“Why don’t you?” I asked.

She scrunched her nose. “Because I’m twenty-eight, and that would be silly.”

“The only thing silly about that is denying yourself something so simple that could bring you even a flicker of joy.”

She looked down at her steaming coffee. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that,” she whispered.

Damn, she was beautiful. Hair a mess from the hike. Cheeks still stained red.

“What’s your favorite memory?” she asked.

Shit. Me again.

“Probably days after school spent at the skate park with Harrison,” I told her. Skateboarding had been the first thing to make me feel alive, and getting out of my weird, tension-filled house was always a relief.

“You’ve mentioned Harrison a few times. Are you close?” she asked.

“He’s like a brother to me,” I said, feeling a small spasm in my chest.

Her brows drew together. “More like a brother than your actual brother?”

I ran a hand down my face. “Um, well, yeah. Nathan and I weren’t the closest growing up. We’re better now—a lot better, actually. But growing up, it was strained.”

“Competitive?” she asked.

If the competition involved separating a family down the middle. “Um, you could say that,” I said.

She carefully chewed a piece of bacon.

Despite my attempts to relax, I realized my body was taut. I forced my shoulders away from my ears, not wanting Frankie to see how uncomfortable I was discussing my family.

“Well, what’s your favorite memory with your family then?” she asked slowly, as if I might spring from the table.

The simple question sank right into my gut like a lead anchor.

The thing was, a lot of memories came to mind. The diner my mom would take us to every Sunday for lunch. Watching every new season of Survivor and picking our favorite to win it all. When she’d sneak us away to go to a thrift store any time my dad was home and in a shitty mood—which was often.

But now those memories were tainted. Because instead of seeing any good times, all I could think about was Nathan. How left out he must have felt. I’d never realized it at the time. He’d always come across as so cold to me. But now it was so obvious in my memories how alone and alienated he must have felt. It was like getting punched in the face with it. How he’d become more quiet and withdrawn as he got older. And it was my fucking fault for not trying harder.

If there was one person I blamed more than myself, it was her. He was her son, for Christ’s sake. She should have known better.

I forced out a long breath. “Next question,” I said.

She opened her mouth to protest, but I kept going.

“What’s your greatest ambition?” I meant it as a joke, but my tone came out a little sneering, likely because of all the thoughts coursing through my mind.

Seeing the way Frankie’s face immediately fell made me feel like a fucking idiot. Greatest ambition? What the hell was I thinking? She’d just lost her job. One which was clearly very important to her. Of course, an insensitive question like that was going to hit her right in the chest.