Alissa Blake
The food on the plate was untouched, but honestly, it was hard to feel hungry when everything inside me was on high alert. It was enemy territory.
I could feel my parents' eyes on me. Evaluating. Waiting. I just didn’t know for what.
Morgan was talking nonstop about school, about her friends, and how the teachers were strict and boring. It was strange to see her so comfortable with me. She barely knew me, but she seemed… excited. And happy. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to feel about all of this.
"I saw some things about you on the internet," she suddenly commented, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
My gaze lifted instantly.
My mom adjusted the napkin on her lap, watching Morgan with a harder look.
"Your sister is very curious about your life, as you can see."
Curious. Right.
Morgan smiled at me, her eyes sparkling. "You live in Boston, right? What’s it like there?"
"Cold," I answered, taking a sip of red wine.
She laughed. "But do you like it?"
"I do."
I thought about returning the question, trying to understand what she thought of this house, this city, but before I could speak, my mom intervened: "And you? How’s your life, Alissa? It’s been so long..."
The question came off too casually. I raised an eyebrow before answering.
"I’m fine."
"Working?"
"Yes."
My dad cleared his throat. "And what exactly do you do?"
I propped my elbow on the table and tilted my head, calculating what I would say. "This feels like an interrogation."
My mom laughed, as if I were joking. "We’re just trying to understand you a little better, dear. You’ve been away for so many years…"
Dear, away... seemed like a bad joke. Interesting choice of words, considering it was they who sent me away.
I gripped my glass a little tighter, maybe it would help with the anger. "I work in music production."
I guess I did work, now that I thought about it. The answer was deliberately vague, but my mom nodded with a satisfied smile.
"So you’re in the music world too."
Too.
The subtlety was there, she hadn’t mentioned Holden yet. But I knew she was waiting for the right moment.
Morgan was the one who brought it up first:
"And you… do you know Holden Young?"
The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering against the plate with a sharp sound. I genuinely wanted to avoid answering that.
My mom cast a discreet glance at my dad before turning back to look at me. I think I gave away my nervousness.
"You met him at school, didn’t you?"
"Yes." I picked up the fork again, trying to seem indifferent.
"He seems amazing." Morgan swung her feet under the chair. "Has he ever been to your house?"
I blinked a thousand times before almost letting out a sharp scream. "What?"
"Your house in Boston!"
Right. Where did that come from?
"We haven’t been in touch since the accident, so we’re not close."
It was a half-truth; we weren’t close anymore, apparently.
Morgan furrowed her brow. "But weren’t you with him in the accident?"
And there it was. Casually, but perfectly positioned. My parents remained silent, just watching the answer I would give. Too interested.
I shrugged. "It was an unfortunate coincidence. But we haven’t spoken since then."
My mom pretended to be surprised. "Really? I thought you two were closer."
"Why?"
She smiled, cleared her throat before answering: "The press talked about an unknown woman who was with him. I thought maybe..."
I thought maybe you knew more than you should. I took a deep breath and kept my tone light, not wanting to lose control, even though they deserved it.
"There’s not much to know. It was an accident, that’s all."
My dad looked away, taking a sip of his wine. My mom kept smiling.
But I knew.
I knew they were trying to piece things together. And more than that, I knew this wasn’t about me.
They didn’t want to know about my life.
They wanted to know about Holden.
And if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up giving them exactly what they wanted. Dinner continued as if nothing had happened. But I felt the shift in the atmosphere.
They had planted the seed.
Now it was just a matter of time before they tried to reap something.
Morgan remained the only genuinely excited one. Ah, the innocence of children.
"I’d love to visit Boston someday," she said, grabbing more juice.
"One day, maybe."
"Can you take me?" I choked. I didn’t expect this level of excitement.
My mom laughed nervously, blinking more than necessary, but her gaze stayed on me. "Do you plan to go back to Boston soon?"
Here it comes. "I don’t know yet."
"Are you staying in a hotel?"
This time, my dad asked.
I shook my head. "No."
I left the answer hanging, without clarifying. My mom tilted her head, waiting for me to continue. I didn’t.
She smiled.
"Maybe it would be good for you to stay here a while."
The phrase came casually, but I knew it wasn’t. None of this could be natural.
"Why?"
"To get to know your sister better. To… get to know each other again. I promise we’ll be different, better…" Her fake smile almost made me believe it. But my memory was too good.
I should say no. In fact, I should leave right now. But something in the way she said that... She was testing my reaction.
Waiting to see if I’d bite the bait. So I thought, maybe it was time to flip the game.
I looked at her with curiosity, gave a brief smile showing interest. "I think it could be a good idea."
My mom blinked several times, clearly not expecting this response. "Really?"
"Sure." I smiled, grabbing my wine glass and filling it up a bit more, even with those judgmental looks on me. I needed some help. "I want to spend some time with Morgan."
My sister squealed excitedly. "This is going to be amazing!"
My dad kept a controlled expression, but my mom leaned back in her chair, satisfied. "Then it’s settled."
Alright.
Let’s see how far this goes.