Broken to pieces, I watch as she gets up, throws on her sunglasses, and stumbles out of the room.
Bile churns in my stomach as the pain of what our lives have turned into crushes me. I want to run after her, get as far away from the questioning looks I know are being aimed at me from Amber’s parents—from the hate getting tossed my way from my own father.
I look at Amber, my only safe place, her expression mirroring my torment as she laces her fingers through mine. I know she gets the level of dysfunction ripping through my world, tearing it to shreds. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve felt this burning connection to her, this insatiable need to have her in my life.
We’re two different people who share one common link—our blood families are fucking nightmares.
“Don’t listen to her, Brock,” Brittany says, anger assaulting her features. “The only thing this is about is her being a drunk. You can’t blame yourself for something you had no part in.”
I can’t talk, the pain pulsing through my core so strong, it feels like it’s choking the life right outta me.
“I don’t know what the hell all of that was about,” Mark says, his words strong, unwavering, as he watches, from the corner of his eye, my father toss a couple hundred-dollar bills onto the table. “But your sister’s right, Brock. What just happened appears to have very little to do with you.”
My father tucks his wallet back into his dress pants, shaking his head at Mark’s comment but saying nothing as he looks up at the rest of us.
He’s not about to make this worse than it already is. God forbid someone he associates with is watching and the word gets out to his circle of friends.
“It was nice meeting you all,” he finally says, his face hard as stone, his tone formal, presentable. “I apologize for the way the evening turned out.” Without a single look in my direction, he pivots and breezes out of the room.
I scrub an exhausted hand over my jaw, a breath locked in my windpipe as my sister walks over to me.
Sadness digs into the planes of her face as she cups my cheeks, whispering, “I love you. Don’t let their issues turn your life upside down.” She pauses, concern, along with tears, edging her eyes. “I want you to remember something. Mom and Dad are not a reflection of you. What they think isn’t who you are as a person. I know who you really are, and you’re a smart, good young man who I’m proud to call my brother.”
She stares at me a moment before turning to Amber and her family. I see the Cunningham come out in her, the survival skill she mastered a long time ago—the ability to smooth out a situation, manipulating it to not seem as bad as it was. “I’m sorry tonight didn’t go as planned. But it was so very good to meet you all.”
“Likewise,” Cathy says, her hand on her throat, tears welling up in her eyes. It’s easy to see she’s never witnessed anything like what just went down.
Amber, on the other hand, has seen much worse than this unfold in front of her.
“Thank you for coming, Brittany,” Amber says, a sad, haunting smile touching her lips. “It was nice to meet you.”
Brit nods, her gaze remaining apologetic. “I’m sorry for what my mother said, Amber. It’s hard to control crazy. Please don’t let her comments offend you. It was the wine talking.” A shake of her head as she grimaces. “Not that that made it okay for her to say or act how she did, but it’s all I have to go on.” She casts me a look that speaks a thousand words, none of them audible, before looking back up to the group. “I’m going to head out now. Please have a safe trip home.”
Brittany grabs her purse and disappears around a corner. Once she’s out of view, I find it hard to look into anyone’s eyes, Amber’s included. I feel like a dick, shame cloaking me in a heavy, suffocating blanket.
Nobody knows what to do or say, so I suggest getting the bill. Everyone agrees, eager to break free from the filth of the last hour. Over Mark’s objection, I hand my credit card to the waiter. I know there’s money on the table—my father’s way of trying to look cool—but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let the asshole pay for jack shit.
Amber grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly, as I lead us out to my Hummer. Everyone seems preoccupied, still trying to wrap their heads around what just transpired as we all get in. It’s just as well. I can’t think of anything fucking coherent to say anyway. I’m so goddamn pissed off at my parents, so fucking hurt, but the more I think about it, I’m just as angry with myself. I knew it would come to this. I bite back a laugh as I ease onto the busy highway, realizing I’m the one who caused this shit. I should’ve stuck to what my gut was saying, insisting to Amber that it just wasn’t a good idea.
In the midst of trying to get my head outta my personal problems, I pick up on Mark telling a story about how he got Amber into fishing, and something about her being afraid of the dark—which I didn’t know. I knew my girl was scared of very few things, but the dark? She’d kick the dark’s ass.
After a few much-needed laughs, we drop Cathy and Mark off at the hotel, promising to pick them up after class tomorrow to go take them out for some crabs. Excited, they walk away, both waving as they enter the lobby.
I pull out of the parking lot and head toward my condo, my mind a Molotov cocktail of emotions as I weave in and out of traffic. Amber stays quiet, rubbing her thumb along my knuckles, letting me have my space but, at the same time, letting me know she’s here for me. If nothing else comes of this night, at least my girl sees the evil that’s created the monster I’ve turned into.