Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
I wake up feeling like I’m on a boat, rocking in the waves. At first, I think I’m dreaming of being on Lake Michigan. It takes me a few seconds to process Hunter roughly shaking my shoulder, the mattress quaking beneath me.
“Jesus, you’re a heavy sleeper,” he grumbles, voice rough with sleep. “Your phone’s been going off nonstop.”
My heart lurches before I’m even fully awake. The sound of my phone ringing on the nightstand pierces my ears, loud and insistent.
Dread squeezes my chest—Maddie. Something’s wrong.
I fumble for my phone, pulse racing. The screen lights up with a string of missed calls, but it’s not Maddie. It’s Liz.
I exhale shakily, trying to calm down. “Shit,” I mutter, swiping to answer. “Hi, Liz.”
“Mason, hey. Sorry to bug you,” she says. I can hear the background noise of Beachside Burgers—fryers hissing, voices shouting orders. “Peter called off sick. Any chance you could come in and cover?”
Guilt stabs through me. I rub my eyes, glancing at Hunter half-asleep beside me. “Sorry, I can’t today. I’m out of town.”
“That’s okay,” she says easily. “Worth a shot. Take care.”
“Wait—” I blurt before she can hang up. “Thank you, by the way. For having Maddie over with Bella this weekend.”
There’s a pause. Then Liz’s voice, tight with confusion: “What are you talking about? Maddie’s not with us.”
The blood drains from my face as I sit up in a panic. My stomach drops like a stone.
“She wasn’t with you last night?” I croak.
“No,” Liz replies quickly. “Wait, did she tell you she was with Bella?”
“I—I’ve gotta go,” I stammer, hanging up before she can say anything else.
The phone slips from my hand onto the sheets. My chest feels hollow, scraped raw. Heavy breaths puff through my burning lungs as I stare at the comforter numbly.
Hunter pushes himself up, shirtless, rubbing his tired eyes. “What happened?”
I can barely get the words out. “Maddie lied.”
He pauses. “What?”
“She said she was with Bella this weekend at a sleepover. She’s not.”
Hunter frowns, lips pressed together. “Maybe she just misspoke? Maybe she’s with another friend?”
I swallow hard. A terrifying thought creeps into my gut, and I feel like I might puke.
I shove off the bed, tugging a clean T-shirt over my head and stumbling into a pair of gray sweatpants. “We gotta go.”
Hunter looks at me, brows furrowed. “Wait, Mase—”
“Get dressed and pack your shit,” I snap, louder than intended.
He flinches at my voice, and the guilt slashes through me. He stares at me with wide eyes, like he doesn’t even recognize me. It makes my heart crack and splinter.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my bedhead of curls. “I just—we need to leave. I have to make sure she’s okay.”
Hunter nods slowly, though the wary look in his eyes lingers as he packs his bag. He slips into a pair of denim shorts and a yellow tank top. The beachglass pendant rests on his chest, reflecting in the early morning sunlight. He wore it all night, not even taking it off to sleep.
Sweat creeps down the back of my neck as we walk downstairs and step outside. I lock up the cabin, leaving the key in the dropbox. We climb in my truck, and the engine rumbles to life.
The gravel crunches beneath the tires as the cabin shrinks in the rearview mirror. The silence between us is suffocating—the kind that makes every exhale sound too loud.
Finally, Hunter speaks, quiet but firm. “Where are we going?”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Stephen’s house.”
***
Three years ago, on my eighteenth birthday, Stephen sent me a card with a return address on the envelope. I was surprised to learn he still lived in the rural outskirts of Claremont Shores.
I threw the card in the trash, but not before Googling his address. A newly constructed ranch-style home. Fresh siding. Perfect lawn. While we lived in a rotting trailer with duct-taped windows and a broken refrigerator.
At the time, the birthday card pissed me off. It felt insulting, like trying to patch a bullet wound with a Band-Aid. But now, I’m grateful for it because the return address is the only reason I know where to go.
