Page 70 of My Return to the Walter Boys
As the rest of the Walters offered him congratulations, I let out a small breath of relief. For the past week, I’d been on pins and needles expecting some kind of retaliation from Cole as a result of our breakup, but so far, there had been nothing. When he cleared his throat two minutes earlier, I’d thought this was it.
The rest of dinner was a lively affair as Cole’s family fed off his excitement. It had been a while since I felt like an outsider sitting at their table, but as I watched everyone share stories and laugh together, I receded into myself with a bittersweet smile. I was genuinely happy for Cole; although it was over between us, I only wanted the best for him. But at the same time, I didn’t think Cole would appreciate me joining in on the celebration. This felt like a moment for family, so while everyone was listening to Jack tell a joke about aliens kidnapping Elvis Presley, I slipped away without anyone noticing.
***
If “Name the worst holiday to break up with someone” was aFamily Feudquestion, Halloween probably wouldn’t come to mind. Valentine’s Day, New Year’s, and Christmas would be front-runners, along with birthdays and anniversaries. But as I wandered through Chase Kennedy’s party dressed as one half of Bonnie and Clyde, I realized October 31 wasn’t a fun day to be recently single.
After ending things with Cole, I didn’t bother finding a different costume since I wasn’t allowed to attend the party. It never crossed mymind that I’d be released from my punishment after only three weeks. However, Katherine informed me this morning that I wasn’t grounded anymore, which left me with zero time to come up with a new outfit.
I told myself it didn’t matter, that tonight would be a blast no matter what I wore. Spending time with my friends would help me forget how miserable I’d been since Cole’s and my split. There were so many emotions churning in my mind—guilt, frustration, relief, dread—that I found it difficult to focus in school. I’d even had another nightmare about losing the Walters in an accident like my family’s.
Worse, Cole was acting…strange. When I told him I wanted to be friends back in September, he’d responded with spite. While the cold shoulder he gave me was annoying, at least I knew he felt something toward me. But now? Cole was being perfectly polite. He offered me smiles when we passed each other in the hall and greeted me in the morning at breakfast but otherwise couldn’t be bothered. It was like I’d never been more to him than the random girl forced to move into his house. The last thing I wanted was for him to hurt, but it was startling and more than a bit painful to see how unaffected he seemed.
Chase’s party was impressive—the entire Victorian-style house was decked out like a haunted mansion—but it wasn’t the distraction I had hoped it would be. Even though all my friends were excited to see me, everyone was coupled up, which made me feel like a third wheel, especially when I didn’t have a partner for beer pong. The constant questions were exhausting too. Those in the know wanted detailsabout the breakup. Everyone else just wanted to know where Cole was. By the third “Hey, where’s your boyfriend at?” I was done.
Returning to the ranch, taking off this stupid costume, and watching a movie would be a much better way to spend the rest of my night, but I didn’t want to be a buzzkill, so I decided to wait for the party to end out in the truck. Maybe Alex had left one of his books in the back seat. If not, I could always take a nap.
When I stepped outside and found Isaac smoking on the pumpkin-lined steps of the porch, my eyebrows shot up. Although he got off easy for pulling the fire alarm at homecoming, Katherine and George were far from willing to let him off the hook. They had him on house arrest for the foreseeable future, so there was no way he was allowed to be here. He tensed when I sat beside him but didn’t say anything.
“Too cool to dress up for Halloween?” I teased as I brushed a hand down my skirt, smoothing out the fabric. His entire outfit was black, from his T-shirt down to his boots. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but moody delinquent doesn’t count as a costume.”
“Who said I didn’t dress up?” he replied, not bothering to look at me as he lifted the cigarette to his lips.
“What are you supposed to be, then?” I asked. “Wait, no. Let me guess… Are you a stagehand? No, that’s not right. Professional mourner? How about an off-brand grim reaper who lost his scythe?”
Isaac turned and exhaled into my face. “Lung cancer.”
“Charming,” I said, wrinkling my nose as I waved the smoke away.
“At least I’m not missing half my costume.” He eyed me up anddown. “What happened to your partner in crime, Bonnie? Lose him in a shoot-out on the way over? Must be heartbreaking for you.”
The smile faded from my face. “Wow, okay. You don’t have to be such an asshole. I was just giving you a hard time.”
“Come on, Jackie,” he said, nudging me in the side with his elbow. “You should know from experience that it’s a reflex for me.”
It didn’t used to be, I thought. Pre-summer Isaac always had an inappropriate comment at the ready, but he wasn’t caustic.
“By the way, if you’re looking for a replacement boyfriend, I can submit my mug shot as part of my résumé,” he added. “I hear moody delinquent bad boys are all the rage.”
I sighed. “Why are you here, Isaac? Katherine’s going to kill you if she realizes you left the house.”
His expression soured. “I don’t know. Why’d you screw things up with Cole?”
“All right,” I said, slapping my thighs and standing. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit tonight.”
“Wait, don’t go!” He quickly stubbed his cigarette out on the steps and lurched to his feet. “That was harsh. I’m sorry. Everyone’s been at me about homecoming, and I just—look, can we not talk about the serious stuff? I’m sick of it.”
Music from the party amplified as the front door opened and two drunk girls dressed as Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy stumbled out.
“Huh,” I said, cocking my head as I turned back to Isaac. “I didn’t realize Halloween costumes were such a serious matter for you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hungry. If you don’t want me to reach peak douchebaggery, then I’m gonna need some food.” He threw an arm over my shoulder and steered me toward the sidewalk. “There’s a diner up the block. I’ll pay.”
“Thanks,” I said, shrugging off his arm, “but I ate before the party.”
“Of course you did. You’re the responsible type,” he replied. “But something tells me you’re not in a festive mood, so let’s get outta here. This place makes the best French silk pie, and pie fixes everything.”
Well, he had me there, so I sighed and gestured for him to lead the way.
