, but tonight he was as hospitable as a rabid raccoon. To say the evening hadn’t gone the way I’d hoped was an understatement—from the car crash to how shaken he’d been after to his reaction to Ryder, it wasn’t shaping up to be any type of bonding time.
When Ryder had mentioned his mom was headed out to Colorado to ski without him through the holidays, I had to do something. Sure, he was eighteen, but he’d be alone. I knew how that felt and hated that he wouldn’t have anyone.
Ryder and I had talked throughout dinner. He’d gotten his acceptance to Fulton U, which had gotten a whiff of Hunter’s attention, but not enough to spur him into conversation.
“When do you have to decide?” Our plates were sat in front of us. Seared scallops for me, a steak for Hunter, and Ryder had gone with the cheeseburger, which was exactly the type of fancy I’d have expected from this place, served with frites, not fries.
“A few weeks. I’m waiting for the financial aid letters to come in, but I’ll get some of the insurance money. A few of Dad’s accounts had my name on them as a beneficiary, so I’ll have access to that too.”
Hunter dropped his fork. It clattered against the plate and bounced off the base of his wineglass so hard I jumped.
“How nice he made sure you were looked after.”
My lips slammed shut. “If Ryder can use it for school, I think that’s pretty nice.” My attempt to turn his comment wasn’t helping from the way Ryder pushed his food around his plate.
I glared at Hunter and kicked his foot under the table.
He swung his gaze to mine with flat eyes.
“Hunter, can I talk to you for a second?” Without letting him say a word, I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him toward the bathrooms.
After checking over my shoulder, I whipped back around to him. “Could you at least pretend to be conversational?”
“Why would I do that?”
I clenched my hands at my sides and breathed through the fire that felt like it was burning in the top of my head. Resetting, I took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. “You do it all the time. You’ve done it with everyone who’s stopped by the table, but you can’t do it with your own brother.”
“I told you to let me handle it.” He wasn’t even looking at me. His gaze was trained on the empty space where his plate had been before it was cleared.
“And you haven’t contacted him since Thanksgiving. It’s been nearly a month and Christmas is only a few days away.”
“It’s my choice.” His head whipped in my direction, and there was fire in his eyes. I still wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than numb Hunter. “Why are you trying to force this? Why do you think you can just show up and make these big decisions in my life? You come in and you’re trying to disrupt everything and make me feel things I don’t want to feel.”
My stomach knotted, then plummeted off the edge of the cliff. The words hit me in a different way, it felt like there was a lot more to this than Ryder, but this was not the same Hunter who’d held onto me out on the slippery slush outside our apartment. Maybe I should’ve let him take me back, but Ryder had already arrived.
“All I’m trying to do is give a lonely kid a little connection and show him there are people who care about him.”
“Are we talking about Ryder or am I your little pet project?” There were barbs in his words. Hidden and unexpected.
They wedged in between my ribs and sliced at the soft tissue.
“I’m going to head back. It would be nice if you joined us.”
I left him in the hallway and walked back to our table. Scanning the restaurant, I hoped our voices hadn’t carried and we hadn’t been too loud. Halfway to the table, I spotted a familiar face—two, in fact, although I’d only ever seen one in person.
Pain radiated through my hip. I slammed into one of the tables along my path. My hand shot out, and I grabbed the wineglass before it toppled, and ducked my head, getting low, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself. The panic was nearly suffocating. I should’ve definitely let Hunter take me back to the apartment.
“Are you okay?” The concerned couple at the table looked up at me, the stranger who’d knocked into their table and almost ruined their meal.
My throat was like a collapsed stray. “I’m fine.” It came out in a wheezy whisper.
I chanced a glance and felt light-headed and nauseated all at once. My heart slammed into my ribs. My heart rate spiked like I’d just raced up the stairs from the lobby to our apartment. My skin felt prickly, like I’d become aware of every square inch of it. With my head down, I slid back into the chair I’d left. The folded napkin I’d slid off my lap was refolded beside my plate. I chugged the glass of wine in front of me and took Hunter’s as well. My hands shook so badly, the wine sloshed onto my hands, but both glasses were drained in seconds.
“Sabrina, are you good?” Ryder stared at me across the gathered water and wineglasses.
I nodded, trying to get my bearings because it felt like I was on the deck of a boat in the middle of a hurricane. My finger shot up to get a waiter’s attention, and I ordered another couple glasses of wine. I refused to look over my shoulder, but I felt the weight of their presence like someone was sitting on my chest.
Seth was here. He was in the same restaurant I was. After nearly five months, since the day I moved out, I was seeing him—and his wife.
I’d never hyperventilated in my life, but I felt close.
Hunter rejoined the table adding another layer of grim to the evening, and Ryder looked at both of us like we were insane. Maybe we were. An even more stilted and awkward conversation sputtered across our table.