Page 198 of Broken Brothers

Sarah Hill”

80

THREE AND A HALF YEARS BEFORE

My freshman year had just wrapped up.

I’d returned to my house with Morgan, the two of us having very disparate receptions. Morgan had an entire house party planned for his return, complete with pizza, friends over, and everything else that would mark a Hunt celebration. I got a big hug and kiss from my Mom, a promise to treat me in private, and the cold shoulder from Edwin Hunt.

In other words, it was oh-so-typical a day in the Hunt household. The biological son got all of the attention, while the adopted son received nothing from the father and subdued attention from the mother—not that it was the mom’s fault. She just followed in the lead of her husband.

The good news, though, was that at this party, many of our mutual high school friends also showed up. The party started at about 6 p.m. on a Friday night, and in this setting, surrounded by my peers in high school, I could easily engage in conversation, forget that my adopted father pretended I didn’t exist, and have a good time. I could even have drinks; the only person I had to hide it from was my mother, as Edwin Hunt certainly didn’t give a shit.

This carried on like normal for a couple of hours. I spoke with friends like Jackson, Carlton, Tucker, and Max, catching up on their stories from their first year at Duke, Dartmouth, Georgetown, and Yale, respectively. Despite the lofty schools that we went to, it didn’t feel like we’d gone to a convention of jocks and rich kids; we were instead just a bunch of kids in their late teens, enjoying a summer off and some smuggled beer.

And then I saw her.

Sarah Hill.

I had not spoken to her in some time, perhaps in a year, not even on social media or through casual texting. I had also never forgotten her words—that someday, we’d be able to break free from the bullshit of our last names and be together again. I’d moved on and dated other girls, sure, but Sarah was always the one whom, if given the chance, I would jump to in a heartbeat.

And there she was, in a two-piece bikini, her tanned, soft body gorgeous and sexy as all hell. I couldn’t believe as a Hunt I was saying this, but I was nervous.Except you’re not a Hunt. Not in her eyes.

And that should no longer matter.

One moment defeated and the immediate next confident, I got out of the pool, my muscles much more defined over the past year from training at Columbia, and approached Sarah with confidence. She saw me approaching and smiled.

“Hi, Chance, you’re looking good,” she said, biting her lip. “What have you been up to? You’re at Columbia, right?”

“I am,” I said. “I could tell you all about it. Let’s say we go sit somewhere we can chill, though?”

I really just wanted to have her alone and away from the crowd. It was now starting to get late enough that a good tan wasn’t really possible and everyone was starting to feel the effects of the booze. I needed to both keep her away from everyone else and make it obvious.

Fortunately, Sarah was game, and for the next few minutes, we kept our conversation light and simple. I had to admit, though, concentrating on it was hard as hell. I was waiting for the perfect moment to ask her the question that had crossed my mind the second I’d seen her walk in.

And then, after she made a joke about ending her semester on a high note, I seized the opportunity.

“So, do you remember when we were middle school kids—”

“Do I have to?” Sarah said playfully.

“I know, right? But, hey, do you remember when we were middle school kids, you said there would come a day when our names wouldn’t mean anything and we could try and be together. Is that day at hand? Do you think we could have a second chance?”

Sarah’s playful demeanor immediately subsided. She let out a long sigh, stared straight ahead at the rest of the party laughing, and looked back at me.

“I think there’s always the opportunity for a second chance,” she said. “But don’t get your hopes up, Chance. I’m not saying that to be mean.”

“I know, but—”

“Chance, please don’t,” she said. “People change. Life circumstances change. Don’t assume that just because something worked once and had its obstacle removed in the future that that thing would work again.”

“OK,” I said, dragging out my response. “But that’s in general. What about us? Have you moved on from this already?”

Sarah bit her lip, but it was lot less of a seductive look than what I had seen less than fifteen minutes ago.

“Chance, I moved on like a month after we broke up,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s what people do. They move on. If you aren’t together, that’s what happens.”

“So… there’s no chance?”