“I’m surprised that you even remember anything,” she mutters. And then, to get back at me, she decides to become condescending. “Was it a sober night for you? I doubt it.” She pushes her hood fully down and takes a deep breath as we hear movement from the kitchen.
“Good luck,” I tease sarcastically and I laugh, leaning back against the wall and crossing my arms over my chest. This should be good. Entertainment at its finest.
“Where the hell have you been?” Dave explodes as soon as he steps foot in the hall. He comes marching down toward us, but for once, his glare isn’t directed at me. No, not this time. It’s Eden’s turn. “Do you even know the time? It’s almost noon. Where have you been all night?” he interrogates, all of his worry releasing itself as anger. His eyes are nearly bulging out of his damn head. “The least you could have done was answer your phone. I’ve been worried sick, Eden.”
“I’m sorry, I—” Eden begins, but then her words seem to get stuck in her throat. What is she supposed to say? What explanation can she offer him? That I dragged her to a party and then abandoned her, only for Mr. Player of the Year to swoop in and rescue her, and that she’s been with some guy who’s pretty much still a stranger the entire night? As if she’s telling her dad that. He’d kill me first, and then Jake, and then her. Fear is flashing across her face as her eyes dart all over the hall, and I realize just how vulnerable she looks. She’s usually pretty confident, saying whatever’s on her mind, but right now, she looks small and terrified. It’s not as entertaining as I’d hoped.
“She was at Meghan’s place,” I cut in quickly. I’m not throwing her under the bus. Not after what I did to her last night. My eyes meet hers and I fix her with a firm look, one that tells her to keep quiet while I fix this for her, and then switch my attention to Dave. “I already told you that,” I lie.
Dave stares at me for a few seconds, perplexed. His eyebrows draw together. “No you didn’t.”
“I’m, like, pretty sure I told you last night when I got back, because she asked me to let you know,” I say, feigning innocence. I even pull it off in my eyes, which is hard for me, because I’m never innocent. “Remember?”
“No.”
“Man, I must have forgotten.” I shrug as though I’m deeply sorry, and then look back at Eden once more. “Sorry, Eden. My bad.”
Dave is silent as he glances between Eden and me, confused. He’s not buying this, but at least I tried. Eden looks stunned that I have. I do feel guilty about last night, so saving her from getting into trouble over it is seriously the least I could do. She just stares at me, her expression twisting with disbelief.
“Next time, don’t leave in the first place without telling me,” Dave finally mumbles. Amazing. He actually let me get away with my shitty act of innocence, though he still doesn’t sound too pleased about it all. “By the way,” he says just as he’s about to turn around to leave, “we’re going out for a late lunch. All of us. That means you too, Tyler. Dress nicely.” He gives me a stern look. I take it I’m not getting a choice in the matter.
“You get off the hook so easily,” I comment once Dave heads back into the kitchen. Sure, I helped Eden out with a bullshit cover story, but she did still stay out all night without letting her dad know. When I do that, he puts me through hell and back.
“Why did you do that?” Eden asks. She’s staring at me, much calmer now than a few minutes ago, and her eyes are bright with curiosity.
“Do what?”
“Lie for me,” she clarifies with a small shrug. “I don’t get it.”
“I owed you one,” I say, and then, just to be clear, I quickly add, “For taking you to that party last night. I didn’t think it through. Sorry.” I’m not one for apologies, so although I’m being blunt and straight to the point, it’s the best I can give her. I also mean it.
“Why did you even invite me along in the first place? Did you honestly think I’d want to be around that stuff?” she questions, and her annoyance has returned. It’s always such a subtle change in her tone of voice, but I notice it every time. It’s when her voice deepens a little more, bringing out its huskiness. I like it when she’s not annoyed, or angry, or in disbelief. I like it when she just . . . talks. But we don’t often do that.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. I know it was a bad decision on my part, and I am sorry for it, so I hope she knows I’m not just apologizing for the sake of it. I’m mad enough at myself already, because maybe she wouldn’t have ended up with Jake if I hadn’t taken her out with me. Which reminds me . . . “So you were with Jake, huh?”
