Cam reaches under the table and grabs my hand.
“You don’t hate yourself because you think you caused this. You hate that you have to tell people this—” I motion to myself, “—belongs to you.”
“That’s not fair.” She shakes her head. “I’ve—”
“No, Mom,” I breathe. “What’s not fair is feeling unwanted by the one person who’s supposed to want you more than anything. The one person who’s supposed to love you no matter what.”
I pull my hand out of Cam’s and throw my napkin on the table. I stand up, almost knocking my chair out from behind me.
“You didn’t want me leaving the house when I was little, and back then, I thought it was to protect me, but it was because you were ashamed. And I used to be too, but you know what, I’m not anymore.”
Because I have someone who makes me feel beautiful. I have someone who tells me I’m beautiful.
“Ember,” my dad whispers.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be excused.” But I don’t wait for them to respond before leaving the table.
twenty-five
Declan
Is dad working late?” Brinley wonders, and when I look at my mom, she doesn’t seem surprised that I haven’t told her yet.
“Actually, he should be here soon,” she replies.
My lips slightly part as I look between my mom and Brinley. Why would she invite him for Thanksgiving dinner? Unless they’re going to tell us together, they’re getting divorced. Knowing my dad, he’d pick a holiday as the perfect time to let us know he cheated on our mom and ruined our family.
“Speaking of,” I mumble as I hear the front door open. He walks into the dining room and sets his briefcase down on an empty chair before kissing Brinley on her head.
As he makes his way over to my mom, my eyes are drawn to his belt. The same belt I watched him loop closed barely two months ago as he had his body pressed against another woman.
He kisses her—
On the lips.
I can’t hold in the small scoff that escapes my lips, but with a pleading look from my mom, I let it go.
I won’t have Brinley find out this way.
“Son.” He sticks his hand out, and I force myself to grab it. Then he takes a seat next to Mom.
“How’s school been, Brinley?” he asks like he cares. He’s never cared about her, about my mom, about me. Unless it was about hockey, he wanted nothing to do with it.
She looks at me with wide eyes before she responds, “Oh, um, it’s fine.”
“Good,” he continues. “Has your sorority done any banquets this year?”
“We have one coming up in a couple weeks.” She takes a bite of her mashed potatoes. “Right before winter break.”
“That’s great. Will you be attending this one too?” He looks at me.
He knows I have no choice; it’s a sorority-organized banquet to help get funding for the hockey program. But it’s really just an excuse for rich people to dress up and give money to a college hockey team that gets plenty of funding. Forget about people and places that actually need it.
“Don’t really have a choice.”
“You should go with that one girl.” He pauses. “Um, who’s that girl in your sorority, Brinley? Mandy or—”
“Mollie,” she clarifies.
