Chapter 30

Hunter's stepmom was in the kitchen when we dragged ourselves downstairs. We heard her before we saw her, and when we rounded the corner, my heart nearly stopped. Scott leaned against the kitchen island, holding a small glass bowl while his mom prepped a salad. He glanced up in disinterest when we entered, but when his eyes landed on me, he dropped the bowl onto the counter and it shattered. Glass sprinkled across the counter and floor, but his eyes were too unfocused to flinch.

"What in the world!" his mom said, one hand going to her forehead. She paced back and forth several times, but instead of collecting materials to pick up the mess, she accomplished nothing at all. She paused, tugging on her hair. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears as she twisted around to face Scott. "That was the lemon vinaigrette!"

No one made any move to clean the glass, and I felt tempted to initiate the process but thought better of it, hoping Scott sliced his foot open instead. Hunter let out a long sigh, unbearably bored of the whole situation.

"It's okay, Mom. I'm sure we have other dressings in the fridge," Scott said. My eyes flew to his face in shock, surprised by the comfort in his voice.

She sniffled. "It's not the same."

Scott started to wipe up the vinaigrette but paused to glare at Hunter. "Mind making yourself useful and getting me some fucking shoes?"

Hunter tapped two fingers against his chin. "Hmm, tempting." He strolled over to the fridge instead, rifled through it, and emerged with two salad dressings. "Ranch or balsamic?"

Scott's mom's short blond hair was disarrayed, and she wiped one finger under her eyes to ensure there was no smearing mascara. "I guess balsamic."

"Great," Hunter said flatly. He put the ranch back in the fridge, then set the balsamic on the counter and left the kitchen altogether.

I stood there in uncertainty, unsure if I should follow. No one had spoken a word to me yet, and I didn't feel like starting a conversation with Satan's mother during a mental breakdown over salad dressing. Hunter returned a moment later, carrying a pair of pink slippers. He tossed them at Scott's mom without looking at her, his face masked in the same scowl he wore at school.

"What about me?" Scott demanded.

Hunter shrugged. "Eat shit."

And then he tugged me out of the kitchen with him.

* * *

Hunterand I stood in the corner of the dining room, our close proximity helping him breathe easier.

"Should we help them?" I whispered, huddling into him.

Hunter's jaw was clenched tight, but he cracked the smallest smile. "I certainly have no desire."

I scrunched my nose. "I can't believe we're having store-bought salad dressing."

He huffed a breath of laughter and wrapped one arm around my shoulder, smirking down at me. "Quite honestly, the mere idea is fucking revolting."

Scott strode into the dining room, and I stiffened, but Hunter kept his arm wrapped tight around me. Scott froze, staring at us for one moment before he caught himself. He set the bowl of salad in the middle of the table, and when he straightened, his fists were clenched at his sides. He wore shoes, and the thought of him retrieving them himself made me bite back a smile.

"So you two are just going to stand in here making out while my mom tries not to cut herself on pieces of glass everywhere?" His eyes blazed with anger.

I felt a little bad, but Hunter's slow smile was sinister. "So what if we are?"

Scott turned his furious gaze to me. "What a catch, Alice. Can't even be bothered to help out his own stepmother." He spun around and stalked out of the room, his shoulders tight.

"What happened in there anyway?" Hunter said, low and taunting. "You can hang on to footballs when people are trying to tackle you, but you can't manage a bowl when you're standing still?"

Scott didn't say anything, but the back of his neck burned bright red before he disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment later, Scott's mom glided into the dining room, and Hunter's arm tightened. "You must be Alice! It's such a pleasure to meet you!" she said, as though nothing at all had happened in the kitchen.

"Um, it's nice to meet you too."

She beamed at Hunter. "Wow, she's so pretty."

Scott stood behind her and folded his arms, looking away with gritted teeth.

Hunter's jaw ticked. "Why are you telling me that? She's standing right here."

His stepmom rolled her eyes before winking at me. "Oh, don't be so grumpy. Why don't we sit?" She spun around to look at Scott. "Is that everything, love?" She assessed the table while Scott's face turned the fiercest shade of red I'd ever seen.

