He closed the fridge door with his hip, opening the freezer next. “Of course. Can’t make them any other way.” A bag of frozen broccoli dropped onto the counter, with enough noise to make me flinch. He winced before his lips turned down into a frown. “Sorry. This is for your face. I always have some frozen broccoli.”
“Thanks.” I picked up the bag, pressing it against the swollen parts of my face. It burned against my skin, the bag sticking to my cheeks if I left it there for too long. I wondered if I should wrap it in a paper towel, but the wounds were mine to bear, so I might as well handle the consequences.
Seeing Crescent cook was weird. He’d always burned shit when we lived together, which turned into me cookingfor us if his parents didn’t have the time. I watched him until the frozen broccoli became uncomfortable enough I wanted to squirm.
Walking around his living room, I perused the bookshelf by the TV. All the books were cookbooks of some kind, a lot of them about pastries or other confectionery. He really took baking seriously.
By the wall closest near the front door, picture frames hung in a pyramid. One of him and his parents was at the top, his curly hair sitting just at his shoulders. His mom looked older. Wearier than I remembered. His dad, too. They both wore graying hair with pride, and the most refreshing smile lines. Crow’s feet dotted the sides of their eyes, creasing just right. Even in a picture, they exuded nothing but safety.
Below that picture and just to the right was a picture of Crescent, Moon, and Star, all hugging each other from the side with scowls on their faces. Despite the grimaces, they looked happy.
Smiling, I shifted the frozen broccoli to a new spot on my face and looked at the final photo. My throat closed around the guttural gasp that left my mouth. Every inch of my body froze, the chill rivaling that of the vegetables against my face. My fingers tingled, curling into a fist of their own volition.
There, displayed proudly on his wall, was a photo of us. His arm was around my shoulders, pulling me into his side while I held the painting I’d been working on for his mom in my hands. We were in art class, a bustle of students whipping by us in the background. Their faces and clothes were blurred, all of them coming together in a kaleidoscope of colors I couldn’t even name if I tried.
My eyes were so full of life then, the light in them much brighter compared to now. We looked so young, and socarefree. And in my hands, I held that painting like it was the most precious thing to me. I’d been proud. Excited.
Before Jude had ruined it, along with me.
“Oh.” Crescent’s voice was almost right behind me. I heard his footsteps as he got closer. They were slow, methodical.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo, despite how much I wanted to. I wanted to see his face—to compare it to the one in the picture and see if he really was the same. There was so much about seventeen-year-old us that I missed. Like how easy it was back then.
How easy it was to smile for pictures like that one on a whim. How easy it felt to hold that painting, proudly displaying it like it was what would take me places in the future. All painting ever ended up doing for me was causing pain.
“It’s the last photo I have of us. And the last painting I ever saw from you.” He sighed, so close I could feel the waft of warm air against the back of my neck.
I was so stunned I could barely blink. All this time, and he still kept a piece of us here? “I don’t deserve to be right next to your family, Cres.”
“I think you do.”
Shaking my head, I lowered the broccoli to my side. “We looked so happy.”
I heard him huff. A small, weighted thing that could’ve passed for a laugh. “We were. This is gonna sound stupid, but…” he trailed off, coming around to stand right beside me. “I put this one on the left because it’s the furthest from the front door. In my head, I thought… well, it’s like I wasn’t letting you go again. If you weren’t close to the door, you wouldn’t leave. I wouldn’t lose you—or this frozen memory of you.”
I glanced at the front door, then back to the picture ofus. There was nothing more to say, no matter how much I wanted to. Little whispers started back up in my chest, vibrating within me. “I loved that painting.” Barely a whisper, but much softer than the steady war inside my body.
Crescent leaned closer to me, our shoulders almost touching. “Then why did you ruin it?”
His words cut deeper than any slap Jude could give me. They sank, deep into the treacherous lake under my feet. Heavier than daisy petals, unable to be carried by the wind. “I didn’t.”
We stared at each other, lost in a realization years too late. While my face was shattered by the force of fists, and my neck was bruised by palms much too eager to hurt, Crescent’s heart had been shattered by the idea of his best friend turning into someone he didn’t recognize.
Purple and blue. Green and yellow. They’d dotted the skin underneath my clothes, and he’d never known.
“I thought it was my fault, honestly.” His gaze turned down, no longer making eye contact with me. “You just changed. It wasn’t like one day, you were a totally different person. It happened so slowly that when you finally left, it all came crashing down at once. I thought I’d done something. Caused the change. But it wasn’t you, was it?”
“No. And it wasn’t you either, Cres.”
Chapter Seven
Nine Years Ago
Elio never showedup last night. He didn’t come home at all, actually. And to top things off? He’d barely spoken a word to me today.
School without Elio talking my ear off was like infusing hellfire into my veins. It burned, and there was nothing I could do about it because he wouldn’t say anything. He showed up to school in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, with the same paint splotch from art class the day before.
I asked if he and Jude had a fight, and he said no. But the no sounded more like a yes if I had anything to say about it. I felt lost. He did this sometimes—got all quiet and weird. He got that way before he moved in with us, and it usually meant his parents had done something.Now, though? I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on.
