After he’d left, I tried to convince myself that it was better this way. If Everett thought for even a second that I had any soft feelings toward Reese, he’d exploit that like the weakness it was.
He’d hurt Reese just to hurt me.
When Val was seven, he’d gotten really into sewing and made me a quilt. I loved that thing, dragged it around the manor with me everywhere.
Everett took it one day when I was with my violin instructor.
He cut it to pieces.
I’d cried for two days straight, tried to tell Evelyn what he’d done, and she told me I wasn’t thinking right. That her sweet Everett would never do something like that. She said the dog must have torn it up.
We didn’t have a dog.
I remember that being one of the first times I’d noticed her delusions. She often thought things that weren’t true and saw things that weren’t there.
Albert blamed it on the death of Everett’s twin, that it had broken something in her mind, and told me to be patient with her.
I’d confronted Everett about destroying that quilt, and he’d laughed in my face while denying it.
But his eyes never lied.
He destroyed everything I liked; stuffed animals, books, my violins. I learned not to show any kind of attachment to anything when I was around him.
I’d learned to stop caring about things. First, to stop showing I cared. And then I actually did stop caring.
Val was untouchable as our brother. Albert would have Everett’s head if he did anything to him. I was allowed to care about Val.
I was cursing myself for not having seen Reese the other day. He’d come barreling toward us out of nowhere like the ferocious little tiger cub he was. And why? To help me?
No one had ever come to my defense before. But I didn’t want him to do that. It was too dangerous—for the both of us.
I would always be the first to admit that I wasn’t very good with people, but I’d crossed a line, I’d been too harsh, and I needed to make this better.
I didn’t want him to be upset with me. I didn’t want him to be upset, period.
And how embarrassing that he had to find out about me not being able to read sheet music. I mean, there was no way he wouldn’t, but I’d hoped to explain it to him later.
I wasn’t sure why I cared so much about what he thought of me, but…I did.
I’d never cared before if people knew or not. I didn’t consider it a weakness or a flaw and it didn’t affect my ability to play. But for some reason, I’d been anxious about how he’d react. If he’d think less of me.
Who was I kidding, he already hated me, so what did it matter?
I had to straighten things out with him. I was gonna do that when class ended, but as soon as Professor Hawkins dismissed us, he picked up his stuff and raced from the room.
I followed him into the hall, keeping my eyes trained on the back of his head.
His hair looked fluffy and soft. I knew exactly how soft it was and I wanted to touch it, to slide those silky strands through my fingers, to rub my face against them.
I caught up to him halfway down the hall and bumped my arm lightly into his shoulder. “Wanna work on our project? Are you done for the day?”
“Sorry, I’m really busy today.” He picked up his pace.
“That’s alright, we can just do it another day. Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” I set my hand on his arm, and he stopped walking.
He looked up at me with wariness in his gorgeous eyes. “What’s up? I really have to go, Dakota, so if you could…” Reese’s eyes shifted to something behind me, then widened.
He looked around in a panic, his gaze landing on a door that was slightly ajar behind him. He grabbed my arm and opened it, dragging me inside and slamming it shut.
