It’s just never made sense. Until now.
Tessa Lockhart is what dreams—and nightmares—are made of. She’s so goddamn perfect.
Except for one thing.
She hates me.
Nah, that’s pretty perfect too. It only makes me crave her more.
Which is good—because she’s about to hate me with a vengeance.
TESSA
The best moments in life are when people shut the hell up. Everything tends to go south when they open their mouths.
Silence is my brand of sunshine. It’s a balm and a burn. Powerful and soothing.
By far the most underrated tool.
And underutilized.
“Remember to wear something nice,” my older sister’s voice pipes through my earbuds, proving my point with stark clarity. “And appropriate.”
“No worries. I have this lacy black number with purple jewels that cover myassets, which will coordinate with my amethyst Medusa and septum piercings. Is that what you had in mind?” I expel that sardonic answer while sketching a jewel-less nipple.
My real-life piercings are a source of contention, so mentioning them was simply a bonus. Both are tasteful and dainty, not that my big sister would ever assign those descriptors.
Eden huffs. She’s a delight. Well, she actually is with everyone else. “There’s no need to be rude. You’re invited, but my kids will be there. And Mom and Dad, well, you know—”
“She’s got it,” Violet cuts in since they’ve got me on speaker. “It’smyengagement brunch. It’ll be great, Tess. I trust that you’ll wear something perfect.”
That’s a subtle warning, too, but I appreciate the effort to act as though I’m not a heathen from a nudist colony.
There are three of us Lockhart girls. Violet is the youngest. We were close once, and deep down, I think the bond might still be there. But in my family’s eyes, I chose wrong. Multiple times. Not that they have any idea what kind of decisions I had in front of me. Some were impossible. Regardless, they never let me forget it. Violet finds a sense of belonging with them, so she had her own choice to make. It wasn’t me.
When we drown out all the noise of the world, we can view others through compelling transparency. Actions are like a person’s anthem, belting out their loyalty, unveiling their intentions, and declaring their ideals. Words get tripped over and twisted in life’s chaos; actions cut through it.
Eden clears her throat, raring for a fight, which means it’s about time to saturate myself in that coveted silence by hanging up.
The soft padding of footfalls and the click of a door precede Violet’s hushed voice. She must’ve stolen the phone. “Sorry about that, Tess. It’s just …” She trails off, but I don’t fill the space for her. The stillness is good.
Maybe she’ll let me in again. Sometimes, I think she’s barreling toward this wedding so she can preoccupy herself with something my parents will categorize as the right path. I guess I’ve been guilty of that before too. And while it didn’t pan out for me, I hope she finds peace. The thing is, my family might judgeme, but I’ve learned that even when we’re traveling theright path, life has a way of booting us off track.
An unwelcome flashback of the night that changed everything in my life pummels me.
I’m not sure what possessed me to rent a place downtown. It’s charming in theory and mayhem in reality. Especially this week. I’m getting too old for this shit.
Blocking out the raucous din of the idiotic Mardi Gras crowd, along with the clanks of bottles, the blares of horns, and the prowling saxophone, I listen.
To the moon bathing the house in haunted vows and the porch gate a tad off its hinges and the whimpers of truth emanating from inside.
The back door won’t rat me out, so I sneak in that way and trek through the kitchen to the tune of more bleats and cries and obscene beastly growls.
The amber light shudders, and I make a mental list.
Melted ice cream. Unraveled yarn. A crooked picture. Broken glass. Never-ending movie credits.
And my silent boots.
