Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning, Hunter and I sit at the dining table with his parents, Landon, and Kara.
A pot of coffee steams between us, the scent sharp and comforting.
If not for the stray birthday balloons clinging stubbornly to the ceiling, I might believe last night’s party never happened.
The maids have erased every trace of it—no empty glasses, no crumbs, no confetti.
“How are you feeling this morning, Hunter?” Mayumi asks with a teasing smile, hands cradling her mug. “You drank quite a bit last night.”
Hunter groans, head in his hands. “I feel like shit, but the coffee’s helping. Thanks.”
“Of course. Now, tell us—how did you and Mason meet?”
Just thinking about that night makes my heart stumble. “We met at a parade. I was stepping on an endangered plant, and Hunter yelled at me.”
Hunter frowns, his brows scrunched together. “I didn’t yell at you,” he says defensively. “I think we both hated each other at first, but we eventually warmed up to each other and became friends.”
Across the table, Landon clears his throat. The sound startles me. He’s been eerily quiet all morning, stirring his coffee in endless circles. “So, Mason. You’re a lifeguard, right?”
“Yes.” I sit a little straighter. “I also work at a burger joint.”
Landon arches a brow. “You don’t go to college?”
I hesitate, then shake my head. “No.”
The tense silence that follows makes my skin prickle. Sweat beads on the back of my neck. I know Hunter’s parents value formal education, and they probably think I’m a loser.
Which, I suppose, I am.
Hunter sets down his mug, the firm sound breaking the silence. “We should probably get going soon. It’s a long drive, and Mason needs to get back to his sister.”
“Oh?” Mayumi’s gaze softens. “You take care of her?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “My mom is sick, so… I do what I can.”
The pause that follows feels pitying, sitting heavy in my chest. I curl my fists under the table and squeeze until my nails bite my palms.
We exchange farewell hugs at the door—Kara quick and cheerful, Victor stiff but polite, Mayumi warm enough to make my heart ache. Landon offers me a silent handshake.
We walk out to Hunter’s parked car and toss our bags in the trunk before climbing inside. It smells like lavender, courtesy of the tiny sprigs dangling from his rearview mirror—a natural air freshener, he once told me. He starts the car, the low electric hum filling the quiet between us.
“Hey,” he says after a moment, glancing at me as he pulls down the long driveway. “You wanna stop at my favorite diner before we head back? Best pancakes in town. Ultimate hangover cure.”
I smile. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
The suburbs pass by the window in a blur of green lawns and neatly trimmed hedges. As we drive through the maze of cookie cutter houses, I pull out my phone to fire off a quick text to Maddie.
Mason: how was the sleepover?
Maddie: Fine.
That’s it. One word.
I stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard, tempted to push.
What’s fine? Did you eat? Did you have fun?
I don’t type any of it. Lately she’s been pulling away, wrapped up in her own storm.
Between Mom getting sicker and the court date with Stephen, she’s carrying more than any thirteen-year-old should. The least I can do is not crowd her.
So, I slip the phone back into my pocket, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Hunter takes the next turn, and the diner comes into view: a little brick building with a flickering neon sign that reads Rise n’ Shine, but a couple letters are burnt out, so it looks more like Ris n’ hine. The parking lot is cracked asphalt, littered with cigarette butts and faded paint lines.
Inside, the air is thick with the smell of frying bacon and butter. The hostess leads us to a booth by the window, the red vinyl seats patched with duct tape. Hunter slides in across from me, grinning wide and glancing around like he’s lost in nostalgia. His foot taps excitedly beneath the table.
“You look way too happy to be here,” I tease.
He shrugs. “Derek and I used to come here all the time in high school. Cheap coffee, and it was the only place in town that serves veggie burgers at lunchtime. What’s not to love?”
Before I can answer, a waiter strolls up with a notepad tucked under his arm.
He appears to be Hunter’s age, dark hair shaved close on the sides, name tag reading Cooper.
A rainbow He/Him pronoun pin shines on his apron.
Back in Claremont Shores, wearing something like that would make you a target. Here, it’s worn without hesitation.
His piercing blue eyes widen as soon as they land on Hunter. “Landon?” he blurts, brows shooting up. “Man, I thought you moved to Indiana for law school?”
