3. Winter

The manager sentme back to my table, apologizing the entire way for a staff member stepping out of line and being so unprofessional.

"It's not a big deal, just don't tell my dad." I tried to keep the plea out my voice. Either way, I was fucked at this point. If Leonard told my dad, he'd be disappointed. If Leonard blamed Asher, he'd hate me.

I was used to Asher hating me and ignoring me. But my dad? His love for me was a finite thing. Precious and in short supply. Fragile. He was the only person I trusted in the world, and without the four annual visits I managed to get from him, I didn't know what would happen to me.

I was subdued for the rest of dinner, nervous and antsy, wondering what the hell was going on with Asher. He'd probably be fine. Leonard seemed like a reasonable guy.

"And where did you sneak off to? You know it's rude not to share?" Trent murmured beside me.

I was toying with a piece of birthday cake, pushing it around the plate again and again. "Nowhere."

"Liar. Why don't you make an excuse again, and we can get rid of the old folks," Trent suggested and rested his hand on my thigh.

His skin was so hot and clammy the moist heat sank through my satin dress. I moved immediately, trying to dislodge it.

"Pass. You're not my type," I muttered.

I tried to subtly move his hand, but he held on. Sinking his fingers hard into my skin, he halted my wriggling. Pain lanced up my leg. I gasped, gripping his wrist. His fingers were pressing so hard there'd be bruises.

"What are you doing?" I panted, trying not to attract attention. I didn't think it would go down well with the parents to tell them Trent was mauling me under the table. Somehow, he'd make it my fault.

"Just taking the chance to educate you about something pretty straightforward…so easy to understand, even you can manage it. I don't give a fuck about your type. You — Winter, apple of Charles' eye — are my type, and that's the only thing that matters."

He pressed harder for a moment, and everything around me fell away except the pain.

He smiled, enjoying my reaction. "Got it?"

The second his hand released my thigh, I pushed my chair back, breathing hard.

"Winter?" Mom asked, eyeing me curiously. "What is it?"

"I'm just tired, all the champagne, you know…I think it's gone to my head," I stammered.

Trent slid an arm behind my back proprietarily. "I can take Winter home if she wants to go," he offered.

"No!" I shot out. "It's fine."

"Don't be silly. You just said you were tired," Trent pointed out.

I couldn't be alone with the guy. I had no idea what he'd do.

Mom glanced between us. She'd been drinking heavily all night, which was her go-to move at events and family dinners, but despite that, there was a keenness to her gaze.

"It's fine, Trent, but thank you for the offer. I'm tired, too. I'll have the driver take Winter and me home and return for Charles."

I could have kissed her. I stood and hurried to her side as she pulled her cashmere wrap around her and said goodbye to Duncan.

Trent watched me with his small, greedy little eyes. His cheeks were red. He was pissed off.

"Until next time, Winter," he said, and leaned in to kiss me goodbye on the cheek. "I'm looking forward to it."

He pulled away, and I hurried after my mother, not daring to turn back.

I showered when I got home. Trent's hand on my thigh felt like it had left an imprint of filth on my skin. I emptied my bag next, and the Carrick bend knot fell out.

Asher.

I didn't have his number, and I doubted he'd want to hear from me even if I did. Would Leonard have gotten him in trouble? What kind of trouble? I chewed my lip and considered calling his sister to ask her. Eve was a sweet girl. One of the nicest I'd ever met. I had a suspicion she might actually be as sweet and kind as she seemed, which should surely be impossible. I took out my phone and stared at it. But what if he wanted to keep the whole drama a secret and I only made it worse?

I stood in my towel, hesitant and undecided. In the end, I threw my phone on the bed and dried my hair. There was nothing I could do for Asher now. Honestly, I'd make the same decision again. I couldn't afford to lose the crumbs of attention my parents gave me, and getting busted buying pot and smoking it at their country club would certainly do it. I was a daddy's girl, after all, and he doted on me, giving me everything but his time and attention. The only way our relationship worked was if I hid all the ugly parts of myself, the ones that didn't fit, and kept it together for the limited time I got to see him every few months. I couldn't deviate from that unspoken rule. I just couldn't. A lifetime of habits couldn't be changed in one night.

Anyway, who was Asher to me? He'd been downright rude to me throughout high school. He'd made it clear how little he wanted to do with me. I didn't owe him anything.

