She was too smart. Too perceptive. And she cared about me too much. I knew I couldn’t hide what I was going through from her for long.
I couldn’t stand to have all this shit come down on her, though.
I wasn’t sure I could bear to even tell her why I hated my birthday. To tell her what I’d done to Gabe.
I didn’t know if I could find the words without triggering a panic attack.
I was still drowning in the guilt of it, five years later. Barely keeping my head above water.
Take that and get some sleep.
I’ll wake you up in time for dinner.
Chapter Twenty-One
Taylor
Way Down We Go
“Surprise!”
I hopped to my feet as Cary stepped out the back of his house. I knew he was coming, because he texted to let me know he was on his way home. Plus, I had his laptop with me, open to the security cam feed, so I saw Liam’s car pull through the gate.
Same way I saw his mom and dad out there half an hour ago, ringing the buzzer.
They were standing next to me on the poolside patio now, as Cary walked slowly up the path toward us.
“Happy birthday,” I added softly, when he looked not only unhappy but… completely shellshocked. It was a look I’d never quite seen on his face before.
Which was my first clue that something was deeply wrong here.
He stopped at the edge of the patio and blinked at the three of us. Me, his mom, his dad. Then his gaze swept over the little patio tables that I’d arranged by the lounge chairs with food, and the bar cart I’d rolled over. His parents were sipping wine that I’d poured for them.
There were gift bags on one of the tables, too, and Cary stared at them.
“Happy birthday, son,” his dad said, his voice tight and uncomfortable. Not at all as friendly as it had been when he spoke to me, a person he’d just met.
What the hell was going on?
Cary looked at his dad like he’d spoken some foreign language that not only confused him but offended him. I didn’t know why, but I knew this wasn’t good.
I had to admit, Cary’s parents had taken me by surprise. Not only by showing up unexpectedly on his birthday, but by how they seemed, in general. Mr. Clarke looked vaguely like Cary and Courteney; once blond, probably, his hair was now whitish, and he was about six feet tall like Cary. But unlike his children, he was very stiff and proper. Mrs. Clarke was even more of a question mark. With dark, curly hair that was obviously colored and too much makeup, she was strangely awkward when she moved, when she spoke. She gave off a very nervous vibe that was… unnerving.
She also seemed heavily medicated.
I’d tried to be welcoming, but I’d definitely felt uncomfortable hanging out with them for the last half-hour, making small talk and answering Mrs. Clarke’s awkward, slurring questions. The discomfort was only increasing, a thousandfold, as Cary and his dad stared each other down.
Cary still hadn’t said anything, to any of us.
Mr. Clarke’s already stiff jaw hardened into jagged iron. He set his drink down on a table very purposefully.
Mrs. Clarke took a small step toward her son, then stopped, leaving a wide berth between them. “Hello, dear.”
Cary looked at her but said nothing.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I said gently, trying to project Do you mind? I can’t tell what’s going on. Cary’s eyes met mine. “I ordered dinner for us, and there’s plenty to share.” I pointed at the food spread, and he looked at it. I’d gotten a bunch of his favorites. I even had “Paint It Black” playing for him—the cover version by Gob, a local punk rock band, which maybe I hoped would impress him or something.
He said nothing.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” his dad demanded.
“He’s been working so hard,” his mom said, to his dad, like Cary wasn’t even standing there. “Let’s just give him some space.” Then she turned her back to Cary and sipped her wine.
When Cary’s eyes met mine again, it looked like all the color had drained from his face.
Then his fingers started moving. The left ones, tapping against his thigh.
Shit. Obviously, letting his parents in, unannounced, and blindsiding him like this was a bad, bad idea. I didn’t know, though. It was his parents. They dropped by on his birthday. What was I supposed to do,