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I pause, listening by the cracked door.
“Sit,” he tells her.
“No.”
“Are you fucking him?”
I draw in a breath, pushing open the door. Kade turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder.
Cases of liquor and two kegs of beer sit against the wall to my left, while several barrels of my dad’s homemade whiskey are stacked to my right.
I step in, meeting Dylan’s eyes as she stands with her back to the wine racks. “Thanks,” I tell her.
She just looks away and starts to walk past me, but I catch her. “Stay.”
“I’m no longer interested.”
“I need you here,” I tell her.
She looks away, but she stays.
Kade sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, realizing Dylan wanted to get him alone. For me.
I close the door, the party far away, and if there’s shouting, no one will hear. “Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask him.
“In Springfield. Back tomorrow.”
A.J.’s either with Jared and Tate or Jax and Juliet, or she went with them. They wouldn’t trust Kade to get her and himself to school on time.
I clear my throat. “One Saturday morning, when we were fourteen—”
He starts to leave. “I need to play host, Hunter.”
I step in front of him, stopping him. “I told you I wanted to take Dylan to the newFastmovie,” I go on. “I was going to ask her and then ask Dad to drive us. Do you remember that?”
“Jesus,” he scoffs.
He moves around me again, but I shove him in the chest and advance quickly into him as he stumbles back.
Fire ignites in his eyes, but he stands tall.
He doesn’t push back, though. Dylan is still.
“Do you remember that day?” I bite out.
He smirks. “I remember going with her.”
I nod, smiling, but it’s a bitter one.Yeah, me too.He found an earlier showing, told Dad I didn’t want to come, and they were out of the house before I even knew what happened.
I swallow, squaring my shoulders. “When we were fifteen in JV, and it was the last game of the year, and our grandparents were in the stands, and so was Dylan, and you called the play where I run a lead block, but you threw the ball to me instead.” I remember it like it was yesterday. “Imissed it. In front of our grandparents and Dylan and the whole stadium. You remember that?”
“I seem to remember you making a lot of mistakes in football.”
Yeah.He changed the play on me. I wasn’t supposed to receive the ball.
“And when we were sixteen,”
“Fuuuuck,” he gripes.
