Claire's POV:He looked up, his eyes now swimming. "Why are you so mean?!" he yelled, the tears breaking free. "Just stop asking!"He was crying now, huge, gulping sobs, as if *I* had inflicted some great wound. The evening wind picked up, chilling the tears on my own cheeks. The old, exhausting impulse to explain, to justify myself, rose and then died. I'd done that dance for years with Nathan. It led nowhere."I'll call Hannah," I said flatly.This seemed to shock him more than my scolding. The tears stopped for a stunned second. Where was the frantic comfort? The desperate hugging and pleading for forgiveness?"You… you…" he sputtered, enraged. He shoved me, a weak, childish push. "I hate you!" He turned to flee."Ben, no!" Instinct overrode caution. I caught his arm. "You don't have to like me right now. But it's dark, and there's traffic. You're staying put until Hannah arrives."He struggled, betrayed. This wasn't the script. "You just want Dad to come! Aunt Isabella said you'd
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