Page 13 of Hooked

Until he decided he didn’t need me anymore because I was too much of a goody-two-shoes for his edgy new friends and their drugs.

My heart beats too quickly, and I take a minute, just breathing. My uncle stands in the doorway when I open my eyes.

“You okay, honey?” he asks.

I’ve come to terms with the loss as best I could. I thought it’d be easier as I got older, but now, nearly ten years out, I find myself looking at those terrible events through an adult lens and see all the things I did wrong. I could’ve turned Drew into the police numerous times and had him sent to rehab, but I was too afraid he’d hate me forever to go through with it.

I wish he were alive to hate me.

And of course I’d tried to talk to my uncle about him last time I was here. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I was letting Drew down again, this time by not trying harder to wrest Danny out of his self-imposed isolation. I’d thought that since we were both still grieving we could work through that pain together.

But it was wrong of me to assume that was something he wanted to share. My parents had always scolded me for my excess of feelings.

Keep it cheerful and light, Sia, or you’ll scare people away.

I hadn’t followed that advice with my uncle and had deeply regretted it ever since.

“Fine.” I force as much cheer into my voice as I can. “I’m really glad to be here, Uncle Danny.”

He hugs me, and when he lets go I see Vinny standing at the door. He’s holding a bag.

“Forgot one.”

His face is neutral. The lack of expression is kind of creepy if you ask me.

“Thanks,” I reply. “Do you mind putting it there?” I nod to the corner. His mask seems to slip for a moment when he sees the pile.

Fine then. Let him dislike me for buying some goddamn underwear. He probably just wears boxers sewn together from burlap scraps and treats the chafing like a badge of honor. Or maybe he goes commando. I watch as he leaves, wondering what’s under those jeans.

Girl, focus.

My uncle and I head downstairs to the ballroom where he’s left some boxes.

“I haven’t looked inside them.” He’s nervous. “It’s been ages, Sia. Everything in there could be moldy.”

Or it could be too painful to look at. But we don’t need to say that.

The ballroom itself is on the small side. Probably fits about one hundred people. Kieran and I suppose Vinny did a great job with the renovation, bringing the old Victorian space back to life. The wood floors are polished and glowing. Six ornate crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and intricate wainscoting runs across the walls. The bottom paneling is painted white, and the top paneling is covered in elegant bluish-gray wallpaper with a subtle floral etching done in pewter.

The difference from the dilapidated pit it was when I last saw it is incredible.

Vinny probably liked the pit better. More authentic.

“It looks so much bigger,” I say, spinning around.

“The boys took out some unnecessary beams and columns. Anything that wasn’t load bearing. It’s going to host a lot of weddings, I hope. Create some happy memories for folks. We’ll start with your party though.”

My uncle leaves me to my devices. He can’t sort through the boxes with me, and I understand. I can handle it myself. I’ve opened the first one when I feel someone looking at me.

Vinny’s there in his work clothes still. It’s hard not to tell him to take off his dirty steel toed boots. They’ll leave the floor a mess.

Still, a specimen indeed. I hate that I find him so attractive.

“How’s your roof?” I’ll kill him with kindness.

“It’s coming along. I’m waiting on some shingles. They can’t ship on the ferry until the seas calm down.”

“Probably good to wait. I’m glad my cousins aren’t coming out until Tuesday.”

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