I glance at Hunter, caught off guard, but he just blinks once before smoothing his expression into something polite. “Uh—hi, Cooper. You’re thinking of my brother. I’m Hunter. Just back in town visiting my parents.”
Cooper’s mouth falls open slightly. “No shit. Wow. Sorry, man, it’s just—you two really are identical. But damn…” His gaze lingers a little too long, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “You grew up nice.”
Hunter shifts in his seat, ears turning pink. “Uh—thanks. Anyway, good to see you again.”
Cooper clears his throat and flips open his notepad, finally tearing his eyes away. “Right. What can I get you two to drink?”
“Just water,” I say quickly, my voice coming out a little sharper than I intended.
“Coffee for me,” Hunter says with a smile.
Cooper’s lips quirk into a grin. “Coming right up.” He gives Hunter one last look before walking away, shoulders squared like he’s proud of himself.
“That was awkward,” Hunter grumbles.
I arch an eyebrow. “What? The very obvious flirting?”
His mouth parts in confusion. “What? No, I meant him mistaking me for Landon. It used to happen all the time, but not since I moved away.” He hesitates, side-eyeing me. “You seriously think he was flirting with me?”
I snort. “Duh.”
“It’s not like that. We went to high school together, so he’s just being friendly. It’s part of his job.”
“Aw, you’re oblivious. It’s so cute.”
Hunter makes his scrunched grumpy face, which only further proves my point.
Cooper reappears with a glass of water and a steaming mug of coffee. He sets them down smoothly. “Are you two ready to order food?”
“Yeah,” Hunter says. “I’ll have a stack of pancakes with a side of veggie sausage, please.”
My stomach grumbles at the thought, but when I discreetly check my CGM app under the table, the number flashing back at me makes my chest tighten. The coffee from earlier already sent me spiking. Pancakes would be a blood sugar bomb. I swallow my frustration.
“I’ll do a bacon omelette,” I say instead, a little more curtly than intended.
“Good choice,” Cooper replies, scribbling on his pad. Then, as he reaches for Hunter’s menu, his fingers brush lightly against Hunter’s wrist. His eyes flick up, and he winks before walking away.
Hunter blinks after him, stunned. I grip my water tighter than necessary.
“Now you believe me?” I ask, smirking around the rim of my glass.
He frowns, crossing his arms. “Fuck off. You’re not allowed to be jealous. I’ve been forced to watch girls flirt with you at the beach all summer.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but that doesn’t count. They’re girls. Guys don’t flirt with me.”
He groans. “That’s only ‘cause you’re not… you know.” He flops his wrist dramatically. “Like me.”
I just stare at him, not following
“You’re straight-passing,” he clarifies.
I know he’s not trying to be mean, but something stabs in my chest—the same feeling that haunts me at gay bars or LGBTQ clubs. It torments me and tells me I’m not queer enough. That I don’t belong.
My thumb traces the sweat dripping down my glass. “It’s not like I try to pass as straight, or whatever,” I mumble. “I’m just… me.”
His expression softens, guilty. “I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying that’s probably why guys don’t flirt with you in public.”
I tilt my head. “But you did.”
“That wasn’t flirting. That was just me being awkward, and for some reason, you liked it.”
I laugh, a warm smile melting on my lips. “I did.” My eyes drop to the gold chain glinting against his collarbone, the small beach glass pendant resting there. I nod toward it. “You look good in that necklace, by the way.”
His brows lift, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Burke. Sounds a lot like flirting.”
“Maybe it is.”
His cheeks darken as he ducks his head. He lifts the steaming mug to his lips and takes a sip. “So, what did you think of my family?”
I pause. “They seem nice. Your mom’s a sweetheart.”
He smiles softly. “She is.”
“Your dad is… formal, I guess, but he’s nice. And Kara’s great.”
“Yeah. They’ve been dating for a few years now. I hope they get married—she’d be a great sister-in-law.”
I glance down at the table. “I get the impression Landon doesn’t like me, though.”
His smile drops. He reaches across the table, pressing his hand over mine. “Don’t take it personally. Landon’s a jerk to all my friends—even Derek.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… what happened between you and Landon? I know you said you used to be close. Was it because of Travis?”