“What does it matter to you if I was?” she shoots back, which confirms it: She has been with Jake the entire time. He’s got a lot to answer for the next time I see him. “You have your opinion of him, and I have mine. I don’t want to talk about it again, because it’s got nothing to do with you.”
She’s right; it doesn’t have anything to do with me, but if she just took a damn second to consider why it gets to me, then she’d realize that maybe I just don’t want to see her get hurt. And not just because she’s my stepsister who I’m expected to look out for, but because I genuinely don’t like the thought of Jake messing with her head. She seems too switched on, too wise to fall for his bullshit. I’d hate to see that. She wouldn’t deserve it.
“I need to take a shower,” I say, changing the subject. There’s no way I’m admitting it out loud that I actually care. Because Tyler Bruce doesn’t. “We’ll talk about this later. After this bullshit meal that we’ve gotta sit through.”
“We’ll talk about it later?” Eden echoes. It sounds like she doesn’t want to, but if it’s the last thing I do, I’m not letting Jake play her.
“Yeah.” I head for the stairs so that I can make a start on getting ready for this first broken family outing. It’s not something I’m particularly looking forward to, but I don’t have the energy to put up a fight. As I make my way upstairs, I do glance back at Eden one last time. She’s staring after me, watching me leave. “And remember what your dad said,” I say. “Wear something nice.”
I don’t know what it is about this girl, but I’m so damn changeable around her. I’ve never slipped up as much as I have around anyone as much as I have with her. I messed up again last night too. When we were fighting . . . She wasn’t fighting with Tyler Bruce. She was fighting with me. My weaknesses. My honesty. My fear. And even now, in this split second, I’m just being myself.
And the way I can tell?
I’m smiling at her.
25
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
I’m not hungry enough to eat. I’m too distracted, so I just numbly move forkfuls of food around on my tray, my eyes set on a random spot on the table and my mind in a complete trance. It’s lunch and the cafeteria is wild. It always is. The buzz of chattering, the random shrieks, the echoing laughter. I hate it. I wish everyone would just sit down and shut up.
“Hey,” I hear Jake say sharply, right as he throws an eraser across the table at me. I blink and force myself to tune back into my surroundings again, slowly lifting my head to look at Jake. He grins across the table at me, the fluorescent lighting shining against his braces. “Are you in?”
“On what?” I ask. I glance sideways at Dean for backup, but he just rolls his eyes at me and continues chewing a mouthful of food. I think they’re used to me zoning out a lot, though it’s something I wish I could stop.
“We’re gonna try out for the varsity team in high school. All three of us. Deal?” Jake says, and then holds out his fist and bumps it with Dean’s. He holds his fist out to me too, and when I only stare blankly back at him, his smile fades and he sighs. “Football, you idiot. Are you in or are you not? Everyone knows that if you want to be cool in high school, you gotta be on that varsity team.”
“You do know that high school is still two years away, right?” I ask him, furrowing my eyebrows. “And I don’t think it actually works like that in real life.”
“Sure it does
!” Jake says, retracting his fist. Before he can say anything more, our conversation is cut short when Rachael Lawson appears out of nowhere and slides onto the bench alongside him.
“What are you guys talking about?” she asks, resting her elbows on the table. She glances around at the three of us from behind the smudged lenses of her glasses. Sometimes, she and her friend Meghan join us for lunch.
“Rach, why are you so obsessed with me?” Jake teases, smirking at her as he nods down at her arm brushing against his. Jake is such a joker. I wish I was like him sometimes.
“With those braces? Keep dreaming,” Rachael fires back, then dramatically shifts a few inches away from him. “Mr. Hayes has asked Meghan and me to show the new girl around, so be nice. Here they come.”
“There’s a new girl?” Dean says with curiosity, but there’s no time to get an answer.
Meghan Nguyen walks over, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders, and behind her, a girl I’ve never seen around before is following. I didn’t know we were getting a new girl, either. Meghan sits down on our side of the table next to Dean, and the new girl joins Rachael opposite us.