I stared at the both of them. Something wasn't computing.

"Yeah," Scott mumbled, avoiding my eye.

Scott's mom took a seat at the foot of the table, her hands clasped together as she studied the spread. She stood to arrange a few things and sat back down, evaluating again.

"Let's get this over with," Hunter said, his lips brushing against my ear. He held my hand as he led me to the table, then motioned for me to sit in the chair beside him.

Scott sat across from us, and I don't know what else I expected, but I was still unprepared.

If you had told me one day I'd be sitting in Scott Henderson's lavish dining room attempting to enjoy a meal with his family, I would have laughed until I ruptured something. But there I was, sitting across from the devil himself with nothing but a bowl of steaming brussels sprouts and a gaudy candlestick between us.

I glanced around in confusion as we sat in silence while the food cooled in front of us.

Scott's mom gestured to the empty seat at the head of the table. "We're just waiting for my husband."

I nodded with a polite smile, hoping my expression didn't give away the thoughts in my head.

The table was obnoxiously long, with five chairs spread out an arm's length apart. I didn't know where the fifth chair had come from, because there were always four, but it matched the others. Maybe they had a reserve stack of formal dining chairs shoved in a closet somewhere. The dinner plates were stark white with gold filigree on the edges, and I had a few too many forks and spoons on each side. I wasn't sure if the plates matched the drapes or the drapes matched the plates, but everything matched everything in a way that made it all feel like a model home. If we weren't right there, sitting at the table, I would have been convinced no one lived there at all.

We sat in silence for ten minutes, but it felt as if I lost a few years of my life. I watched the clock tick mockingly slow while Hunter studied the ceiling. The front door blew open a few minutes past six, and dress shoes clicked cool and confident across the foyer. Scott's mom sat up straighter, plastering a dazzling smile on her face, and Hunter braced himself as if he was moments from being carried away by a tsunami.

I wasn't sure what I'd expected, maybe a balding ogre or that character in a movie who's always cast as the asshole just because he has the face for it, but Hunter's dad was none of those things. In fact, he was handsome. He gave me a pleasant smile before he glanced at Scott's mom in apology, and if I wasn't so struck by how similar he and Hunter were, I might have smiled back.

He was tall and lanky, dressed in a dark gray suit. Instead of black hair, his was brown with flecks of gray, and his skin was tan, as though he'd just returned from a cruise or an all-inclusive vacation. But besides that, his face was the same. He was older but still striking, and all his mannerisms combined into staggering familiarity. His eyes were the same intense green, and when they landed on me again, my heart stopped as if it was conditioned to do so.

"You must be Alice," he said, "I was glad to hear you'd be joining us."

I couldn't help gaping back at him. I tried to swallow as my brain prompted me to say something. "Yeah, hi."

He returned a curt nod and settled into his chair at the head of the table. "This looks fantastic, sweetheart."

I eyed the glass of wine in front of me, unsure if it was meant to be a test or a subtle indication of high class. I picked up my outermost fork, and Scott's mom shot me a concerned glance.

"How about grace?" She brought her hands together as she looked around the table, ensuring everyone else did the same, including me. I tucked my hands back in my lap, my cheeks warming. Scott and Hunter's dad followed suit as she began rattling off a familiar prayer, but Hunter stared at the ceiling, his arms folded across his chest in resolute protest.

By the time she finished, Hunter had attracted his dad's attention. "Would it kill you to have some respect?"

Hunter shrugged. "Maybe." And then he was shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth, rendering him incapable of continuing the conversation.

"This looks really good," I forced out, passing a basket of bread to Hunter.

Scott's mom smiled at me as if I was a tiny doll propped up at the table. "Oh, she's absolutely darling, Hunter!"

I tried to smile back but failed miserably.

"Okay?" Hunter said, and if I wasn't so uncomfortable, I might have laughed.

She reached over to place her hand on top of his, but Hunter slid his fist off the table. Her pink fingernails tapped the intricate tablecloth a few times before she brought her hand back to her lap.

