But I don’t have the bandwidth to explain how I’m feeling right now. I don’t want to cause a scene, and Mom would absolutely take the match I’d be giving her and douse it with kerosene before lighting up the entire hotel. I already feel like I’ve somehow set myself on fire just by being here with him.

Jack and Rae wait for me to say something.

Then Rae answers for me. “Chase doesn’t want to go on the waterslides with me.”

Mom can read between the lines, because she looks at me with pity in her eyes. She knows how Dad can be, but she also knows not to call it out in front of my friends. “Oh, well, you know how I feel about water parks. Half of it is urine. Let’s just enjoy Taylor’s birthday,” she says.

“God, I hate him,” I say.

Jack says nothing.

We make it through most of the party, not speaking.

Jack talks to Mom, Dad, even Taylor and her friends, who fawn over him and drag him into the water, which is adorable because he indulges their drool-laden stares (can’t really blame them, to be fair). But not to me. He won’t even look at me. Luckily, I have Rae, but she leaves after we sing “Happy Birthday” and eat cake so she can spend time with her own family.

So now I have no choice but to push through alone since Jack is no help. I hate that his family life is so supposedly perfect that he can judge mine.

At some point, Mom ushers the girls upstairs to the suite, mouthing, “Help me!” as Dad’s new girlfriend, Krissy, pulls up the rear. It’s so obviously fake when they try to get along, but we all tell ourselves it’s for Taylor’s sake. Still, I don’t have to fake it if Krissy doesn’t see me, so I duck out of sight.

I find Jack—body still dewy from the water—with a towel draped around his shoulders, talking to Dad. Again.

As I debate whether or not to approach, Dad sees me and waves me over.

“Jack here was just telling me about his family’s farm in Vermont,” Dad says in a tone that says, “You better watch what you say, but I’m trying to make nice.”

I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less than be near Dad. But I have to make the best out of it so that maybe Jack will talk to me again.

“You didn’t tell me that his father is the Reid of Reid’s Whiskey.”

I didn’t know. Not that I pay attention to whiskey since I can’t even legally drink.

“I can’t believe you know it,” Jack says. “I thought it was an indie Vermont thing.”