know that he heard me anyway when a fiery shade of red creeps along his neck. “Do not lie to me.”
“Nothing! Just some stupid purse—”
“You suddenly drop ten grand on a purse when you wouldn’t even look outside of a Goodwill for furniture for your own apartment?” He shakes his head, his eyes flashing. “Did Dad also tell you that he got a call from Karen Winacott?”
“W-Who?” I shrug again, but even I can admit that the motion is too fast. Too jerky.
With a sigh, Branden sits back against the wall of the booth, but the look in his eyes is anything but placated. “Someone from back home. You probably don’t even remember her.” His tone straddles the dangerous line between sarcasm and neutrality. I can’t tell which reaction is real.
“So, where is this bag that you just had to have?” he asks, switching the subject. “Don’t tell me that’s it.” He nods to the knitted bag resting on the seat beside me.
“I…” My throat contracts around a hard swallow. “I didn’t bring it.”
“Maybe because this money you suddenly needed…” He forms a steeple with his fingers and places his chin on the very tip. “Does it have anything to do with Mr. Zhang’s ‘problems’ down at the Paper Crane?”
“H-Here you are!” Faith returns to set a jug of ice water down between us, but when she tries to fill my glass, she misses, and water sloshes onto the table instead.
“Dammit,” Branden hisses as he snatches up a wad of napkins. “Just leave it. Fuck—”
“Sorry!” Faith squeaks before darting away, her face beet red.
“Bran, it’s fine.” I grab the pitcher myself and fill my glass. “You don’t have to yell.”
“Then answer my damn question,” he counters, fixing the brunt of his wrath on me. His eyes blaze, and in slow motion, I see my fingers rip away from the pitcher. It falls over again, spilling water as fire lances through my arm. It’s only when I try to reflectively draw it toward me that I realize why. He has my forearm in his grasp, the knuckles white. Bruising. “Zhang’s bookstore got vandalized. Is that why you suddenly needed a couple of thousand?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insist, my voice high-pitched. Broken. “Please—”
“Hannah…” His eyes narrow, his grip tightening. “Don’t lie to me. Liam was the one called out to Zhang’s little accident. You didn’t tell me. Why?”
I can’t hide the surprise that crosses my face. “I…I…”
“You tell me everything. Unless someone got inside of your head. Like Karen fucking Winacott, running her goddamn mouth. Did you speak to her?” His voice is so cold, hushed so that no one nearby turns to stare. He’s so good at this. From the outside, even his grip on me could pass for helpful. Supportive.
Not hurting. Numb, I stare down at my wrist, watching as my fingers flex over the table’s surface. “You’re hurting me.”
He flinches, then tightens his grip… Then all at once, he lets me go, sitting back against his side of the booth. “I’m the only one looking out for you, Hannah. Do you have any fucking idea what I’ve done for you? Do you?”
I have an idea.
Terrorized me.
Followed me to another state.
Controlled.
Manipulated.
Always, always, always…
“I’ll tell you. I looked out for you when Mom was too drunk to give a shit. When Dad was off fucking his secretary rather than caring for you. When everyone else bullied you and pitied you. I was there. I always defended you.”
“You did,” I admit hoarsely. But whenever I look back on those memories now, they don’t feel so heartwarming or so valiant. “And you were tough, right?” I say. “Like when you pushed me down the stairs because I accidentally broke your skateboard that one time.”
He rolls his eyes. “That was ages ago, Hannah.”
“You broke my wrist,” I say, eyeing the limb in question. “And when I tried to fit in. When I tried to stop being bullied for always being alone, you made me cut my hair. You started a rumor that I had lice. You told me that no one thought I was pretty. That’s why I had to let you tell me how to dress. How to do my hair. How to act. Why you watched me shower—”
“What the fuck are you saying?” He slams his hands over the table, leaning across it. “Do you think this shit is funny?”
“You even made friends for me, right?” I blurt out, unable to stop. “Like Lexi? Pretty Lexi, who looked