"So, what do your parents do, Alice?" Hunter's dad asked.

Hunter rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh before tearing his roll and stuffing half of it into his mouth. He was either starving or figured he might as well get creative with ways to off himself before dinner was over. I peeked sideways at him.

"My dad's a lawyer in California, and my mom's an administrative assistant at a tax office."

Scott's mom clapped her hands together. "How wonderful!"

I stared at her, unsure if she'd misheard me.

"What kind of lawyer?" Hunter's dad cut into his steak, glancing at me with his quizzical green eyes when I didn't answer right away.

"He's a public defender." I took a polite sip of water, too afraid to take a bite of food in case he asked me another question. I didn't need everyone's eyes boring into me as I tried to swallow an entire mouthful, eyes watering like a snake gulping down a rabbit, just to ease the awkward silence.

Hunter's dad pointed his fork at me. "You should tell him to get into IT law, being in California and all."

My politeness waned, but I managed a smile as best I could.

"I'm sure if her dad wanted to do that, he would," Hunter droned, scraping his fork across his plate with screeching force.

Hunter's dad eyed him with so much distaste it made my skin crawl. "I'm making conversation, Hunter."

"Alice, darling, I think I know your mother," Scott's mom said. "Does she attend the PTA meetings? Oh, she is absolutely darling. What's her name again?"

"Jane Matthews." My mom did go to the PTA meetings when she could, and though she wouldn't say a bad word about anyone, she'd wince at being called darling, especially by someone much younger than her.

"Lovely is a synonym for darling," Hunter offered, and the entire table stilled.

"What did you say?" Hunter's dad glared at him, and the tightness in Scott's mom's shoulders mimicked mine as we held a collective breath. The electricity in the room grew sharp with warning, promising a storm.

Hunter leaned back in his chair, one lazy arm swung over the back of it, his mouth twitching. "I was just making conversation."

"You'll treat your mother with respect."

Hunter didn't hesitate. "She's not my mother."

Scott had been following the conversation as though it was an entertaining tennis match, and unlike his mom and me, he salivated for an eruption. He lifted his wine glass. "And thank god for that!"

Hunter's dad's mouth twisted into a smirk so familiar my stomach dropped through my chair. "Has Hunter told you about his mother, Alice?"

I wasn't sure what the best response would be to make him stop talking altogether, so I tried to answer as neutrally as possible. "Mm-hmm."

Scott's mom shushed him with a wave. "Oh, John, please, let's not talk about that."

"Fine, fine." Hunter's dad put both his hands up. "We don't need to talk about it, but all I'll say is you seem like a smart girl, Alice, and it's important to be with someone of sound mind because, as it turns out, mental weakness is unfortunately hereditary."

"John!" Scott's mom hissed, her eyes wide with embarrassment. Hunter's dad lifted his hands in placating apology before he dabbed the corner of his mouth with his cloth napkin. Hunter's expression was black with rage as he stared at his plate, concentrating on his mashed potatoes and brussels sprouts as if they were the only things anchoring him to the world.

"So what are your plans after high school, Alice?" Scott's mom's voice was saturated with overcompensating politeness, and I glanced up at her subject change.

I wasn't sure what was worse—me or Hunter in the hot seat. Scott leaned forward, just as interested in my answer as she was.

"College, I suppose. I'm a junior ..."

"Oh! I didn't realize you were younger than Scott and Hunter. Is there anything in particular you'd like to study?"

My smile was so forced it hurt my cheeks. "I'm not too sure yet." It was the truth, but I would have said the same thing even if it wasn't. Scott was on a strict information diet, and I didn't intend to start feeding him, no matter how nicely his mom asked.

"Well, we have all sorts of brochures from when we visited schools with Scott." She beamed at him, her chest heaving with pride. "He was recruited by nearly every school in the Northeast. You should give all those brochures to Alice, darling."

Scott's grin was as evil as ever. "Of course. I still have them upstairs. Why don't you come up to my room after dinner?"

