And the worst part? They’re right.
“Maybe? I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I told her she could talk to you, and Imayhave said you could relate to the PTSD stuff.” Axel sounds sheepish.
“Dammit, Axel. Why would you tell her that?” Johnny sounds mad.
“She looked traumatized, okay? I couldn’t stand seeing that empty look in her eyes. She reminded me ofyou.” Axel’s whisper-yell carries.
“Fine,” Johnny relents. “If she comes to me, I’ll talk to her. Don’t go spreading my shit to anyone else.”
“As if you even have to say that,” Axel scoffs. “YouknowI don’t talk about your personal stuff.”
“You talked about it withher.”
Another pause.
“That’s different.”
“How do you figure?”
“She’s… family.”
“Family, huh?”
I hear the doubt in Johnny’s voice, but their conversation fades after that. I ease away from the door, grab my makeup remover wipes, and retreat to my room.
The image reflected in my mirror is a mess. Cheeks hollow. Hair flat. Eyes dead.
Great.That’s the girl everyone saw fall apart today.
As I wipe my face clean, irritation starts to simmer. Axel had no right to tell Johnny. I know he meant well, but that doesn’t make it okay.
And God. What if he told Ben or Maryanne?
If he did, it’s too late now.
With my smeared makeup removed, I look marginally better. Unable to ignore my growling stomach any longer, I fluff my curls, then step into the hall.
“Hey.”
I jump. My hand flies to my chest.
My head whips to the side to find Johnny leaning against the wall by my door, his arms crossed casually.
“Jesus, Johnny!” I exhale. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone is calm. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Yeah?” I play dumb. “About what?”
“About what happened at school today. Axel filled me in.”
“Ugh. Of course he did.” I groan and cross my arms. “There’s nothing to talk about. I have it handled.”
“Do you, though?”
His hazel eyes meet mine, knowing. Like he sees too much.
The hairs on my arms rise.
