Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
GUNNER
This dinner was a bad idea. With mom and Victoria eager to shun Rebel at all costs, it feels like I dragged Rebel into the lion’s den without any weapons to defend herself.
Honestly, she shouldn’t have needed a weapon in the first place.
I should have been her defense.
But because it’s mom, I’ve been walking a tight rope, not wanting to step on any toes while watching Rebel parry countless attacks.
Rebel handled herself well, but a relationship—fake or otherwise—doesn’t involve just one person. It’s a team sport. If we were players on the ice, I’d be a crappy defenseman. In fact, I’d be kicked off the team. No questions asked.
Rebel doesn’t seem to expect much from me, which is probably why she didn’t look at me once for back up. She even tried to get me to stand down when I left the booth.
Unfortunately, I’ve been holding myself back all night and I can’t any longer.
The doorman opens the door for mom and dips his head politely. My mother stomps past him, her eyes set on the parking lot.
I nod at the doorman and follow her into the darkness.
Mom stops a few paces from the restaurant’s front door. “What exactly is it that you want to say, Gunner Kinsey?”
Her arms cross over her chest and she glares at me, while simultaneously bracing herself.
I’m not surprised that mom sniffed out my true intentions. Even Rebel sensed what this sudden trip ‘to the car’ was about.
“Mom, I love you, but I can’t and won’t sit by while you embarrass and berate my girlfriend.”
“Who said I was?—”
“That comment about her not being able to afford to eat at a restaurant like this one…”
Mom stutters. “It was just an observation! She clearly can’t.”
“… and then, a few seconds ago, when you snapped at her like she’s a child…”
“I was simply pointing out how long we had the waitress waiting!”
“I love you,” I say again. My father raised me to be unafraid of those words and I mean them sincerely. “But Rebel did not sign up to be dragged by my mother and my ex-girlfriend on a Saturday night. I won’t ask you to like her, but I will ask you to be respectful of her.”
Mom’s jaw drops. “Gunner.”
“If it happens one more time, mom, I’ll be taking Rebel away. We will leave the table and the restaurant.” My words are low and respectful but firm.
I don’t want mom to think I’m joking or that I’m only saying this to intimidate her. I will leave if she hurts Rebel again, but I truly hope it doesn’t come to that.
I think Rebel and mom have a lot in common—not that either woman will appreciate the comparison. They’re both fierce, independent, brilliant women. Together, they’d be an unstoppable force.
Mom blinks rapidly. She runs her teeth over her bottom lip, back and forth. “You!” She shakes her head and starts pacing. “You’ve been brainwashed!”
I have no idea what to say to that because she’s not wrong.
I spent my entire life pretending Rebel Hart didn’t exist but, now, she’s all I can see. The shift wasn’t gradual at all. It’s like I had control of the puck and a winger came out of nowhere, body slamming me into the boards.
I was blindsided.
“That woman…!” Mom flings a finger at the restaurant and then pulls the finger back to rub her temple. “You would never talk to me like this. It must be her idea.”
I tilt my head back in a silent groan. Did mom completely miss my point? Or did I not say anything? Have I become so quiet, so reclusive, that when I speak, no actual words leave my lips?
“I raised you with my blood, sweat and tears,” mom grinds out, “I gave birth to you and changed your diapers and ran after you every day on the farm, keeping you away from sharp objects and electrical outlets and small, digestible knickknacks that could kill you. I gave you the best education, the best hockey gear, the most expensive trips to foreign countries. I did everything for you and you choose that girl over me?”
“Mom—”
“Forget it! You’ve made yourself clear. You don’t care about me or my opinion.”
I heave out a sigh. Where in my entire speech did I use those words?
“I won’t say anything more to her tonight. In fact, I’ll pretend she’s not even there.” Mom stabs her finger in my chest. “But don’t even think of sending her to the Lady Luck Society meeting tomorrow.”
I grimace. Uh-oh.
“I know that little Jumbotron announcement was your scheme, but I will not be bullied into letting anyone into my sacred space. We can play nice at the table, but the Lady Luck Society is my jurisdiction and she is definitely not invited.”
I grimace. “Mom, wait?—”
Her phone pings.
Mom gives it an aggravated glance. “It’s your father. He wants to know if everything’s alright. Let’s go back in before he comes out here looking for us.”
I watch my mother stomp back into the restaurant. She yanks on the door before the doorman can get to it and lets it crash closed.
Oh no.
What have I done?
Rebel’s only reason for going out with me is to lock in a seat inside the Lady Luck Society. I know how much joining the Ladies means to her.
And this talk with mom might have just cost her everything.
I return to the table. The atmosphere is tense. Mom is sitting stiffly, her mouth twisted into a hard frown and her eyes on the table. Dad has his arm around her and is rubbing a soothing circle on her shoulder.
When I look at Rebel, I find her gaze waiting.
She arches an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
I do a tiny head shake.
Rebel gives me an uncertain smile and prepares to scoot out of the bench so I can slide in. When I brush by her, I take her wrist and ask quietly, “Do you want to leave?”
“Not until I get your mom to tell me when and where the next Society meeting will be,” she whispers back.
I wince.
How do I tell Rebel that’s not going to happen tonight?
