“Hold his hand.” Ocean nudges me, peeking open one eye.

Jake opens his hand, palm up on the table. I move my hand above his in a hover mode, jerking it back a fraction when one of our fingertips actually touch.

“Avery …” Ocean grits my name through her teeth. “Hold it.”

Freaking hand-holding police.

Before I can make up some excuse to leave the table during prayer, Jake grabs my hand, holding it hard like he’s pissed off about something. While my dad gives thanks for the food, his family, Deedy, and the many years we had Swarley in our lives, I completely chew Jake’s ass up one side and down the other—in my head.

Don’t hold my hand so damn hard. YOU have nothing to be upset about. I was your sex toy. Your experiment. Your punching bag. I gave you everything I had to give. I bared everything right down to my soul and my ugliest secrets. You … you stupid asshole! You gave me nothing! NOTHING! So stop holding my hand so fucking tight!

“In your name we pray, amen.”

I open my eyes and rip my hand away from Jake. He has the audacity to give me a questioning look like he has no idea why I’m acting like he has the plague.

“Hi,” he says in a soft voice, followed by a kind smile.

No. NO! NO! NO! He doesn’t get to say hi to me like some stranger. He doesn’t get to be kind with his smile. Awful words were said. Hurtful assumptions were made.

Hearts broken.

Dreams shattered.

Jake holds my attention without saying another word. I hate that he has that effect on me and the way everything and everyone else in the room disappears. The moments we shared replay in my head. We had good moments—the best moments.

“Why did it have to be you?” I whisper.

Jake’s smile fades.

The muted voices come to life.

And it’s no longer just the two of us in the room.

The moment … is over.

We are over.

“Have you arranged to get your stuff back?” Sydney asks.

I bite my lips together, laying my napkin across my lap. “Not yet. He refuses to budge on any of it until I agree to have dinner with him.”

“Dinner?” Lautner looks up from across the table. “Tell him to make reservations for four. Sydney and I will go with you.”

Chuckling, I glance over the menu. “Hmm … is this brotherly love or your way of getting me out of your house?”

“Definitely brotherly love.” He smirks. “What’s not to like about a live-in babysitter?”

Everyone laughs as I shoot him a teasing scowl. Well, I don’t think Jake’s laughing.