Page 60 of Wild and Bright

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore.” Her voice is hushed. “I think this might be something you need to work through. It’s definitely something that I’ve had to work through, and I’m still not there. Jeremiah has given me no real reason not to trust him, and yet it’s so hard for me. But that’s because trust is an action, not a feeling.”

“That’s bullshit therapy talk. Trust is earned.”

She shakes her head as she lifts her mimosa and takes a small sip. “I don’t agree. Because for people like you and me—and by that I mean people with anxiety—the people in our lives could never do enough to earn it.”

“I don’t have anxiety.” My voice is so loud, I draw the attention of the other three.

“No, you’re just an asshole,” Hunter says with a smile.

My brows draw together at the coldness in his tone. I can’t ever remember him being this snarky with me.

“We’re talking about how Cam and I are both control freaks,” Janie says.

A goofy grin spreads across Jeremiah’s face as he turns to Janie and sets a hand on her thigh. “I married Larry David.”

“Eww.” Janie cringes. “I’m not that bad.”

“Controlling people is Cam’s love language,” Hunter says.

I whip my head in his direction. As expected, he has that same coy smile I’ve seen so many times in the last month and a half since his relapse. It’s a malicious smile, I realize now.

“That’s a fucked-up thing to say.” As soon the words are out, the whole table goes quiet. Hunter’s smile fades, his eyes widening. I sense the discomfort of the others, but I’m too riled up to care. His words are too hauntingly similar to what Lauren said about her mom last night. I may have my issues, but I’m no Helen fucking Henderson.

“I was joking,” Hunter says, his voice small.

“No, you fucking weren’t.” I’m practically shouting now, but I don’t care. “You’ve been acting like an asshole since you relapsed, constantly making passive aggressive jabs at me. If you have something to say to me, say it directly. You’re a fucking grown-ass man. I don’t care if you’ve struggled. We all have our shit. It’s not an excuse to treat people like garbage.”

The hurt in his eyes sends a pang of guilt into my chest.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

I roll my eyes, sick to death of this conversation after years of having it over and over again. “I know exactly what you’ve been through. I know what you’ve been through probably even better than you do, because I was actually sober for it. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You have no idea what it’s like to love someone who’s been to rehab six times, and to the hospital eight. You can’t even understand the panic—”

“Cam.” Isaac’s stern voice summons me out of my head, and I realize that I’m not only nearly yelling at Hunter, but I'm also jabbing my finger at him.

Good God, who am I? Why am I yelling at my baby brother for his chemical dependency, something he literally can’t help? Why am I calling him an asshole for understandably resenting that Mother Nature dealt him a shitty hand when it comes to brain chemistry?

“Maybe you should table this for now,” Isaac says, reaching out and patting me hard on the back. “Wait till you can talk somewhere private.”

“I agree,” Janie says, her eyes wide. “People are looking at us. I think I even saw someone with their phone in the air. I don’t want anyone to post this on Instagram or YouTube or something.”

“I’m sorry,” I say on an exhale. “I’m having a bad day.”

“Yeah, Lauren told me.”

Startled, my gaze darts to Hunter.

“As a matter of fact,” he says. “I should probably call her back. I told her I would so she could finish venting about what an asshole you are.” The words were said breezily, but I know it took effort.

He’s hurt. He’s hurt, and he’s trying to hide it.

Still, his movements are light as he stands up from the table and starts walking in the direction of restaurant entrance. I feel like utter shit after everything I said, and I wish I could reach out and hug him like I used to when he was a little boy—squeezing his shoulders and pressing my cheek against his—but I can’t stifle this familiar feeling of jealousy. It makes my skin hot and my chest tight.

Of course she would turn to him.

She always does.

SEVENTEEN

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