The drive back to Claremont Shores is tense and quiet, with Hunter scrolling mindlessly on his phone, music blaring through his earbuds. Last night, it felt like we were closer than ever. Now, it feels like we’re a million miles apart.
When the GPS announces the turn, my stomach twists into a knot. Stephen’s house comes into view: wide driveway, shiny burgundy sedan in the garage, flowerbeds trimmed neat and perfect. It makes me sick.
I park at the curb and kill the engine. For a moment, I can’t move. My hands are glued to the wheel.
“Mase?” Hunter asks softly, removing an earbud.
I shake my head and push the door handle. “Stay here.”
He bites his bottom lip. “What will you say to him?”
“I’m going to ask him if he stole my sister.”
I shove the door open, but Hunter’s hand darts out and grabs my wrist. His touch is warm, desperate. “And then what? What are you gonna do if she’s here?”
I don’t look at him. If I do, I’ll hesitate and think about the consequences, and I can’t do that. I need to act.
“I said—stay.”
I wrench free and slam the door shut hard enough to rattle the side mirrors. My shoes glide over the smooth pavement as I march up the pristine walkway, every step vibrating with anger. I can feel Hunter’s eyes burning holes in my back through the windshield.
The front door is decorated with a goddamn floral wreath, like his house is showcased on one of those HGTV shows. I jab the doorbell. Once. Twice. My heart hammers with each second that drags by.
Finally, the door creaks open. Stephen stands there in a faded flannel shirt and jeans. His face drains of color the second he sees me.
“Mason,” he says, voice tight, hands twitching at his sides. “What are you doing here? You know where I live?”
I ignore him. “Is Maddie here?”
Stephen hesitates, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Now, wait, Mason—”
“Tell me,” I growl.
Before he can spin a lie, movement catches my eye. In the hallway behind him, Maddie appears. Her eyes go wide, her mouth falling open in shock when she sees me.
That’s all it takes.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. My fist flies forward and cracks against Stephen’s jaw. The impact jolts up my arm, a flash of pain shooting through me as Stephen stumbles back, clutching his face.
“Mason, stop!” Maddie gasps, rushing to our father’s side.
I barely register the sound of the truck door slamming behind me. Hunter calls my name, desperate and frantic as he runs toward me.
“What the fuck did you do?!” Hunter shouts, grabbing my shoulder to pull me away, but I shrug him off.
“Get back in the truck, Hunter.”
“No! You’re being an idiot!” His voice is sharp, almost breaking. “If you do this, you’ll ruin your chances at custody.”
I know he’s right, but I can’t see logic beyond the burning rage flashing behind my eyelids.
Stephen steadies himself, rubbing his cheek. “It’s okay. I probably deserved that,” he admits hoarsely.
“How long?” I demand, fists clenched.
Stephen swallows. “What—”
“How long have you been stealing Maddie?”
“He’s not stealing me, Mase! It was my idea!” Maddie blurts out.
My head snaps toward her. “Enough. Stop talking.” My voice comes out rough, shaking with fury I can barely hold in.
Stephen exhales, guilt settling heavy in his eyes. “She came here for the first time back in July,” he admits quietly. “She… she even has a bedroom here now.”
I surge forward, fist winding back, but Hunter clamps onto my arm and jerks me off balance. He shouts at me, desperate and urgent, but his voice sounds muffled like he’s underwater.
Stephen holds his hands up in defense. “Look—Mason, I know it’s too late to fix things between us. You have every right to hate me,” he sighs. “But if Maddie wants a relationship with me, you can’t stand in her way.”
I scowl. “Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.”
“Son—”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” I growl before turning to Maddie. “I’m taking you home.”
She glares at me. “I hate you,” she hisses.
Her words knife through me, but I don’t let it show. I drag her toward the truck while she thrashes against me, her tiny fist colliding with my abs in a series of punches. I lift her into the truck and shove her in the backseat as tears spill down her reddened cheeks.
“Mason,” Hunter says gently, trying to reach me.
“Not now,” I bite out, slamming the door.
