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“Actually, can you do me a favor?” I ask. “After you get Mason out of here and set up a meeting to finish this project?”

“Sure thing,” he says. “Hit me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

SABRINA

On the flight home, the attendant asks me if I’m alright. I say yes, even though my mouth shakes when I smile. She gives me the hot coffee, and I sip it as I think about getting coffee on the road with Coen. I wonder what he’s doing right now. He doesn’t have my number, and I never gave him mine. We had no reason for it. We sat alongside each other the entire time, and not once did it come up.

Now, I kind of wish he had it.

I might have left, but I hate the silence.

I text my Mom, and, to her credit, she’s happy I’m coming, even though it’s at the last minute. She says she’s sending Hugh to get me at the airport. I don’t know him well, and I wish she was coming, but she’s still at work. She and Hugh don’t have any kids. They’re both happy with just doing their jobs and relaxing on the weekends. At least, that’s what Mom says, but I think she was always worried we’d be hurt if she had a second family.

I press my forehead against the plane window.

God, it hurts to go, hurts to leave. It would hurt to stay.

We touchdown on time, and I drag myself off the stuffy plane. I tell everyone my Mom lives in NYC, but that’s not really right. They’re in New York State in an absolutely sickeningly enormous house with a view of the mountains from their perfectly manicured lawn. When I was younger, and Serena and I would stay for a few months a year, I’d wonder if I made the wrong choice not living in luxury with her.

But I just couldn’t leave Dad.

Maybe I should have sent Serena. I can handle it, but she deserves to shine.

The airport is fairly empty, and I spot Hugh standing by the baggage claim. I have nothing, I didn’t even stop to get my things from Coen’s house. I changed in the airport bathroom after grabbing a tank, sweats, and slides from the gift shop. I didn’t want to feel like the old Sabrina, or the Sabrina who rode by Coen’s side. I need to feel like a new Sabrina for a few days, so I chose something I would never wear: bright pink with words across the ass. I look like I’m on spring break.

“Hey, Brina,” Hugh calls, waving.

He’s such a nice man. Calm, never raising his voice. I hug him the way we always have, like two people who never got a chance to get very close but still love each other. He’s a tall man with a lean, plain face, short hair, and thick glasses. He wears his dockers, blue button up, and loafers wherever he goes. Everything whispers very quiet wealth.

It’s a shock after being in Wyoming.

“Thanks for getting me,” I say, voice shaking.

He steps back, frowning. “You okay? It’s a bit weird to just show up.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just needed a minute.”

He takes my purse but doesn’t move to the door. “What’s going on?”

I sniffle, looking away. “Guy problems.”

“Want me to beat him up?”

I smile at the thought of Hugh trying to beat up anybody. He’s not like Dad, who has scars on his knuckles from how many fights he’s been in.

“I’ll do it. I might not look like I can tousle,” he says, “but I used to work on the floor in the stock market.”

“I believe you, but he didn’t really do anything,” I say. “Can we go? I’m starving.”

He nods, but I can tell the minute we get in the car, we’re talking. He leads the way to a sleek sedan and helps me in. Deep down, as I look over and notice the cold coke zero and granola bar sitting in the console on my side, I feel that little sad stab of resentment against Dad. It’s not fair. He did his best with us, we were loved, we had everything we needed. But Hugh is thoughtful to a whole different level, and that makes me wonder who would have been a better father to us, if my choice robbed Serena. It’s the reason I don’t resent Mom. If I met someone who treated me that well, I’d move for him too.

That hits me like a punch to the gut.

I watch Hugh circle the car.

I met someone who did. Now, I’m running scared.