Chapter 1 Uninvited Guest

~Hailey's POV~

The ball hit the driveway one more time before I caught it under my arm. My hands were slick, my shirt stuck to my back, and for a second I just stood there in the fading light, staring at the hoop like it might say something back to me. It never did. It hadn't in a year.

I wiped my face with the bottom of my shirt and went inside, and that's when I smelled it, real food, the kind Mom only makes when she's trying too hard. Candles on the table. The good plates. And a man sitting in Dad's chair like he'd always belonged there.

"Mom, who is this?"

Camille spun around from the stove so fast her earring almost came off. "Hailey. You're… you're sweaty."

"Who is this?" I said again, louder.

The man stood up, buttoning his jacket like we were at some fancy restaurant instead of our kitchen. "You must be Hailey. I've heard so much…"

"I didn't ask you." I looked straight at my mom. "Mom. Today is the day. You said it'd be just us."

Her face did that thing it does when she knows she's wrong but isn't ready to admit it. "Hailey, can we talk in the kitchen for a second?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed my arm, gentle but firm, and pulled me past the stranger and through the kitchen door. The second it swung shut behind us, her voice dropped to a whisper.

"I know what today is," she said. "I haven't forgotten. But tonight matters to me too, okay? Please, just… don't embarrass me in front of him."

"Embarrass you?" My throat felt tight. "Mom, it's been a year. One year since Dad…"

"I know how long it's been." Her eyes were shining, but her jaw was set the way it gets when she's already decided something and just wants me to catch up. 

"Go take a shower. Come back down and be civil. That's all I'm asking."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to flip the dining table with all those stupid candles onto the floor. Instead I just stood there, holding my dad's basketball against my chest like it could shield me from whatever this was, and I said, "Fine," because what else was there to say?

By the time I came back down in a clean shirt, hair still damp, my throat hurt from swallowing everything I wanted to yell. I sat across from the stranger, who I now knew was named Gerald given how mom said his name in a sweet manner, making me lose interest in the food, and I didn't say a word through the entire first course.

"So, Hailey," Gerald said, cutting his chicken like it was surgery. "Your mom tells me you play basketball. That's great. I actually used to shoot around a bit myself, back in the day."

I looked at my plate.

"Hailey," Mom said, a warning wrapped in a whisper.

"That's nice," I said, flat as I could make it.

Gerald smiled anyway, the kind of smile that doesn't reach the eyes but somehow still looks convincing. "What position do you play?"

"Whatever gets me away from the bench," I said, and Mom shot me a look. Gerald just laughed, too loud, like I'd made an actual joke.

Dinner crawled by like that, him asking things, me answering in the fewest words possible, Mom filling every silence like she was terrified of what might happen if she stopped talking. I kept glancing at Dad's empty spot at the head of the table, except it wasn't empty anymore, was it. It had a stranger sitting where it should've been.

Then, right as Mom was clearing the dessert plates, she stopped and turned toward me, and I saw it before she even said anything, the way her hand was shaking a little, the way her smile was too big.

"Hailey, I have something to tell you." She held out her left hand. A ring caught the candlelight, throwing little sparks across the tablecloth. "Gerald asked me to marry him. And I said yes."

For a second I couldn't hear anything. Not the clink of her fork against the plate, not the hum of the fridge, nothing. Just my own heartbeat slamming in my ears.

"You're joking," I said.

"Hailey…"

"It's been a year, Mom." My voice cracked and I hated that it cracked. "One year. You couldn't wait? You couldn't even…"

"That's enough." Her voice snapped like a rubber band. "You are being incredibly selfish right now."

"Selfish?" I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor. "I'm selfish because I don't want some stranger sitting in Dad's chair?"

"Camille." Gerald's voice cut through, calm, careful. "Stop. Just…  stop for a second." He looked at me, and for one confusing moment his face actually looked kind. "If my dad died a year ago, I'd probably react exactly the same way. She's not being selfish. She's grieving."

The room went quiet. My mom's whole face softened, like he'd just handed her the perfect answer to a problem she didn't know how to solve. "See," she said gently, to me, like that settled everything. "See, Gerald understands."

I stared at him. Something about how easily that came out of his mouth made my skin crawl, though I couldn't actually tell why. He'd just made himself the hero of a scene where he was the actual problem, and my mom was eating it up like it was dessert.

"I need some air," I muttered, and started toward the door.

"Wait." Gerald's voice again, smooth, unbothered. "Before you go, there's one more thing we should tell you."

I stopped, my hand already on the doorframe. Something in the way he said it made the back of my neck prickle.

"We're selling the house," he said. "Camille and I talked it over. We're moving to a town called Ashton Hollow,  it's small, quiet, good schools. Fresh start for all of us." He paused, like he was building up to something he already knew would land badly. "I've actually already enrolled you at Ashton Hollow High. You start Monday."

I turned around slowly. My mom wasn't looking at me. She was looking at her ring, turning it in the candlelight like it was the only thing in the room that mattered.

"Mom." My voice came out smaller than I meant it to. "Tell me he's joking."

She finally met my eyes, and what I saw there wasn't guilt. It was something worse. Certainty.

"You can't be serious," I whispered.