“Are you gonna introduce yourself?” Jake says, leaning forward to look at her over Rachael.
The new girl gives him a small, confident smile as she tucks her mousy blond hair behind her ears. Her eyes are seriously bright blue, like ice, and she studies us all one by one, her gaze shifting around the table. “I’m Tiffani. Just moved here. And you guys are?”
“Someone ain’t shy,” Jake snickers under his breath, covering his mouth with his hand, but we all hear him anyway. Then, he flashes Tiffani a smirk. “You can call me Jake, and I hate to break it to you, but Rachael and Meghan are both already in loooove with me, so hands off.”
“Shut up, you freak,” Meghan hisses across the table while Rachael digs her elbow into Jake’s ribs. The three of them do crack into laughter, though. Jake teases them all the time, and it’s only ever playful.
“Aren’t you nervous?” Dean asks quietly amid the bickering. He cocks his head to one side as he looks at Tiffani suspiciously. No new girl is ever that comfortable so quickly. Usually, they don’t even speak until at least their second week. “I’m Dean, by the way.”
“Why would I be?” Tiffani asks, blinking at him, her over-glossed lips still curved into what seems to be an innocent, gentle smile, but really isn’t. I’ve learned to read expressions more carefully than other people. Her bright blue eyes flicker over to meet mine, and she pouts at me. “What’s up with you, quiet boy? Do you have a name?”
“Tyler,” I mumble, dropping my eyes back down to my tray of untouched food. I hate strangers. The more people who know me, the more people who have the potential to figure out that there’s something wrong.
“Can I just call you Ty?”
I look up at her, my expression blank. “No.”
“Lame,” she says, rolling her eyes and turning her attention away from me as though I’m not worth it. She pulls out her class schedule and looks over it, biting down on her lower lip. “Does anyone have science with Miss Fitzgerald next?”
“Tyler does, I think,” Meghan says, and when I glare over at her, she only gives me a small shrug.
“The quiet one,” Tiffani murmurs. Her eyes lock back on mine again exactly as the bell rings out, and the noise in the cafeteria amplifies even more as everyone gets to their feet, including us. “You can walk me to class, Ty,” she says, throwing one strap of her bag over her shoulder and flicking her hair. As I walk around the table, she hooks her arm around mine. “Let’s go.” Over her shoulder, she calls, “Catch you guys around!”
I heave a sigh, but I don’t bother fighting against her. She’s new, probably trying too hard to make an impression, and is just latching onto the first group of people she can find. I do, however, mutter, “It’s Tyler.”
26
PRESENT DAY
“This is nice, having us all together,” Mom muses. She glances around the table at us all, a warm smile lighting up her face. It’s the first time we’ve been together as a family of six, rather than a family of five. “We should do this every Sunday.”
“Agreed,” Dave says. They exchange a glance and I swear he reaches for her hand under the table.
“Disagreed,” I add, just for the sake of making things awkward. My smile is beyond sarcastic and I tilt my head down, fold my arms, and stare at my cutlery. I don’t want to be here, especially with Mom and Dave both emphasizing this whole “family” thing. We’re not a family. Dave’s not my dad. Eden’s a stranger.
“How long do we have to sit here for?” I ask soon after we’ve ordered our food. I’m not participating in the casual conversation that Mom and Dave have got going on, but neither are my brothers or Eden. She keeps quiet next to me, and every time I surreptitiously steal a glance at her, she’s twiddling her thumbs in her lap. I stare across the table at Mom and Dave as I loosen my tie. It’s hot in here. “I’ve got better things to do,” I state, even though I don’t.
Dave fixes me with a threatening look, almost as though he’s daring me to ruin this momentous occasion, and his hand tightens around the glass of his drink.
“Stop being so moody,” Mom says, almost jokingly to begin with, but then her expression quickly grows taut and she sits up a little, meeting my eyes. She looks concerned, the exact same way she did earlier this morning. “Did you take your meds today?”
“Mom,” I say with a strain to my voice. Did she seriously just ask me that? Right now? In front of everyone? I steal a quick glance at Eden to see if she’s heard, and of course she has. Now what is she going to think of me? “I’m gonna go get some air,” I mumble, exhaling.