Thankfully, I don’t have to kill her dreams because dad does it for me. He clears his throat and says, “Um, ladies, son, I think your mom’s tuckered out from tonight’s game. I’ll cancel our order and take her back home. I’ll pay for your meals on the way out. You young folks can stay and enjoy yourselves.”
Rebel’s eyes widen and she sends me a panicked look.
I look away. As much as I read the request in her eyes, I’m not stopping dad or trying to keep mom here.
“Carol, are you feeling unwell?” Victoria asks, half-rising out of her seat.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” mom says weakly. “Like my husband said, you all enjoy yourselves without me.”
Rebel clears her throat. I can see the desperation in her eyes. “Carol, before you go, I wanted to talk about?—”
I give Rebel’s jacket a tug to stop her question.
But it’s too late.
Mom spins around, her eyes filleting Rebel like raw fish. “What were you going to say?”
This time, I squeeze Rebel’s knee.
She brushes my hand off and keeps plowing forward. “We haven’t had a chance to chat about the promise you made at the luncheon. When you’re feeling better, I’d like to?—”
“There must be some misunderstanding.” Mom’s voice is colder than the ice cubes in Rebel’s mocktail. “I didn’t make any promises at the luncheon.”
I inhale a deep breath, filling my lungs. And then I hold that breath until it hurts.
Rebel blinks, going a shade paler. “Yes, you did. Everyone at this table was there.” Her voice is laced with a hint of panic. “They even announced it on the Jumbotron.”
“Yes, well, whoever did such a thing,” mom’s eyes flash to me and singe my skin, “was equally mistaken.”
I grimace. “Mom, you said you were tired. Dad, you should take her home.”
But my mother’s on the hunt and she smells blood. There’s no stopping her.
Shaking out of dad’s grasp, mom takes a step toward the table, her eyes locked on Rebel. “As long as I am the chairwoman of the Lady Luck Society…”
Rebel eases back, blinking rapidly as if she knows what’s coming.
“… someone like you will never be allowed to join us.” Mom raises her chin a notch. “Your application is denied.”
My heart slams against my chest and I look at Rebel. Despair shatters her expression. Seeing the hurt bleed through her eyes makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
Rebel stutters. “But?—”
“But what?” Mom zeroes in on her, delivering a punishing blow. “It shouldn’t matter what the Society decides. It’s not like you announced you were dating my son just to get in. Because that would make you a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?”
Rebel’s nostrils flare like she’s trying not to cry. She looks away, her lips trembling.
“You three have a good night.” Mom cuts her hand through the air, returns to my father’s side and allows him to escort her from the table.
The din from around the restaurant swoops back into my ears and I realize I’d tuned the entire world out for a solid three minutes.
Rebel’s head sinks and her hair swishes forward to hide her face. It hurts so bad watching her defeated posture. Her devastation is palpable.
There’s not much I can say that will make this better, but I wish I could find the words. Any words.
Just then, Ann bounces back to the table as chirpy as ever. “Alright, folks, I got your… oh? Where did this side of the table go?”
“Ann, we’ll take those to go,” I point to the food on her tray, my eyes on Rebel.
Ann’s smile wanes. “Y-yeah. Sure. I’ll be right back with some containers.”
While Ann hustles away, Rebel grabs her purse, shoots to her feet and steps out of the booth. Her intentions to leave are clear and I’m right there with her.
“Gunner, where are you going? Who’s going to take me home?” Victoria calls.
I keep following Rebel.
Rebel throws me a teary-eyed look over her shoulder. “Don’t follow me.”
“Let me drive you.”
“I want to be alone.”
“Rebel.”
“Please. I just want to be alone right now.” Her voice breaks on the last word and I want nothing more than to give her a hug.
But I respect her wishes and remain in place while she rushes through the restaurant, throws the door open and disappears outside.
“Gun—Mr. Kinsey,” Ann appears in front of me, “your containers?” She lifts a bunch of paper boxes.
I force myself to return to the table.
Victoria stares me down. “Were you just going to leave me here?”
I don’t answer her. Why should I? We’re no longer dating. My priority is the woman who just stormed out of this restaurant on the verge of tears.
My chest feels tight and I rub a hand there. It was a bad decision to let Rebel leave. How is she going to get home? What if she orders a ride and the driver takes one look at her and tries to kidnap her? The world is a dangerous place.
Victoria pouts. “Your mom brought up a good point, Gunner. Did Rebel ask you to be her boyfriend so she can get into the Society? Because that’s a form of manipulation and fraud. Your mom could even sue.”
My mind whirrs. Is Rebel going to cry alone in the taxi? Will she spend all night, torturing herself with mom’s harsh words?
“I’d be happy to represent the Kinseys. I heard Rebel’s friend, April Brooks, is trying to sue your Uncle Stewart. We can even use this to counter sue?—”
Abruptly, I take out my wallet and slap a hundred-dollar bill on the table. Then I turn to Victoria. “You have your license on you?”
“Yes, but Gunner, I was saying we could sue?—”
I slap my car keys on the table. “Take my car back to town. I’ll have one of my cousins pick it up from you later.”
“What? Gunner! Where are you going? We’re in the middle of a conversation!”
Her words slap my back as I sprint out of the restaurant. I don’t care that everyone’s watching me. I only hope that Rebel is outside when I get there.