“Right over here.” Jett gestures toward what appears to be the first exhibit.
The Rover crawls forward as Bronwyn mutters, “Can’t wait to get out of this shithole.”
“Give it a try.” Excitement rushes through me, and I’m practically bouncing in my seat as I see the old machinery in the first exhibit. I press my nose to the window, drinking everything in. “You’re gonna love it.”
“A hot bath, that’s what I’m going to love.”
“Soon,” Easton soothes her.
“Why not now? I’m not feeling this place at all,” Bronwyn huffs out when he parks the car. “Maybe we should leave.”
At that last remark, my chest truly deflates.
First, because Easton might listen to her and hightail it out of here.
More importantly, though, why won’t she give it a chance? Is she giving up on me that easily?
Sigh.
I won’t try to convince her.
Guess I should be grateful she’s here with me at all. That I’m not back home, alone with the knowledge that my twin wants nothing to do with me.
It’s fine. It’sfine.
Instead of talking it through, they exchange a long, meaningful look, having a silent conversation without me.
I’m not hurt.
Mostly because something else pulls at my attention.
Goosebumps rise on my arms as my excitement twists into dread, my breath catching. I’m not sick or anything like that. I’ve experienced this feeling before when Bronwyn and her friends stalked me to the bathroom at school before humiliating me.
But Bronwyn’s here. Her bullying days are over.
Which leaves me with…
Oh my God. Someone else is stalking me. I’m being watched.
I should be terrified, but instead, I like it. I can’t help the small smile that tugs on my lips.
“Thirty minutes and we’re out.” Easton drapes his arm over the back of the passenger seat as he turns to me. “Thirty, Skylar. Okay?”
“Yes, I promise.” My teeth graze my bottom lip when I pause. “Um…Bronwyn, you sure it’s okay?”
“Absolutely,” she says kindly, but doesn’t look back at me.
I’m about to resign and tell her we can totally drop it when the SUV rattles.
It’s Jett, pounding on the passenger window.
Easton curses, low and breathless. Bronwyn and I scream so loudly that I think our ears are going to pop.
“Hello again.” Jett’s not bothered in the slightest, beaming at us as if his grin is a permanent fixture on his face.
As I try to steady my pulse, regret twists my insides. Screaming at someone when they’re just trying to be friendly and welcoming is rude as hell.
We’re guests here, yet we treat him like a freak.
