I’m not cold anymore. I’m starting to sweat inside my jacket, and my hands are shaking. I hold my cup in both hands, trying to steady it.

“Why are you being like this?” he says. When I look back at him, he’s staring at me with complete incomprehension.

I don’t really know why I’m being like this, but I just keep going. “I have things going on that you have no clue about,” I say, vaguely aware of our friends tuning in to the argument and eyeing us nervously.

“How is that my fault?” He gestures and knocks the cocoa cup out of my hands. It splashes on my jeans.

“God —” I stop myself before I can unleash the string of curses I long to fire out. I pick up the cup. My right leg is soaked.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding stricken. “Was it hot?”

“No.” I take a napkin that someone hands me, I don’t even know who. And something about the concern being shown to me makes me crack, and I start to cry.

“Zoe?” Hunter says. He’s clearly so confused by the way I’m acting.

I’m being awful. And it hurts. “My brother’s gone,” I finally mumble.

“What?” he says, leaning closer. “What did you say?”

“Jonah.” My tears spill over. “We sent him away. To a home for disabled people.”

He stares at me, his glasses covering over with tiny drops of rain as the wind picks up. The seconds feel like hours as he processes, and I hope his response is one of kindness and not anger, not that I don’t deserve his anger. It wouldn’t be the first time I struck out at him for something that wasn’t his fault.

Finally, he shakes his head. “How did I not know any of this?”

I have no answer.

Suddenly everyone jumps up and screams. I clap my hands over my ears. I am barely functioning. I just want to leave. I wish Cammie had driven — she’d drive me home. But everyone seems to be drinking except Hunter.

When I look up, he’s typing on his phone. He turns to me, but he doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “My brothers are here. I’m gonna go sit with them.” He stands up and with a short “see you,” he’s climbing over legs and feet and making his way out.

I feel a hand on my back. I turn to find Cammie, watching me with a very worried expression. She says, “Are you okay? Is Hunter being a dick? On the day Jonah left?”

My stomach sinks. I am such a terrible person. I wish I could say yes and watch her face take on that loyal, determined, hold my purse expression, but I have to tell her the truth. “He didn’t know. I’m just being horrible.”