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Al makes a big show of rolling her eyes. “That’s your own damn fault.” She focuses on her burger while the three of us trade a look.
We know it’s time.
We can’t drag this out any longer.
Besides, things will be better when we tell her …
Right?
Three years ago, when Ryder told us what was going on, part of me believed that to be true. But as the years have emptily streamed by, I’m not so sure anymore.
About anything.
THIRTY-THREE
ALLURA
The guys are being quiet—avoiding. I’ll wait it out, because I’m getting answers tonight. While I wait, I dive into my greasy burger and nearly have a foodgasm.
“Oh my God,” I groan as the greasy goodness fills my tastebuds. I look at Ryder, who’s watching me intensely. “When did you learn how to cook?”
“He took a cooking class junior year,” Reece replies as he picks up a few fries off his plate and pops them into his mouth. “He got really into it to the point where he was thinking about trying out for a cooking show.” He smirks.
Ryder sighs. “That’s not true. At least, about the cooking show, but yes, I did take a cooking class junior year because I thought it’d be useful in the future after we were all sealed.” He opens his napkin and places it on his lap.
I damn near drop my burger at his words. “Wait … you knew about the fate ceremony our junior year?”
Blaise shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and Reece’s eyes widen slightly. However, Ryder calmly collects his burger and takes a bite.
“Since sophomore year,” he clarifies as he sets the burger down.
“Well, I guess we’re doing this now, then,” Reece mutters as he sinks back into his chair.
Ryder aims a pressing look at him. “It does no good to drag it out, so we might as well rip off the Band-Aid.”
I’m still stuck on what he said earlier. “You’ve known about the fate ceremony for three years.” I pause. “Wait—is that why you guys stopped being friends with me? Because you were trying to stop it from happening?”
“No,” the three of them say in unison.
“Not even close,” Reece stresses with intensity burning in his baby blues. He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Baby, we wanted this to happen.”
I jerk away from him. “Well, I didn’t.” I start to rise, ready to leave this room and lock myself in my room, but Blaise captures my hand.
“Please hear us out,” he begs, staring up at me. He skims his thumb along my knuckles, softening my rage a drop. “It’s not what you think.”
While I want to bail, I know I need to remain strong and hear the truth—I deserve that much. So, sucking in a breath, I lower my ass back into the chair.
A slow exhale eases from Blaise’s lips. “Thank you.”
I say nothing to him and direct my attention to Ryder. “Go ahead. Tell me the truth. I’ll stay until the end. But all bets are off after that.”
Ryder combs his fingers through his hair as he reclines back in the chair. “A handful of days before that day in the hallway when you slapped me, my father requested a meeting with me,” Ryder begins with his lean arms folded across his chest. “I thought he was going to give me another job, other than keeping an eye on the drug trade in his clubs. I was nervous because I didn’t want any more responsibilities.” He rubs his lips together as he pauses. “You know how I felt about that.”
“I thought I did,” I answer, though I think he said the statement rhetorically. “But then you seemed to fall perfectly into your role as the perfect mobster’s son.”
His gaze collides with mine. “Maybe I did, even with everything that was going on, because it takes a lot of coldness to do everything that I did. And I did it so perfectly. Even when Reece and Blaise struggled with it, I remained calm.”
“I think we were the weaker ones,” Reece states. “If it weren’t for you, brother, we’d have crumbled and ruined everything.”
