I head toward the food table before avoidance turns into a bigger monster. Plates. Napkins. Condiments lined up. I pick manageable things. Familiar things. Some strawberries, a few grapes. Some of the chicken breast that’s been grilled. In my mind, I’m doing my best not to try to guess the amount of calories that are sitting on my plate. My skin pricks slightly, sensing someone’s stare.
When I turn, Weston is watching me.
Great.
He strides over, then visibly reins himself in like he remembers Kai’s earlier warning. He grabs a plate and piles it with enough food to feed a small village, then tilts his head toward a quieter corner.
“Come sit,” he says. Not bossy. Just an offer really, and one that I accept. We claim two chairs just off the patio. Weston takes a massive bite of burger and speaks around it like a feral raccoon. “Nowwe judge everyone, lovingly, while we eat.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter.
“Thank you,” he says, grinning.
I eat my food slowly. Eating in public still feels like being observed under a microscope even when no one is watching. Kaiiswatching, though. Being the good sister I am, I pop another grape into my mouth, earning me a small nod in approval. I wish he didn’t do that. I know I need to eat. Truly, I do. But eating in public, especially when there are choices to be made, makes me all but lose my appetite completely.
After beginning my journey through therapy for my depression and anxiety, I started working with a nutritionist to help me find things to fuel my body without causing me to spiral.
First, we started with simply switching out a normal spoon for a child-sized spoon. Taking the smaller bites seemed to help trick my mind into thinking I was eating less. From there, we moved on to eating smaller portioned meals and snacks more frequently before settling on my comfort zone of three snacks and two meals a day.
It took two years before I could sit at the dinner table and have a normal meal with my parents. I never wanted anyone to see me eat. To this day, that’s still one of the hardest things for me. I always feel like someone is judging the amount of food on my plate, whether it is too little or too much.
Grayson’s eyes flick my way once, quick and then away. I know, because mine keep going back to him on their own accord. For some reason, that feels better than Kai’s constant surveillance.
After another hour of trying to socialize with my brother’s teammates, my body hits the line inside me that says,Enough.
I find Kai near the grill.
“I’m done,” I tell him.
He frowns. “Ten more minutes?”
“No,” I say firmly.
Kai’s eyes narrow. “Harlow.”
“I did it,” I say. “I came. I stayed. I’m leaving before I start resenting everyone.”
Weston overhears and gasps dramatically. “She’s so wise.”
Kai ignores him, jaw tight like he wants to argue. Then he exhales, shoulders easing. “Okay. I’ll walk you to your car.”
We make it down the walkway in silence, the noise fading behind us. Kai keeps his pace matched to mine—no pulling, no herding.
Finally, he says, “You did good.”
“Don’t,” I murmur.
Kai’s mouth twitches. “Too late.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“You love me,” he says, like it’s obvious.
I do.
That’s the problem.
6
