Page 44 of The Games We Play

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, actually.” My body stutters at his words as I open the can, but I don’t let him see it. He’s using that serious tone of his that usually leads nowhere good. “I’ve kind of been seeing somebody.”

Internally I relax. Normally, these conversations go a totally different way. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s—”

“Who’s ready to eat?” his dad asks, cutting Ryan off. The aroma of the perfectly seasoned steak fills the kitchen and I glance at Ryan, who subtly shakes his head.

“The beans are a few minutes from warm.” I smile at Mr. Collins. “We had a mishap.”

He chuckles and sets the pan of steak on the counter. “Maybe Tess can teach you a few things, Ryan. Domesticate you a little.”

Ryan snorts and glances at me out of the corner of your eye. I give a forced laugh. A heaviness settles in the air and I stir the beans to keep my hands from fidgeting.

“Okay, then,” Mr. Collins claps his hands together. “Let’s eat, then we can sit around the fire out back. Make smores?”

“Really dad? We’re not kids anymore.” Mr. Collins’ gaze drops at Ryan’s words.

What is with him?I’d give anything if my dad wanted to sit around with me and just…exist.

I give him a you-can’t-be-serious-look, and glance over at Mr. Collins.

“I’d love that,” I say, and Ryan rolls his eyes in my periphery.

When he started college and his dad took this new job, things between them became…strained. But it’s clear Mr. Collins is trying while he is here, so why can’t Ryan?

Suddenly Mr. Collins’ phone rings and Ryan stiffens.

“Uh, excuse me,” he says, while digging out his phone. His shoulders tense and he glances between us. “Start without me. I’ll be right there.”

He disappears onto the back deck and Ryan waves his hand out as if to prove his point. I sigh and pull the beans from the burner, and Ryan helps me set the table. As the plates clatter onto the table, he says, “Happy Thanksgiving to us.”

Twenty-Four - Tess

Dinner was quiet andonce the football talk was over, there wasn’t much left to discuss.

Laying the dish towel over the edge of the sink, I finish washing the dishes. Through the window, the moon reflects off the calm lake and I debate a midnight walk down the dock.

Has X found out I’m not home yet? I can’t fathom the kind of trouble I’ll be in when I get back. I smirk and glance down before raising my gaze.

My breath gets caught in my throat and I grip the vanity. Through the window staring at me are neon blue X’s.

He found me. But after the stunt he pulled at Haunted Nights, I put nothing past him. Meanwhile, do I just wait around every night to see if I’m worth visiting?

Is there more to this? Or is this the way it’ll always be?

I kiss my lips together and wave a hand at him, then stride through the house back to the fire pit.

No wonder it’s so quiet—Ryan and his dad are gone.

I get the sense of someone standing behind me and I spin, my hand pressing firmly over my mouth to keep me from screaming.

“Jumpy,” Ryan teases. He’s wearing swimming trunks and has a towel tossed over his shoulder.

“You scared me.” I push my hair out of my face. “Why are you being so hard on your dad?” My voice is harsher than I planned, but I’m tired of pretending the way he is acting is okay.

“I’m not. But smore’s? We’re adults who like to drink and party. Not sit around a fire with their old man and roast marshmallows. And there’s a hot-tub outside—”

“I would,” I say, cutting him off.

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