Anything at all.

If I kept telling myself that, maybe I'd start to believe it.

"Winter?" A soft knock at the door jolted me from my doom-spiraling.

Mom came into my room. I couldn't even remember the last time she'd been in there. She stood uneasily in the middle, looking around like she was in a museum.

"What's up?"

"I just wanted to check on you. I know Duncan and his son can be…intense," she finished. Her gaze latched onto the white-gold bracelet that Duncan had given me for my sixteenth birthday. At the time, it had sent my mother into a tailspin. She'd stormed out of the room, and later, I'd heard her arguing about it with my dad.

"I don't want her to have it, Charles, you tell Duncan that now. Why would he think that was an appropriate gift?"

"I think he's just feeling sentimental, and Winter looks like Ruth's twin. He just misses her, Angela, and so do I."

"Ruth hated that bracelet; it was the reminder of whatever mystery was going on between her and Duncan that lead to what happened."

"It's just a bracelet, Angela. Nothing more. It's churlish to refuse. He loved her, for all his faults. I'll never doubt that."

It had been silent after that whispered exchange. It was a weird-as-hell conversation, and I'd had no idea what to make of it at sixteen, so I'd pushed it deep down inside with all my other raging issues and insecurities. It was in good company. I had a lot of them.

"You wear it often," Mom mused, and studied the bracelet.

I shrugged. "Dad said it was a family heirloom."

"Yes, I suppose it is." Mom sat awkwardly on the end of my bed. I sat near her, wondering what the hell had brought on this maternal moment.

"I can't believe it's your birthday already. Freshman year is already halfway done, and soon you'll graduate and leave us."

"I still have years to go."

"You're such a good student, I just can't help but wonder if there's anything other than school going on in your life…a boyfriend, perhaps?" Mom raised an eyebrow teasingly.

I shook my head. "You already asked me tonight, remember? I've only gone out with the guys you've asked me to," I reminded her. I couldn't trust anyone for their reasons to get close to me. I only went on the dates my parents set up to make them happy.

Mom nodded. "But you're living on campus now, in the sorority house. There's bound to be men at your parties…maybe you'll find a boyfriend?"

"Mom, the way you're saying it is like you want me to bring home some rando from school. Wouldn't Dad hate that?" I pointed out.

Mom shook her head. "No, of course not. If you really liked him, your father would be on board. He dotes on you. You can do no wrong in his eyes."

Except tonight I nearly ruined that.The guilty feeling about Asher and the pot snuck through my mind again, but I pushed it away.

"I haven't met anyone," I stated honestly. I wasn't lying. I wasn't going to jump into bed with someone I barely knew, and I'd never let anyone get close enough to really know them. I was stuck in a cycle of being distrustful of people's motives and I had no way out.

"You should try. These are the years where you are so…free," my mother said, reaching out to grip my hand. "A nice boy who loves you and will protect you…slay your monsters for you."

"It's freshman year, not the season finale of a zombie show. I can handle myself just fine," I protested. Then Trent's face entered my mind.

Could I really protect myself just fine? I had no idea. I was also pretty sure that even if I had no actual monsters at my door, I had plenty inside my head, and those would be even harder to get rid of. I just couldn't open up to someone like that, and I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to.

Mom sighed and patted my hand. "Well, if you do, just know we'll be happy for you. Don't be afraid to tell us, even if it's tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, Mom. You can stop being weird now," I told her, smiling to ease the tension.

She left soon after, still seeming troubled. She was toying with a necklace she always wore, twisting it around her finger again and again. A nervous habit.

I thought of Asher tying and untying nautical knots. How had he wedged himself so firmly inside my head after one evening? What was wrong with me? I was sure he wasn't thinking fondly of me, or our little talk while smoking tonight. In fact, he was probably cursing my name somewhere. Somehow, I'd managed to make him hate me more than he already did. I was uniquely talented at being unlikable. My one gift.

I dressed in a long flannel nightshirt, closed the curtains, and got into bed. It was cold in Hade Harbor, with tomorrow being New Year's Eve.

I plugged in my phone, turned off the light, and tried to shove the entire upsetting dinner out of my head. I must have been really tired, because it worked, despite the anxious feeling in my gut.

The world faded away.