Inexplicably, I feel the need to defend them, even if I’m becoming more and more suspicious of their feelings. No one talks about the people I care about that way—like they’re some unredeemable monsters.
“Watch it, Mateo. You don’t know shit,” I hiss, squaring my shoulders. Familiar rage pours through me—rage at being alone, left behind and forgotten, rage at never being enough for anyone—pinpointed into a single target:the one person who’s always been my mark.
“Everything okay?” Faith’s fingers wrap lightly around my bicep, pulling me back. I don’t take my eyes off Mateo as I try to burn him to the ground with nothing more than my gaze.
When he doesn’t even whither, I look away, pinning my hatred on the next target.
“Where were you?” I glare at McCrae, and he has half a mind to look at least a little concerned. Pulling the ghost mask to sit on top of his head, I watch the concern mix with the pity he almost always wears around me anymore, and it’s enough to make me want to scream. My voice wobbles. “Some guy came up and fucking groped me. Right here, and everyone watched him. I pay you to be my bodyguard, not Faith’s loyal puppy. Do your fucking job.”
Faith’s arm falls, and McCrae hisses as he looks around the crowd. “Who was it? I’ll take care of it. You’re right. I shouldn’t have left.”
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. McCrae was just—” Faith’s voice is all concern, and I glare down at her.
“You’re right—it is your fault.”
“I didn’t know,” Mateo starts, sighing like he’s trying to overcome some inner hurdle. I hate him more for it; everyone pities me. If I’m not the damsel, then I’m the villain. I’m never the good character; no one would even consider it. “You should have said something. Are you okay?”
“Santos intervened.” I don’t mean to touch my lips at the mention of his name.
Who cares.McCrae doesn’t—that much, he’s made obvious.
“Who’s Santos?” Mateo asks.
“There you are!” Adalene bounds toward us, her face lighting up as she spots Faith.
Right before my eyes, I watch my normally snarky, spit-fire of a friend reform herself into something far more demure. Her sharp, watchful eyes become round and doe-like, her blushing cheeks covered like she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.
Faith rushes forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Adalene, and for the first time in my life, I’m jealous of a hug. Faith’s never once hugged me, never even tried. Not that I’d let her, but my heart still aches at the sight.
“Dale, you look adorable!” Faith says in awe, extending her arms to look down at Adalene’s outfit. She’s wearing a denim body suit with red and yellow patches haphazardly sewn on it, ruffly sleeves ending in straw-like material. Her curvy legs are covered in nude tights, and she has the cutest pair of brown boots, topped in the same straw-like material. Her face is covered in thick makeup, including a painted red and yellow patch on her cheek and a black stich-line on either side of her lips.
She looks every bit a girly scarecrow.
“Doesn’t she?” Mateo coos, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head. My stomach revolts at the side.
I don’t need to be here, seeing this.
“What took you so long, baby?” Mateo says into the top of Adalene’s head, and she tips her face to look up at him. A fleeting expression of concern crosses her features before it disappears.
In a low voice, she says, “I thought I saw someone.”
Before Mateo can say anything else, or I can demand McCrae take me home, another couple approaches, the woman in an all-black outfit, paired with black cowboy boots and cat ears, a baby on her hip dressed in a fuzzy mouse onesie. The man is in all black as well, minus the white ghost-face mask exactly like the one McCrae’s wearing.
They could almost be twins.
“Stetson, you guys all look amazing! I can’t believe how big Poppy’s getting.” Faith rushes toward the woman, slinging her arms over neck, careful of the baby as she does. The woman smiles at Faith, and I recognize her from the porch, her gaze murderous as she looked down on me.
“I still can’t believe you got Gus to dress up.” Mateo punches the man’s arm, his face splitting into a grin.
They’re one big, happy family. A family I’m not a part of.
Turning to peek at McCrae, whose mask still sits on top of his head, I see the hurt written across his face. He doesn’t try to hide it, and I wonder if he even realizes how much he’s exposing.
Augustus raises his mask to look at McCrae. “You copying me, brother?”
McCrae’s expression becomes stoney, only a small smile twisting his lips. “Isn’t that what a good stalker does?”
“Wouldn’t know,” Augustus says nonchalantly.
