Her brows pinched. “Dare, come on. You’ve been wound up for days, weeks. You think I don’t notice?”
I forced a laugh that sounded nothing like me. “You notice too much.” I grabbed the throw pillow beside me, pressing it against my stomach. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
But the word cracked in my mouth. And from the way she looked at me, I knew she heard it too.
Lauren tilted her head, studying me the way she did her chemistry homework, hoping that if she stared long enough, she’d figure out the right formula.
“Fine doesn’t look like slamming your glass on the table or driving around in circles for an hour,” she said quietly.
I swallowed hard, jaw flexing. “You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it,” she pushed, her hand still warm on my knee. Not flirting, not angling for anything—just there. Patient.
I should’ve brushed her off. I should’ve made a joke, switched the movie back up loud, anything to reinforce what I was to her and what she was to me. A cover story. A shield. A lie I wore to make it all easier.
Not that she knew that.
But Lauren was more than that. She was also my friend. And sometimes, friends notice when you’re bleeding, even if you swear you’re not.
“My dad only talks to me when he wants to remind me how to be like him. My brother shows up, and suddenly, he’s the golden child again. And Tru—” I broke off, shaking my head, running a hand through my hair like it might clear the fog. “He just…exists. And somehow that’s enough to make everyone love him. Meanwhile, I’m the asshole in the corner who can’t breathe without it turning into a goddamn performance.”
Lauren was quiet. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t tell me I was wrong. She just leaned back, gave me space, and let me vent until the sharp edges dulled.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, realizing too late that I’d said too much. The air felt too heavy. I’d wrenched open a door I’d meant to keep locked.
Lauren didn’t pounce on it or pry deeper. She just reached for the remote, turned the volume back up a notch, and leaned into the couch cushion beside me, not touching, not crowding, just…there.
“Sounds like a lot,” she murmured, her soft voice almost lost under the movie’s dialogue.
I let out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Yeah. You could say that.”
We didn’t talk after that. We didn’t have to. She unwrapped a piece of gum, offered me half, and went back to pretending we were just two kids killing time on a Saturday night.
Maybe that was why I kept her around. Because Lauren didn’t need me to be fine. She just let me sit in the mess without asking me to sweep it up.
CHAPTER 15
TRU
Some houses aren’t haunted by ghosts but by memories that never shut up.
The house was tooquiet without the parents around. But it wasn’t peaceful. It was eggshell quiet. Where every creak sounded like a threat, every breath fell too loud, and every glance carried more weight than it should.
I’d have to endure a week of this, walking on pins and needles, constantly looking over my shoulder thinking I was being chased by shadows. Hell, who was I kidding? That wouldn’t end once my parents came back from their honeymoon. I had two more years of this now that Dare lived under my roof.
I sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through channels. Amira curled at the other end, feet tucked under her, eating kettle corn from the bag. Her laugh came easily tonight. God, I needed that.
Until Dare showed up.
He thundered down the stairs like a storm cloud in joggers and that shirt I hated—tight around the arms, snug on his skin. His hair was a mess as if he’d just rolled out of bed, angry.
Without a word, he walked to the Bluetooth speaker and cranked the volume. Something aggressive and bass-heavy poured out, vibrating the floorboards.
“Jesus Christ,” Amira winced, pressing a finger to her ear. “Does he think this is a rave?”
“Apparently.”
Dare glanced our way like we were some blemish he had to suffer through. Then he smirked, mean and sharp.
