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Raiden harrumphed. “If I were him, I’d tread carefully. He’s been crazy over Sasha forever but fucks it up every time. Rumor has it that she’s broken up with her boyfriend, but the ex doesn’t think she’s broken up with him. In the ex’s eyes, they’re still together.”
“Jeez. What a douchebag. One of those abusive types that can’t let go.”
“You called it. I don’t know what Ethan got up to the other night, but if he spent it with Sasha, he might have caused her more trouble than it’s worth for either of them.”
Yep. Exactly. That’s what would happen if I slept with Beth. Make more trouble than what it’s worth for either of us. This reality sucks, but I’m old enough to visualize the outcome of every scenario and sleeping together won’t end happily for either of us. In the moment, yes, it could be the resolution of everything that was left hanging years ago, but beyond that… it could never be more than winding back time and scratching a very itchy itch.
I close my eyes and rub at them, then breathe into my palms. All of this is hard to stomach and something I don’t need to deal with on top of everything else. Beth Anderson is a complication I didn’t see coming and the best thing would be to leave town until she’s gone.
“What’re your weekend plans?” Raiden asks, scraping the last bit of pie onto his fork and eating it clean. If he could lick the plate, he would.
“I might head out to—” Fuck it, I was about to say Boston to go visit Raiden, my brother who is sitting right next to me here and the perfect excuse to skip town. Except he no longer lives in Boston. There goes that idea.
“Where?”
“I… I just need to get out for a bit. Don’t know where. Take a road trip for some leaf-peeping or something.”
“Leaf-peeping? You want me to buy that?” Raiden leans back in his chair and gives me an incredulous, unflinching glare as if he can see right through me. “Jeez, Hunter. She’s eating at you that much? That you want to skip town like an idiot? For fuck’s sake, dude, between you and Ethan I don’t know who’s cocking up the most right now. I want to shake both of you.”
“Don’t label me and Ethan with the same tag. I don’t mess around with women like he does.”
“No, not anymore, but when you were in your twenties rumors went around aplenty about the flavor of the month that had nothing to do with ice cream.”
Fuck’s sake. I don’t need reminders about how I reacted to Beth’s marriage.
He empties his coffee cup and puts it back on the saucer with a bit more clang than needed.
“You might not mess around like Ethan, but you still chicken out before a relationship gets too serious.” Raiden’s gaze cuts right through me. “At least Ethan has his freaking career that takes him away all the time and when he’s at home he makes the most of it. But fuck it, Hunter, I just can’t. I just can’t stand by and watch you grow old and fucking sad alone.” He stands, pulls out his wallet, and tucks some bills underneath his empty plate. “You’re a fucking wreck, Hunter. Ever since you got home from the one and only summer camp you ever went to, you’ve been a wreck. And yes, Mom and Dad died, and you weren’t there and it almost killed us all, but it didn’t. We all thought Beth was the best thing that ever happened to you, that with her you lit up again after years. And then, yes, she was gone too, in a fucking wink. But she isn’t dead. And neither are you.” His chair scrapes over the floor as he steps away and scoots it back under the table. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself again. Lie low if you want, skip town this weekend, I don’t care, but don’t come cry on my shoulder ten years down the line when you realize you missed out on the one opportunity that was handed to you on a platter.” He drags in a harsh breath, his annoyance clear in his whole demeanor. “A fucking platter, Hunter!”
With that, he stomps off and out of the Pie Chart, every footfall dropping like a cannonball in the shop that has gone eerily quiet. Not even a hiss from the coffee machine to stop his words from circling the room like vultures homing in on a carcass. My carcass. Except I’m not dead. And every single one of those words swoops down on me to tear off their bites of truth.
I’m at a loss. All these eyes on me. The soft chatter resumes as other patrons pick up where they’d left off before Raiden gave his speech—and that without one single stutter.
Seems like public speaking might just become a thing for him.
Weird that a standing ovation doesn’t follow.
Maybe I finally heard exactly what Raiden had come to say to me and the Ashleigh Lake spectators are waiting for me to do something before any clapping starts.
22
BETH
I’m nursing a little headache today. It’s past midday and I have yet to go to Bill and May’s house to fetch my car. There’s no rush. I have food aplenty, and honestly, I can do with another day of just parking myself on the deck and reading. The sun is full out, making it gorgeous to sit outside, except there’s a nippy wind that ghosts over the deck every now and again.
Sunglasses on, wrapped in the cozy blanket Hunter brought me that first night, I settle on a deck chair with a mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice to help the Advil along.
Yep. Advil. Hunter somehow shoved a message under my door that he left the medication for me in the mailbox. The pills came with an added note that I should call him when I need a lift to Brodie Farm to collect my car.
Last night’s memories aren’t vague. There aren’t black-out moments. Nope. I was just that level of tipsy that decimated my filters. I was courage drunk at the level where you speak your mind’s truth. And regret every single thing the next day.
Yep. It was a multi-tiered cake of disasters. Being back at May’s dinner table as if I only took a one-week vacation somewhere else—fitting in as if they’ve kept a seat for me at the table all these years—isn’t good for my San Francisco morale.
The incident with the BB testing which turned out to be Beth’s Batch was telling in itself.
And then, the cherry on the cake: Hunter Logan. And his kisses. A delicious, hot as all fuck, suck-your-face-off-don’t-stop-kissing-me-ever disaster.
Just thinking of him makes me melt into my deckchair, desire swimming shallow in my veins where I can feel it on my skin and everywhere he touched me.