His throat bobs. “Mostly, yeah. Landon supported us dating at first, but when I moved out of our shared apartment to live with Travis, I think he felt… abandoned, I guess. Part of Travis’s manipulation was isolating me from all my family and friends, including Landon.”
He swallows another sip of coffee before continuing.
“After the breakup, Landon took Travis’s side.
Travis told him I pressured him into dating me, that he was never even attracted to men.
He said I made up lies about him cheating and being controlling.
” He gives a bitter laugh. “I think it was easier for Landon to believe that story than to admit his best friend’s a narcissistic asshole. ”
I squeeze his hand before he pulls back, folding his arms in his lap. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine having a falling out with Maddie, and it must be even harder, being twins.”
He nods, staring down at the table. “It was difficult seeing both of them last night. I thought I could handle it. I’m sorry for being such a mess.”
I shake my head. “I don’t blame you, Hunt. Travis was being a dick,” I mutter. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to punch him.”
A weak smile cracks on his lips. Before he can respond, Cooper returns with two plates balanced expertly on his arms. He sets the bacon omelet in front of me, then Hunter’s pancakes in front of him, the stack glistening with butter.
His fingers linger a moment on the edge of the plate as he slides it across. “Enjoy,” he says with a grin aimed directly at Hunter.
He clears his throat, offering a polite smile, but I catch the flush rising up his neck. Cooper winks again before strolling away.
Jealousy prickles hot under my skin, sharp and irrational. I know I have no claim on Hunter. He isn’t mine. But the idea of anyone else making him blush—or worse, touching him—burns through me all the same.
Hunter pours an absurd amount of syrup onto his pancakes, flooding the plate. He cuts into his stack and takes a bite. The sound he makes—a low, unguarded moan of pleasure—punches straight through my gut. My fork stalls halfway to my mouth.
“Holy shit,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut. “These are insane. Like… transcendent.”
I shift in my seat, heat coiling low in my stomach. He has no idea what those sounds do to me.
“You have to try a bite,” Hunter says, slicing off a syrup-soaked piece and holding it toward me on his fork.
I want to. God, I really want to. But I know my blood sugar is still too high. My head feels tingly, my tongue dry.
I force a laugh and shake my head. “I shouldn’t. My blood sugar’s already high from the coffee earlier. I’d pay for it all day if I did.”
His face softens. “Oh. Got it.” He pops the bite into his own mouth, still looking at me. “That sucks. But seriously, these pancakes are a religious experience.”
When Cooper drops the check, Hunter insists on paying, no matter how much I argue. He even asks for a to-go box. With careful precision, he slides a pancake inside and pushes the container across the table toward me.
“You can have it later, when your blood sugar’s back in range,” he says. “Trust me, it’s worth the wait.”
It’s such a simple gesture, but it feels so thoughtful it takes my breath away.
We push out of the diner into the late morning sun, the air sticky with the smell of frying grease clinging to my clothes. Hunter jingles his keys in his hand as we cross the cracked lot, the to-go box tucked under my arm like something precious.
Inside his car, he taps the route into the oversized touchscreen. As the highway unfurls in front of us, I rest my palm on the cool cardboard in my lap. A single pancake, saved just for me. It means more than I’ll ever admit out loud.
For a while, we don’t talk. The concrete landscape blurs into a sea of gray, the city skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror.
A familiar song starts beating through the speakers. I glance at the display showing his music streaming app. He frantically tries to change the song, smashing his thumb into the screen, but I catch his wrist.
“You added Harmony Heartz to your playlist?” I ask.
He rips his hand away, cheeks darkening. “Shut up. Don’t make fun of me. It’s catchy!”
“Aw. Did my sister convert you into a Sweetheart?”
He flicks me a confused look. “A what?”
“That’s what they call their fans. Sweetheartz.”
He groans. “I hate you sometimes.”
I tilt my head doubtfully. “No, you don’t.”
A soft smile cracks through his sulking. “Yeah, I guess you’re alright.” He drops one hand casually onto my knee, the other steady on the wheel.
I watch him start to sing under his breath, bobbing his head to the beat. Maybe the song is cheesy, maybe the lyrics are ridiculous, but right now none of that matters.
As I listen to his sweet voice fill the car, I decide that maybe this is my new favorite song.