I push myself up from the table and turn away, my pace quickening as I weave my way between tables, my eyes set on the door. It’s Sunday afternoon, so of course the place is packed. I tear off my tie as I push my way through a group of people, desperate to get outside. And as soon as I do, I inhale the longest breath of air I possibly can, holding it in my lungs. Then, I release it and lean back against the wall. It’s clear blue skies today and the sun beats down on me as I glance down at my tie in my hand. It reminds me of Dad.
The older I get, the more I see him in my reflection every time I look in the mirror. I’m starting to look more and more like he did when he was in his twenties and I hate it. Every time I see myself in a shirt and tie, it just brings back memories of when Dad would get home from work, pissed off about something, only to then take out his anger on me. Dad was rarely ever happy when he was wearing a shirt and tie.
There’s no way I’m sticking around here. I want to go home and tear off this damn shirt and grab a beer, then relax. Mom was right. It has been a bad week, and that’s why I’m pleased when I shove my hand into my pocket and realize I have Mom’s car keys. She hates reverse parking, and so I parked up for her when we got here. Nice. I have a getaway vehicle.
Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I head across the parking lot toward the Range Rover. Dave’s Lexus is parked next to it, because as we discovered when leaving the house, as a family of six we no longer all fit in one car. I don’t feel so guilty about heading off in Mom’s now, because at least they still all have a ride home.
I climb into the driver’s seat and sling my tie back over my shoulder. I don’t start up the engine, though, because I end up staring through the windshield at the shrubs lining the parking lot.
No, I didn’t take my meds today. Did I take them yesterday? I don’t even know, but what does it matter? I’ve been on them for years and I still feel like hell, so it’s not like they work. I’m constantly feeling like this, always so low and so bummed out, so I’m over it by now.
There’s a small knock at the passenger window. I snap out of my thoughts and look over. It’s Eden, standing on the other side of the door, staring back at me through the glass. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves and she plays with the ends. Maybe she’s nervous, I don’t
know. But I like that she’s come out here. For as much as I figure she hates me, she sure can’t stay away. Maybe she actually gives a shit, unlike most of the people in my life. That’s the only reason I roll down the window.
“What?”
She anxiously steps back, retreating away slightly and putting more distance between us. Probably because I’m in a crap mood, which means I can be unpredictable. “Are you coming back inside?” she asks.
“Screw that bullshit,” I tell her. “I’m not heading back in there.” I turn back to face the shrubs, clenching my jaw. As if I’m going back inside. Not with Mom and Dave trying to turn us into some sort of happy family, and especially not after Mom mentioned my meds. It’s embarrassing, and it only reminds me that I’ve got something wrong with me that pills are supposed to fix.
“You’re kind of melodramatic, don’t you think?” Eden says, and I can hear it in her voice that she’s holding back a sigh. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. She only asked you a question.”
“Are you stupid? For real—are you?” I flash my eyes back over to her. Only a question? It’s a big fucking deal to me. “You don’t understand SHIT, goddamn Eden Munro.” Sometimes I wish people knew the truth, so that maybe they would understand. But at the same exact time, the truth is the very last thing I would ever want people to know. People would never look at me the same.
“There you go again, overreacting about every little thing. I’m trying to understand what the hell is wrong with you, but you treat me like shit every time I talk to you, so forget it,” Eden mutters, rolling her eyes. “Now I’m going back inside, because I’m not a self-centered douchebag who throws tantrums when things don’t go my way.” Without waiting for my reply, she turns around and struts off across the parking lot, her hair swinging. I watch her in the side mirror, and I realize I don’t want her to leave.
God, why does she do this? Why do I like it when she tells me the truth so brutally? Heaving a sigh, I lean across the passenger seat and out of the open window, I softly call out, “Eden!” and pray that she hears me. And she does, because she looks back at me over her shoulder. “Come here,” I gently order. “Come get in the car and I’ll be honest with you, and then we’ll go back inside.”