“Get dressed,” I hiss, tossing a pillow at him.
“But my clothes—” I slap a palm over my face, groaning. His clothes are sopping wet on the floor of the shower,right next to mine.
I hop around my room, putting on the first things I see, brushing my hair back into a ponytail. When I look at in the mirror, I try not to cringe at the obviousI’ve been fuckedsign flashing over my head.
“It’s not that bad.” Santos’ gleeful smile tells me just how much he’s lying.
“I’ll get whoever it is down the hall, and then you can sneak to your room.”
Santos’s eyebrows raise. “Whoever it is. You know who it is, V.”
I glance at the door and then shake my head. We both know who it is. I just don’t know how he’s about to react.
“If he doesn’t see you?—”
“V, open this door, or I’ll have to assume that fucking rat hurt you, and I’ll break it down.”
My mouth flops open, and Santos’ smile falters. Irritation—or hurt, I can’t tell which—flashes across his face, and for the first time ever, I want to fight McCrae.
No matter how badly I want to tell him off, the words instantly die on my tongue as I face him. McCrae’s gaze looks over my shoulder for the briefest moment, and then he turns away.
His expression remains indifferent—completely unfazed.
“What’re you doing?” I close the door behind me, racing to keep up with him as he stomps down the hall to the kitchen. As I emerge into the enormous room, the blood in my veins turns to ice, and I have to grab the counter to keep from falling over.
The events of the day before come crashing back, like a tidal wave kept behind the smallest of sand barriers—bursting through in a flood of emotion so violent, I touch my chest just to make sure my heart’s still beating beneath.
“V, are you?—”
“What’re they doing here?” I stare at McCrae, the feeling of betrayal growing worse with each passing moment.
He sighs before facing me, and for a moment, I see a flicker of sadness in his eyes before he blinks it away. Instead, he looks at Faith, whose face is covered in red splotches, like she’s been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I step toward her, confused, and her eyes widen.
“You were attacked,” she whispers. That’s when I realize the tears are for me—out of pity, or maybe out of disappointment for what I did. It’s a crushing blow, one that has rage cutting through me so vicious, I feel my chest to search for the knife that must be protruding from my heart.
“I don’t?—”
“We’re worried about you. Are you okay?” It’s Adalene who speaks next, and I grip the edge of the bar so tightly, my knuckles crack. It’s one thing to have Faith worried for me, but another to have Adalene—a person I’ve done nothing but hurt my entire life—concerned.
It’s too much.
“Please, don’t,” I bite out, my eyes never straying to look at her.
“V, if you’d just talk to me, we could have helped?—”
I bark a laugh, its edges sharp enough to silence the room. Faith’s face only falls further, and McCrae stiffens.
Fuck them. Fuck them all.I’m a caged animal, surrounded by every good and decent person I know—every person I can’t stand the thought of disappointing again.When will enough be enough?
“How dare you?” I hiss, finally facing my brother. He stands tall and proud, wearing a simple, white collared shirt and dark jeans, his hair perfectly coiffed, mirrored by a dark shadow of hair over his face. He looks just like our father, his eyes sharp and intelligent, lips firm and indifferent.
I feel the bile crawling up my throat before I can stop it.
Whirling to the sink, I empty the meager contents of my stomach, stopping only when the heaving leaves my eyes watering and my mouth dry. Everyone continues to wait, to stare. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I no longer know where to run, where to hide from this. From them. From my past.
Faith walks toward me hesitantly, offering me a glass of water. I take it, careful not to touch her. After polishing off the cool liquid, I raise my gaze back to Mateo. His has changed somehow—no longer hard and reserved, but true concern fills his eyes, and I contemplate puking all over again.
