That hope fades the longer we sit in this silence.
Kane turns toward me, and I arch a brow at him as I take another bite. The perfectly cooked, juicy chicken melts in my mouth, an embarrassing moan working its way up my throat. A small chuckle leaves Kane, making his whole body move as he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear, his hand lingering as his fingers glide through the strands.
“Did you eat today?” he asks, his smile soft, his body completely turned toward me and his knees wide enough to trap my entire chair between them. The warm light from the candles and the lamps outside illuminates the side of his face by the table. I shake my head as I finish my bite, and he lets out another chuckle. I’m sure that has him remembering all the times he’s had to remind me.
A chill races up my spine as the temperature drops further in the night. The moon now crests in the sky while the last rays of the sun peek over the horizon. He looks at me and signals a waiter, asking them to bring one of the heaters closer. Warmth suddenly presses at my back as he runs his palm up and down my arm, which breaks out in goosebumps for an entirely different reason.
I’m hesitant to break the moment between us, but I clear my throat and implore, “Are you okay?”
He looks away into the darkness on the other side of thehouse, his jaw tightening as his hands return to his lap. A sudden boyish expression moves across his face, his brown eyes sad as he shrugs at me.
“Just another family dinner,” he replies, a mask of indifference on his face.
The sad eyes of a lonely boy stare back at me. His parents are down at the opposite side of the table, laughing along to something someone next to them said. An act of PDA is on full display as his father holds his mother’s hand over their dishes. Kane looks at them and sighs before returning his gaze to me.
“You can talk to me. You don’t have to pretend this doesn’t bother you. I don’t know what your dad meant, but—” I begin, hoping to get him to open up to me.
“No,” he scoffs, cutting me off.
Hurt lashes across me at the dismissal.
“It doesn’t matter.” His jaw clenches and his fingers flex with tension. His silver rings gleam under the warm light as he twists one around his finger, the restlessness evident in his shaking foot.
I try to pry a little harder. I reach over and place my hand on his knee to still its movement, causing him to look up at me as I inquire softly, “It’s clearly not nothing if you’re upset.”
“I said nothing is wrong, Avery,” he says, effectively dismissing me again. I pull my hand back and place my napkin on the table, then stand and take off toward the house, the hurt of his denial to talk about it coursing through me.
Silly me. How could I forget that we aren’t even together, and he no longer owes me to talk about his problems? Not that he ever did before this.
But there were moments today when I saw Kane.My Kane. The sweet boy I fell in love with.
My Kane, who talked, joked, and laughed with me.
That ember of hope is thoroughly crushed as I make my way through the living room, searching for the powder room in the hallway. I hear footsteps behind me, but I ignore them, uninterested in small talk. I almost reach the bathroom when I’m pulled back by my wrist and turn to face Kane. Shock courses through me at the sight of him, out of breath and standing behind me.
“Avery, stop,” he begs. He lets my wrist go as he drags in a few deep breaths.
“What Kane? I need a minute. I’m not interested in what you had going on back there,” I bark, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m—” He drags his hands roughly through his hair and pulls at the strands.
“You’re what? Not going to talk about it? Yeah, I got that.” I turn, attempting to make my way to the bathroom, but Kane takes my hand and pulls me after him. I follow begrudgingly to the end of the hallway and up a back staircase that opens right to his childhood bedroom.
The room I practically lived in during our high school days. My body sighs in defeat as I let him haul me through the doorway and close the door behind us.
A wave of nostalgia hits me with the force of all the memories spent inside this room. The nights we spent studying together, playing rounds of PlayStation, and the night he took my virginity. I take in the scene around me. Everything is perfectly in place, just as it was the last time we were here. His bed is made with a dark blue bedspread, and the photos above the desk across the room mark our final year. Marcus and Kane playing football inone photo, the championship trophy they won for our school in the next, and his old boutonniere, dried up from our prom together. A small smile touches my face as I stare.
“Avery, I do want to talk. I just… What am I supposed to say?” Kane says wearily, defeat written across his face as he leans back against the door. His head hits the wood, and his body sags against it.
I take a few steps and sit on the bed across from him, my heels out in front of me as I stare at them and wait for him to continue. He stands up straight and looks at me until I make eye contact again.
“I’m angry with them. I’m still fucking angry. It’s been how many years, and nothing changes. It’s party after party, them putting on a show for everyone they know, yet when do I hear from them? When do they show an interest in my life? I’m not doing what they want, so I’m iced out, banished to the end of the table. They’ve known you for how many years, and the way he dismisses you like that pisses me off.”
He spits the words out, hands raking through his hair as he starts pacing back and forth in front of me. “And the constant talk of the ‘family business.’ It was never my dream. No matter what my father says. They want me to get married, did you know that? They want me to marry whoever my father thinks will benefit the family best while I learn to take over. But no, I go to a normal college, graduate, and take a job that fulfills me. I pick you, and it’s still not good enough.”
He all but yells the last part into the room. “The calls have gotten worse too. Calls to remind me what a disappointment I am, that I’m selfish and ungrateful, that everything I’ve been given and for what he claims. I’m wasting it away,” he finishes coming to sit beside me onthe bed, flinging himself back. He lies next to me, his arm over his eyes, trying to catch his breath.
Shock courses through me as his words repeat in my head. “I… I didn’t know all of this had been going on. For how long?” I ask softly as I watch the rise and fall of his chest.
