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“It’s expensive,” I add.
“Mhmm.”
“I shouldn’t…”
“No,” she says, and I blink at her.
“No?” I ask.
“No more saying should or shouldn’t,” she says. “You’ve spent seven years living by someone else’s rules. So today… I’m making the decisions!”
I let out a tearful laugh. “You don’t trust me?” I ask.
“I think if I asked you to choose between two bottles of shampoo, you would apologize for having hair,” she deadpans, and I laugh harder than I mean to. “When your brain stops expecting someone to punish you for picking the wrong one… We can come back, and you can make the decisions.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I looked down at the overflowing cart. Clothes. Shoes. A hoodie. The Kindle. Toothpaste that I would have picked. Shampoo that smells like vanilla. It shouldn’t feel this overwhelming. Life should not be this hard to navigate. They are just things. But they aren’t. They’re choices. They are little pieces of me that I haven’t been allowed to have in a very long time.
“Ready to go?” Bella asks. “We should probably get you back before Mason and Bex kill each other.”
“Bex said they aren’t friends. Then I saw Mason’s shop,” I say. “What even happened?”
“A lot of confusing bullshit. I don’t know who to believe, but I do know they’re both idiots,” she says, but I don’t press for more information.
Chapter Six
Beckett
This is the first time in a very long time that we’ve all been together. So far, everyone is doing… Okay. I set the rule that no one is allowed to drink tonight. Fighting is not acceptable, and I will kick everyone the fuck out if anyone pisses me off. Mason set basically the same boundaries, but they are all looking between us, expecting Mason and me to be the ones to fight.
The Turners are standing on one side of the living room. The Shaws naturally gravitate toward the kitchen. Ace keeps wandering back and forth like he’s trying to prove he's Switzerland. Dad is pretending to watch whatever’s on TV, but every 30 seconds I catch him checking out the front window. We all know he’s waiting for Sierra. Hell, we all are. Bella texted about 20 minutes ago, saying she was almost done and not to start without them. The translation? They bought half the damn town. I smiled to myself, because she deserves every bit of it.
“You look smug,” Ace remarks.
“I’m not smug,” I deadpan.
“Bullshit.”
“I’m thinking,” I continue.
“You know she’s gonna have more clothes than you now.”
“I’ve got clothes,” I argue.
“Yeah, and they are all the same fucking white T-shirt,” he says, and Dad barks out a laugh.
“They’re comfortable,” I say, shrugging.
“They’re depressing,” he points out, “and weird.”
“They’re practical,” I say. “Matches everything.”
“Mhmm,” I say.
“Better warn everyone,” he says.
“Listen up,” I say, and the room goes silent. “I’ve got one more rule.”
