Julian looked at me over Adrian’s shoulders. Finally, he left.
I let a few moments pass as Adrian stood silent and still. “Adrian?”
He didn’t turn around. “Do not talk to me right now,” he murmured, voice was shaking with rage.
I took a step back like I’d just been slapped.
“Damn it, Caitlin; stop feeling that!” He whirled toward me, eyes blazing silver. “This isn’t about you.”
“I didn’t say it was,” I replied, blinking back sudden tears. “I didn’t say anything at all.”
Adrian glared at me a moment longer, then leaned forward with his arms against the table, head bowed. Lucian hugged me, his face pressed into my waist. We stood there like that for an entire long, silent minute. Finally, he stood up, refusing to face me, eyes normal and gray again. “Come on; I’m taking you home.”
I didn’t move. “Adrian, please talk to me.”
He headed for the door. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“What just happened?” I asked, trying to sound resolute although I was terrified. I’d never seen him angry before, and it reminded me how very not human he was.
He leaned his forehead against the door and breathed. “Just Julian being an ass, as usual.”
It was a vague answer, but it was an answer. I wasn’t going to push him. “Okay.”
I walked up to Adrian and stood there. He turned slowly to face me. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and brought his hand up like he was going to brush his fingers through my hair, but thought better of it and lowered his hand. He blinked and repeated his apology. “I’m sorry. If you can, just forget what you saw. It’s not important.”
I searched his face, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze for more than a moment.
“Adrian,” I began, but didn’t know how to finish.
He looked agonized for a moment. “You feel…” He seemed to search for the right word, but couldn’t find it. He closed his eyes. “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. “Nothing. I mean nothing. Come on, I should get you home.”
He reached for the door and I reached for his arm, stopping him. “Will you tell me someday? What this is about?”
He finally met my gaze. “Maybe. One day.”
I nodded, and let go of his arm.
Adrian turned back to his little brother. “Frankie, why don’t you stay here this time?”
Lucian looked sad, but didn’t protest.
We drove back in silence, without even the sound of the radio to distract me from the weird stress emanating from Adrian. When we reached my house, he parked and leaned back, closing his eyes.
I turned in his direction, careful not to touch him. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused any tension between you and Julian.”
“Caitlin, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” he replied without moving a muscle.
“In that case,” I continued, “I apologize on behalf of life.” He opened his eyes and peered at me strangely. “For dealing you cards from a completely different game than the rest of us,” I clarified. “It’s kind of impossible to win that way.”
It was a weird way to put it, but he seemed to get what I was trying to say. I opened my door, but he stopped me before I could actually get out of the truck.
“What time do you want me to pick you up for Trish’s party?”
I tried to plaster a happy smile over the unease I felt. “How about nine?” I suggested. “I think the party starts sometime after that.”
He nodded. I closed my door. Once he pulled away and I was back inside, all I could think was, What the hell just happened?
15
FIVE MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT
“Please be careful,” Rachel said for the hundredth time that evening. She was determined to dress me up for the party, so I was currently sitting on the toilet seat waiting for her to finish curling my hair.
“I will,” I promised her. Again.
She began curling another piece distractedly. “I know it’s just Stony Creek, but people still drink on New Year’s Eve and the roads are very slick.”
“I promise we will not be drinking tonight.”
She bit her lip, looking very mom-ish and concerned as she fussed with my hair. “I know, but other people might be.”
“Adrian’s a very careful driver,” I reassured her. “If someone looks like they’re driving all crazy, he’ll pull over.”
I felt like I should be annoyed, but I kind of liked that she was worried about me.
Rachel released my hair from the curling iron and picked up another strand. “You and Adrian seem to be pretty happy with each other.” It was more of a question than a statement.
I shrugged. “Yeah. We are.” Just not in the same way most couples were, since we were not, in fact, a couple.
Rachel tested the strand of hair with her finger and decided it wasn’t quite hot enough yet. “So how serious are you two?”
I frowned. “We’re not about to get engaged, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, I mean more … are you two … together?”