Page 100 of Even After Sunset

She has tears in her eyes now, and they’re spilling down her flushed cheeks. And it’s like a knife to my gut, realizing thatIput those tears there. But I don’t know what to tell her. I literally have no idea what to say. Especially since what I want to ask her is if she got rid of that bottle of rye.

And I know that is definitely not the right thing to say.

“You need to get help,” she says, more calmly this time.

I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the edge of the table.

“I don’t need help. I’ll stop drinking, if it’s that important to you.”

“This isn’t about me… And anyway, you’ve said that before.”

Now I’m the one who rolls my eyes.

“How can you say this isn’t about you? You’re the one who’s upset! And who went looking through my personal stuff!”

“Because I’mworriedabout you!” she yells.

“Great. So now we’re back to this. Back to you trying to fix me.”

“And you’re back to getting defensive as soon as someone shows any signs of caring about you.”

I shake my head. “You are such a hypocrite… Two minutes ago I tried pointing out that you’re basing your entire life goals on some kind of… on your guilt and your need to prove yourself and trying to be the person you think other people want you to be—and you lost your shit on me! So yeah, you want to talk defensive? Then maybe take a look at your own issues instead of harping on about mine.”

Her jaw drops and she actually flinches, like I just slapped her. And then her eyes narrow.

“Stop trying to twist my relationship with Richard and Meryl into something that it isn’t. I know you're hurt about the fact that I ended up in a loving family and you didn’t. And that I have an opportunity to go after my dreams. And I get that. But you need to stop trying to put down my dreams and go after your own.”

“Oh, give me a break. You don’t evenlikebaking!” I scream. “And guess what? You suck at it!”

I don’t wait to see her reaction. I push past her, grabbing my backpack by the couch. The one she took the liberty of rifling through behind my back.

The one I’m praying to God still holds those four beer cans and almost full bottle of rye.

In three quick strides, I’m at the door and down the steps. I let it slam shut behind me and head straight for the festival gates. I need to get away. I need a break from being judged and fixed and made to feel like I’m some sort of colossal disappointment.

I need a drink.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jackie

Ididn’t think Silas could hurt me more than he did those first couple of weeks.

I was wrong.

He knows this baking business is my dream, and he used the fact that I’ve had a few mishaps to hit me where he knew it would hurt the most.

The comments about me wanting to please Meryl, I can forgive him for: he hasn’t had a positive relationship with a caregiver—or any adult, for that matter—since his parents died, so he can’t understand wanting to make someone proud.

But trying to belittle a goal I’ve had for over five years, after I’ve repeatedly told him how important it is to me—that is justmean. And I know he did it to deflect the focus off himself, but it doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

And it worked. It’s all I can think about now. I get a clean spoon out of the cutlery drawer and scoop out a decent size of the batter to taste.

He’s right: it’s bland. I forgot the salt. Possibly the vanilla, too.

But I will not let him make me doubt myself about my baking skills. I may not be the best yet, but I’m working on it. I will get there. I’ve learned from the best.

I measure out the salt and add it to the batter, then do the same with the vanilla. After stirring it, I start spooning small amounts onto cookie sheets again.

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