I start the engine, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. Maddie sits in the rearview mirror with her arms crossed, her face blotchy and wet. “You’re grounded for three weeks.”
She sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Whatever.”
I start driving toward Claremont Shores on autopilot, ignoring the painful ache festering in my chest. My hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, but inside I feel hollowed out.
Hunter reaches for my thigh, trying to ground me, but I brush him off.
I can’t be touched right now. Not when everything feels like it’s caving in.
When we finally pull into the trailer park, Maddie throws the door open before I’ve even shifted into park. She bolts for the house, ignoring me when I call her name. The slam of the screen door echoes through the still air.
I’ve never felt this disconnected from her. No matter what I do, I’m still losing Maddie.
I sit there, stunned, arms folded on the steering wheel, my face pressed against them. The cab feels small, the air thick and stifling. Hunter’s hand lands on my back, tracing slow circles.
I drag in a shaky breath, throat tight, eyes burning, but I swallow the tears down before they can fall.
“That was… intense,” Hunter says quietly. “Are you okay?”
I lift my head, meeting his gaze through my fog of anger. His eyes are soft, full of concern that I don’t deserve. “No,” I admit, my voice cracking.
He hesitates. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just—” I exhale, shaking my head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I was so damn stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Mase,” he says gently. “She’s a teenager. Teenagers are sneaky.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve noticed. I should’ve been paying attention.” My hands curl tighter around the steering wheel. “Instead, I was… distracted.”
Something in his expression shifts. His hand stills on my shoulder, and when I glance at him, his eyes have gone sharp.
“Distracted?” he echoes, voice thin. “By me?”
I don’t answer right away. I can’t. The silence stretches between us, taut and unbearable. Finally, I force myself to nod, even as guilt tears through me.
The words crawl painfully up my throat, coming out in a cowardly whisper. “We need to end this, Hunter.”
His face crumples, his hands dropping to his sides. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, staring at the worn leather of the steering wheel instead of him.
He’s quiet for a moment, the only sound the faint buzz of the cicadas outside. Then, he softly begs, “Don’t do this.”
“When I’m with you,” I say, voice trembling, “I forget about everything else—all my responsibilities. You make it too easy to escape, and I can’t afford to escape right now.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “So that’s it? You’re cutting me off because I make you happy?”
“That’s not fair—”
“No, what’s not fair,” he snaps, “is you deciding this for both of us without even trying to talk it through.” His voice cracks under the anger. “You think pushing me away is going to make your life easier?”
“It’s not about easy,” I grit out. “It’s about doing what’s right.”
“For who? Because it sure as hell isn’t right for either of us. Just last night, you told me this summer was the happiest you’ve ever been.”
When I finally lift my head to meet his eyes, the sight nearly undoes me. His bottom lip trembles, his glasses fogging with tears as his cheeks burn red. Every nerve in my body urges me to comfort him and pull him against me, but I resist, my teeth clenched hard.
“We knew this was going to end eventually,” I mutter, as if that makes it hurt any less.
He shakes his head, his lips twisting into a pained snarl. “Yeah, but not like this,” he says, sniffling. “We still have ten fucking days before I go back to Shelby Harbor.”
I bite down hard, my teeth gnawing the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
He lets out a hollow breath, shaking his head. “God, you’re unbelievable.” His nostrils flare. “Fuck you, Mason.”
He reaches for the door handle.
“Wait—” I lunge to grab his wrist, but he jerks away. “At least let me drive you back,” I plead.
“No thanks.” He glares at me, sharp and cutting. “I’ll walk.”
He shoves the door open, and the night rushes in, cool and merciless. I catch it before it slams, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I really did—” My throat tightens. “I really did love our time together.”
He looks back at me, eyes wet. “But not enough to keep me,” he says quietly.
Then he’s gone, slamming the door and walking down the dark street without looking back.
Just like that, he takes the summer with him—the warmth, the sunlight, the easy laughter. All of it slips away in his shadow, leaving nothing but a chill that settles deep in my bones.