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“Honey,” Mom says while peeking inside the dining room, “your ride is here.” She glances at Lucas. “The Brents have offered to take you all to the airport.”
“What?” Lucas asks, his head popping up like a jack-in-the-box. He looks like he’s about to fly up from his chair and hide under the table. “My parents? Why?”
“Oh, it’s just your mom,” Mom continues. “She called yesterday while you all were at the parade and I figured, why not?”
So, Mom is playing peacemaker. I should have expected this. Mom has never been the type to gossip and enjoy other people’s pain, unlike the other socialites we come into contact with. However, unlike those people, Mom has never come from money. She’s from Ohio, born and raised. The first born of six kids; grew up on a farm and everything. Many thought she married Dad for the money, but they had met in college and fell in love. Mom has never had a cruel bone in her body. Now, Mrs. Brent, I can’t say the same for. Lucas’s mom has never been the nicest, which makes me wonder why she’s being all buddy-buddy with my mother. Our fathers have always gotten along, but that was business.
I really don’t like this, and I can see Lucas doesn’t like it either.
“You should get going,” Mom says cheerfully. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”
“Thank you for everything,” Rachel says.
I smile, watching Mom take Rachel’s hands into hers. “You come back any time, you hear? Our home is always open to you and the boys.”
Rachel nods and I watch Mom say goodbye to the boys before I am hauled into a tight hug and whisked away by the servants guiding us, and our luggage, down the stairs and into the Brents′ limo.
“Good morning!” Mrs. Brent practically shouts as the driver opens the door. She twiddles her fingers at us, her smile lopsided.
She’s holding a glass of champagne and is already half a bottle in. It’s not even ten in the morning. Something must be wrong in paradise. I see Hunter still, his eyes boring a hole into the champagne bottle, his hands fisting.
Shit.
Lucas grabs Hunter’s arm, pulling him back and saying, “Let me sit next to her.” Hunter doesn’t say anything, but I suspect he’s having issues. He hasn’t been sober for long and I can only imagine what’s going on in his head right now. I can’t really blame Mrs. Brent, since no one has told her.
Rachel slides next to Lucas and I follow Seth inside. The door slams shut and I find myself squeezed between Seth and Hunter. As the car pulls away, I’m acutely aware of my leg brushing against Seth’s. I wish there was something I could do to get it to stop, but Hunter is a big guy, and sitting across from Lucas’s long legs is making it difficult to put my limbs anywhere.
Just don’t think about it, I tell myself. Think of training when we get back, running in the gym, the mountain peaks in the distance, the stale gym air, Seth’s glistening arms as they pump up and down, the sweat wetting his hair, dripping down his throat—Shit, this isn’t helping at all!
“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Brent starts while holding up the half-empty bottle, “but I already started. Does anyone want some?”
We all shake our head in unison. When it comes to alcohol and drinking in front of Hunter, we’ve decided it’s best to be a united front. If we don’t drink, that means he has to remain strong and not drink, as well. At least, that’s how I see it. Although, Hunter’s fingers are digging into his pants now. I can’t help wondering if he’s about to lurch forward and snatch the bottle from Mrs. Brent’s grasp.
“No, thanks, Mom,” Lucas says with a tight smile. “We want to stay focused for our flight.”
Mrs. Brent shrugs. “But it’s a direct flight? How hard is that?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Seth laughs. It’s breathy and light and does something to my insides that makes me want to say something funny just to hear it again.
“And how is the writing going, Lucas?” Mrs. Brent slurs. “Were you able to get anything done yesterday, or were you hungover?” She giggles while plopping the bottle back into the bucket of ice next to her.
“No, we weren’t hungover,” Lucas says, an edge to his voice. “But we were out all day yesterday. Went to go see the parade.”
“Well, you won’t get published this way if you keep finding reasons not to write,” says Mrs. Brent in this all-knowing voice, as if she’s been supporting Lucas this entire time. What does she know? Lucas is writing. He’s allowed to take breaks with his friends.
“He is getting published,” Seth says before I can say anything.
Mrs. Brent’s eyes widen and she wrenches towards Lucas. “Really?”
Lucas grimaces, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I don’t know why he’s not saying anything. He should be gloating. He’s finally getting his big break after his parents cut him off.
“Yeah,” I blurt out, “he spoke to an agent a couple days ago.”
“When?” Mrs. Brent clutches Lucas’s arm, her tone insistent.
“After we had brunch,” Lucas murmurs.
Mrs. Brent gasps and she smiles, this one actually genuine. I’m shocked. “Really? Why didn’t you say anything?”
