THIRTY NINE

THIRTY NINE
EVE

No lie, the food’s incredible. I can’t even remember the last time a burrito hit this hard. It’s the size of my forearm, packed with baked beans, fluffy wild rice, fresh tomatoes, and guac that tastes like it was made five minutes ago.

Shame the amazing food doesn’t cancel out how painfully uncomfortable it is to sit across from Annabeth.

She can’t stop fidgeting. Barely touches her plate. Keeps opening her mouth like she wants to speak, only to think twice and shut it again.

“You’re seriously creeping me out,” I mutter, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “If you’ve got something on your mind, just spit it out already.”

“You turned out... very different,” she says, testing the waters.

“Different how?” I raise an eyebrow. “Mean? Cold?”

“No!” she blurts, waving her hands. “Not what I meant. Just... confident. Like you’ve really come into your own.”

I give her a small shrug. “Someone had to hold it together. Dad sure didn’t.”

She laughs, but it’s a weak, almost guilty sound. “Ryder told me Thomas was hospitalized. Is he okay now?”

“What, now you care?”

That came out harsh, even for me. But it’s the truth. I take a breath and dial it back. She’s trying. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to let her off the hook, but still.

“Sorry,” I add. “Yeah, he’s getting help. It’s... under control.”

“That’s good.” Her shoulders drop just a little. “Ryder also said you took your MCATs? That’s amazing, Eve.”

“You and Ryder sure talk a lot.”

I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but the jealousy seeps through anyway.

“He’s my director,” she replies calmly. “It’s only natural we talk.”

I lean back against the booth seat, arms folded. We’re tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant — not that it makes this conversation any easier.

“So why are you here, Annabeth? What do you really want?”

“To see you,” she says quietly. “Spend time with you.”

“Now?” I scoff. “You vanished after the divorce. Didn’t call. Didn’t visit. What’s so different now?”

She pauses, jaw tight, clearly weighing whether to tell me something. Eventually, she lets out a sigh.

“Do you know the name James Calder?”

That gets my attention. My back straightens, muscles tense. “Why? What do you know about him?”

“He’s been popping up all over,” I add, more to myself. “But who even is he?”

Annabeth’s lips twist in disgust. “The kind of man you never want to owe anything to.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“He’s a loan shark. Not just any loan shark — one of the worst. Dangerous, connected, greedy.”

I blink. “Okay...? What does that have to do with anything?”

She hesitates again. “Your dad... really wanted that film to happen. Years ago, before he had a name. No one would back him, no investors believed in the project.”

A knot forms in my stomach. “He borrowed from Calder?” My voice is quiet, tight.

She nods slowly. “He did.”

“But he paid him back, didn’t he?”

Her expression says it all. Her jaw locks. She doesn’t even need to answer, but she does.

“No.”

And just like that, my appetite disappears.

“He mentioned something — a debt, something he couldn’t shake,” I say, more to myself than her. “It didn’t make sense then.”

Annabeth closes her eyes, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “It was stupid. Irresponsible. But your father has always believed the rules don’t apply to him.”

I swallow hard. “So what happened when he couldn’t pay?”

Something shifts in Annabeth’s face. The warmth disappears. She looks... hollow. Like someone who’s seen things they’ll never unsee.

“Calder isn’t just some guy who lends out cash,” she says quietly. “He’s dangerous. Has people who do his dirty work—real enforcers. If he wants something collected, they show up. And they don’t always knock.”

I stiffen. “Collected, like... violently?”

“You were still at school when it happened,” she murmurs. Her voice is thin. Fragile. “Thomas was working late. I was alone at home. They barged in—no warning—demanding payment. When I told them he wasn’t there, they made it clear they’d take something else instead.”

My chest goes tight. “Other payment...?”

She hugs herself and nods, avoiding my eyes. I get it. What she’s describing is awful. Unimaginable. “They didn’t touch me,” she says, her voice cracking, “but they got close. Too close. If Ryder hadn’t turned up right then...” She breaks, covering her face with both hands. “I’m sorry, Eve. I know you’ve hated me for walking away. But after that night... I couldn’t stay.”

Something inside me crumbles. All this time, I’ve blamed her. Held on to resentment like it was my lifeline. But now I realize—I never really knew the truth. My parents worked hard to shield me, and they succeeded a little too well.

“That’s why you left?” I whisper, heart stinging.

She nods slowly. “I tried to be strong. For you. But the fear... it never left. I kept picturing them breaking in again, but this time with you home. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Thomas and I fought constantly after that. The fact that he borrowed from a man like Calder, knowing the risk—how could I stay with someone like that?” She sniffles, brushing a tear off her cheek. “Eventually, I knew it was better to walk away than let our home fall apart with you still in it.”

Grief hits me in waves—grief for what she went through, and for how wrong I got it. I’d seen her as the villain in our story. Turns out, she was just trying to survive.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words thick in my throat. “I didn’t know. I never guessed.”

She gives me a watery smile. “It’s alright. I just... I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I never meant to disappear like I did, but getting my life back on track took a lot longer than I imagined. I should’ve reached out sooner, I know that. But for a long time, I just couldn’t.”

I shake my head. “I could’ve called, too. I didn’t exactly make it easy for you.”

A pause. Then: “Do you think we can try again?” she asks. “Start from scratch, maybe spend more time together?”

I nod, slowly at first. But then something warmer stirs in my chest. A tiny flicker of relief. Like maybe... maybe this doesn’t have to hurt forever. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

She beams, tears still clinging to her lashes. “Thank you. Maybe dinner again next week? I mean, I know we see each other a lot at work but...”

“Dinner sounds lo—”

Suddenly, my stomach flips. Hard. I slap a hand over my mouth, eyes wide. The smell from the next table makes my throat lurch.

Annabeth jumps, her hand gently landing on my shoulder. “Eve? What’s going on? You look awful.”

I grab the water glass and take a long sip, trying to calm the chaos bubbling in my stomach. “I’m okay,” I mutter. “Probably just something I ate.”

“You don’t look okay.”

She barely finishes her sentence before I bolt from the booth, barely making it to the restroom before I’m hunched over a toilet, everything I ate now a memory. Annabeth rushes in right behind me, pulling my hair back, rubbing circles into my back.

“Could it be food poisoning?” she asks.

I groan and shake my head. “No. That hits slower. This is something else. Probably a virus or... I don’t know. I just need to lie down.”

“I’ll drive you home,” she says quickly.

I wipe my mouth with a paper towel and wave her off. “No, don’t. If I’m contagious, you’ll end up sick too. That’d mess with the whole filming schedule.”

She frowns, knowing I’m right. One sick lead actress is bad enough. Two sick cast members would set production back for days—and Ryder can’t afford that. None of us can.

"Only if you're sure," she says gently. "Let me cover dinner. You just focus on getting home and resting up."

“Thanks… Mom.”

She gives me a soft smile. “Always, sweetheart.”

It takes a few minutes before my stomach stops churning enough for me to stand upright. I drag myself over to the sink and rinse my mouth, the water hissing like it’s trying to drown out the thoughts racing through my head.

I don’t start connecting the dots until later—after I’ve left the restaurant and we’ve gone our separate ways. That’s when it hits me, sharp and sudden:

I never asked how Ryder showed up at just the right moment. How did he know what was happening that night?

And that tattoo of his… Why does it look exactly like the JCC emblem?

What even is JCC?

How are all these pieces fitting together—and why does it feel like someone’s hiding something?

A quiet voice rises in the back of my mind.

Ask your mother.

But deeper down, another question keeps echoing louder:

What is Ryder not telling me?