Page 43 of Making New Plans

Hunter let out a husky laugh. Taking a chance, I turned the tiniest bit into his side. His warmth and manly, soapy scent were oddly comforting. And again, he let me.

“Anyway, we practiced for weeks and weeks. Always in secret. Flynn knew, but I knew he was planning to tell my parents that he was quitting the college he’d just started to go to Los Angeles for ‘real’ art. So neither of us told on the other. A few days before the show, he announced his decision to my parents, and it was awful. He ended up leaving right away instead of waiting for my show, leaving me a note saying he was sorry and that he was proud of me.”

I paused to catch my breath, a stab of pain in my chest where I had carefully sewn up that wound a long time ago. But apparently, it’d never healed properly.

“Looking back, I realized that Flynn leaving the way he did definitely impacted my parents’ response. But the night of the performance, I was so nervous and excited. I couldn’t decide whether to puke or do a happy dance. I smiled so much I creased my makeup, and Sarah had to fix it. We got out on the stage, and people applauded. Sure, there were whispers since we were a little edgy, but the principal at the time had given us the okay. I looked out into the crowd and saw my parents sitting in the front row. Frozen. Horrified. Disgusted. I’d managed to single-handedly shatter the illusion of our picture-perfect prominent family. I tripped and nearly took out my drum set, but I sat down and started playing with Sarah and Carter. Not even thirty seconds in, my parents stood up and left the auditorium. Didn’t even look back. I was so hurt. I couldn’t focus. People were looking around, whispering about it. I screwed up the song, but we made it through to lukewarm applause.”

At some point, Hunter’s arm had settled around my shoulders and his other, uninjured hand was holding one of mine, stroking the back of it with his thumb. I hardly registered it, lost in my memory.

“I left right after we were done and ran home to confront my parents. As soon as I got through the front door, I could hear them screaming at each other. Something they’d never done. At least not in earshot of me. Such horrible, horrible things. Things about each other, about us. And one in particular stood out. My mother shrieking, ‘If I’d known those children were going to be such disappointments, I never would’ve had them!’”

Saying the words out loud crushed me all over again. I’d never had a particularly warm relationship with my mother, but hearing her say that out loud had cut something out of me that I’d never get back.

Surprisingly, reliving it didn’t make me cry. It was almost like describing a tragic scene from a movie. Still gut-wrenching but not sob-inducing. Keeping my eyes fixed on the starry sky, I finished in a raspy voice.

“I never told them I’d heard that. Never told Flynn either. I spent the night at Sarah’s, dyed my hair back, washed off all my makeup. When I went home, I told them I wanted to go to college and work in town. We never talked about that night. But it’s almost like, ever since then, I could feel them pushing me in the direction they wanted me to go a bit harder than before. Always trying to gain a little more control over my life. And I let them. Because it hurt less.”

I dared a glance at Hunter, but his face was unreadable. “All right, I’m calling in your promise again. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He edged closer, the entire left side of his body pressing into mine. My shivering body appreciated the anchor.

“Three things,” he said, his gaze boring down into mine. “One, you, Chloe Higgins, could never be a disappointment to anyone worth your while. Two, thank you for sharing with me. And three, why did you tell me all that? You didn’t have to. You could’ve brushed off my question, and I would’ve let you. So, why?”

Each word he spoke dropped onto my parched soul like gentle raindrops. Trapped in his gaze, I spoke the truth. “Because I felt like you needed to hear it. And I wanted to tell it. And, you know, the whole saying-what’s-on-our-minds thing. Now I know some of your secrets, and you know some of mine. We’re even again.”

My thoughts fizzled out as his face drew closer to mine. Random words tumbled from my mouth. “Now we…and you…can…”

His lips were a breath away. Slightly parted. His lashes fluttered over his darkened eyes.

My eyes drifted shut as my voice came out in a strangled whisper. “Hunter.”

“Chloe?” another voice said.

We jerked apart like two teenagers.

I whipped my head around, peering into the dark. Internally, I groaned. “Oh, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Kostello.”

Mrs. Kostello nodded as the elderly couple maneuvered on to another bench. “Hi, hon, I thought that was you. Your golden hair looks so pretty in the firelight.”

The Kostellos had been staying at the lodge for a couple of days now and had been very understanding of the whole flooding business.

“We just came out to enjoy the fire when we saw it,” she added, her eyes bouncing between me and Hunter.

Hunter casually scooted away from me while I adjusted my blankets. I aimed a bright smile at the couple, trying not to look like I’d just spilled my guts to someone I could hardly call a friend. Or like I’d been seconds away from maybe, hopefully, finding out just how good he tasted.

I shot to my feet. “Right. Well, anyway, I was actually about to head home. So, um, enjoy.”

The Kostellos bid us good night when Hunter also stood up. We walked back to the lodge, tension humming between us like a high-powered engine.

Then Hunter’s voice rumbled in the dark. “Another one of your happy, beach-humping couples, Chloe?”

I laughed. “I think they’re past that stage, but the beach and that firepit do see a lot of action.”

And then it was awkward again. Under the lights of the lodge’s entrance, he said good night while his eyes said something else. But with neither of us willing to say our thoughts out loud, I had no choice but to go home. I felt a little lighter and freer than I had in a while. Even though the Hunter situation was still a tangle of emotions and decisions.

It wasn’t until I arrived at my house and looked at my phone to see the handful of missed calls and texts that I realized I’d missed Sunday dinner. The first one since college finals. No doubt there was going to be hell to pay for that. But a second realization followed up the first with an odd sense of peace. I didn’t care.

15

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