“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes dropping as he picks at the crust of his sandwich. “If I would’ve known—”
“You would’ve known if you’d stayed in touch with us.”
“I tried,” he insists. “After you went off to college, I reached out, but you never answered my texts or calls.”
I scoff. “So this is my fault?”
“No! Just—goddamn it.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “You’re twisting my words.” He exhales hard, then mutters quietly to himself, “My lawyer was right. I shouldn’t have come here.”
The word freezes me. “You got a lawyer?”
He hesitates, lips pursed like he’s choosing between the truth and something gentler. “Yes.”
“To take Maddie away from me?” My voice spikes across the café, loud enough to turn a few heads, but I don’t care.
“No, Mason. That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Stephen says quickly, leaning forward, eyes pleading. “I’m trying tohelpyou. Maddie shouldn’t be your full responsibility after your mom passes. You should be in college, building your own life, not—”
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” I snarl, shoving back from the table. The chair legs screech across the tile, making everyone in the café glance our way.
I yank my wallet from my pocket, throw a crumpled wad of cash onto the table, and push my untouched sandwich aside.
Stephen reaches out a hand, but I step back before he can touch me.
“I’ll see you in court, asshole.”
Without waiting for his response, I storm out into blinding daylight, the door clanging shut behind me.
Chapter Thirty
When I pull into Hunter’s driveway, I’m still seething. My grip on the steering wheel is so tight my palms ache, and my jaw feels wired shut. Stephen’s words keep looping in my head, fueling the ravenous fire burning in my chest.
I shove the truck door open and slam it harder than I mean to. The sound cracks through the quiet evening air. My hands won’t stay still, twitching at my sides. I flex them, shake them out, try to steady my breathing, but the storm inside me refuses to calm.
My knuckles rap against the door.
From inside, Hunter’s voice cuts through, loud and cheerful: “Door’s unlocked! Come in!”
I shove the door open and step inside. The cold air conditioning wraps around me.
“Took you long enough!” Hunter calls from the kitchen. “I was ready to eat this all by myself.”
The corner of my mouth twitches despite everything. I step into the kitchen, ready to snap back with some smart comment, but the words die in my throat.
He’s standing in the kitchen, floral-patterned apron hanging lopsided around his waist, spoon in hand as he stirs noodles in a sizzling pan. The air is thick with garlic and soy, warm and savory. His hair’s a little messy, and there’s a streak of brown sauce on his wrist where he must’ve splattered himself.
Just the sight of him knocks the breath out of me. The rage doesn’t disappear, but it dims—muted, smothered, like someone draped a blanket over the flames.
“You’re lucky I’m a culinary genius,” Hunter says, not looking up from the pan. “Vegan yaki udon. Loaded with tofu and lots of veggies, and don’t even think about picking them out. You’re going to eat them, whether you like it or not.”
Normally, I’d have a sarcastic comeback ready, but right now, all I can do is move toward him. I slip my arms around his waist, pulling his back against my chest before I even realize what I’m doing.
The spoon stills. “Uh. Hi?” His voice softens, the edge of playfulness fading. “Mason?”
I press my forehead between his shoulder blades and breathe him in—lavender soap, chopped garlic, the faint heat of cooking oil. The tension in my shoulders melts away.
“Are you okay?” he asks carefully. “Did… did it go bad with Stephen?”
My chest tightens at the sound of his name, but I shake my head, unwilling to let the anger crawl back in. “Can we not?” My voice is rougher than I want it to be. “Can we just eat?”