I looked away from him and fixated instead on Hunter's hand gripping his fork as though he was trying to bend the silver. I might have half nodded; I couldn't be sure.

"Hunter's still trying to decide." Scott's mom's tone was light, and Hunter's knuckles turned whiter around his utensil.

"Can we not," he said through clenched teeth, still glaring at his plate.

His dad let out a surprised laugh. "Not this again, Carol. We both know Hunter isn't fit for higher education."

Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't that, and my head jerked up in surprise. "Why not?" I demanded, startling even myself.

The entire table grew silent as everyone stared at me in shock, even Hunter. My breathing grew shallow as Hunter's dad raised his eyebrows in obnoxious challenge. He inspected me before glancing at Scott and his wife in amusement. "Well, for starters, you can't just take months off of college for mental fragility."

"He'll probably do community college, won't you, darling?" Scott's mom said.

Hunter twirled his fork in his mashed potatoes, shooting her a sour look. "Sure, why not."

"He's the salutatorian," I said, even louder. I wasn't sure if it was Scott across from me that made me predisposed to rage, but my hands were starting to shake, and the words coming out were flashing bolts of lightning, instantaneous and without warning.

Hunter's dad barked out a harsh note of laughter. "Lord, help us."

I glanced around the table in disbelief, but all I received in return was one look of pity from Scott's mom and matching amusement from Hunter's dad and Scott, as if I was as stupid as they claimed Hunter to be.

"Alice," Hunter said. His voice was soft, but his lips didn't move as he traced more shapes into the food on his plate.

And maybe that's what did it. Maybe it was his softness or his bent head. Maybe it was Scott leering at me. Maybe it was everything combined that triggered a defense mechanism I'd long abandoned trying to find.

"He takes all AP classes, and he didn't even have to stay back a year when he took that time off." I clenched my fists beneath the table. It felt a lot like a panic attack. The same fuzzy vision and choked-down breaths, but instead of terror, I felt pure, unfiltered rage.

Hunter's dad chuckled. "Well, I hope so. He'd have to be beyond incompetent to fall a year behind in high school. And that reminds me, I've been meaning to have a conversation with administration about the school curriculum. AP classes are supposed to be college-level courses. Pretty soon, our school district will be as competitive as the inner-city districts, for god's sake." He reached for his glass of wine, swirling it before taking a swig.

"He doesn't take any AP classes," I said, gesturing at Scott.

"I have a full ride to Penn State, thank you very much." Scott looked as if he wanted to strangle me, but his gaze darkened with humor as he leaned forward. "How interesting that you know my class schedule, though."

"I only know it because you're too stupid to take classes at your own grade level," I snapped.

I thought the room had been silent before, but there had still been shifting and breathing. This silence was different. There was nothing but shattered air and my heartbeat in my ears.

Amid the nothingness, I couldn't pull my gaze from Scott, maintaining eye contact with him for longer than I'd been able to tolerate in two years. If it were just the two of us, he would have been on top of me, his fingers wrapped around my throat until my lungs gave out and my eyes rolled back. I was his personal black hole. All his evilness and awfulness disappeared into me, and I never knew where it went, but I felt it then. I felt all of it.

I stood up, rattling all the unneeded silverware against my plate, almost taking the tablecloth with me. "I thought the worst part about this meal was sitting across from you," I said, waving a hand at Scott. "But sitting here listening to all of you talk about Hunter like he isn't sitting right here ... like he's some kind of leper. Mental fragility ..." I mulled the words over with a harsh laugh. "If you were my dad, I'd have tried to kill myself too."

Scott's mom was stricken, but Hunter's dad grew furious. His face hardened with loathing as he leaned back in his chair. He didn't say anything for several long moments, and somehow, that was worse. "You'd be wise to leave, Miss Matthews."

Hunter was still sitting, eyes wide with disbelief and jaw slack as he stared up at me.

Not needing to be told twice, I pivoted for the door. "Let's go, Hunter." And then I stalked out of the room, praying he wasn't too shell-shocked to follow because I really didn't want to have to burst back in to drag him out.