“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, straining my neck to stay still. “It was an accident.”
Her eyes narrowed. I looked the most like Mom out of all of us. I had her small stature and her almond-shaped eyes, button nose, and bee-stung lips. I think she resents me for it.
All at once she let me go.
I loosed a long exhale.
She stood, walking over to my desk. I watched silently as she opened the drawer with my college pamphlets, the found jewelry I’d been building as a portfolio, my treasures and my dreams. One by one, she picked up my jewelry, walking over to my open window.
I didn’t bother wondering how she knew. Tansy Crowne knew everything, saw everything, heard everything.
“Should I show you my trick?” She dangled my necklaces, earrings, and bracelets in the empty air.
She dropped all but one, holding the glimmering item in her grasp.
Fear crawled up my throat. “Mom—”
“You know how this works, Abigail. You take, I take.”
She dropped the last one.
My mouth parted, staring at the open window as she walked by me, whispering in my ear not to be late for the party later. Staring even after she left. Years of artwork lost in a second. The only pieces left were in my secret box, stowed away in my closet.
The worst part… I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at myself for believing I could be anything more.
I don’t know if my family was ever happy, but we weren’t so… unhappy.
There was a time when I wasn’t so vile.
With Dad gone, all I ever really knew was Mom, and for as long as I can remember, she’d favored my siblings, specifically Gemma. Nothing I ever did was good enough for her. She set Gemma and me against each other, but Gemma always came out on top.
I keep hoping one day she’ll let me win, or at least, let me know why I’m losing.
When I finally turned around, Theo was in the doorway, watching.
How long had he been there?
Vulnerability scraped at my throat. I couldn’t handle whatever he had planned, not after my mother. Something flickered warm in his light eyes, but it was gone before I could decipher it.
He kicked off the frame. “Let’s go, Reject.”
I felt Theo’s judgment at my back. It’s what everyone would think. How could Abigail Crowne even dream of college? Dream of anything other than the life she was given? Abigail Crowne was less than. Abigail Crowne was second best.
Abigail Crowne was worthless.
“Not gonna fight back?” Theo asked.
Dark, silky cello music grew louder the farther we descended downstairs. Today I could dress in jeans, Chanel pumps, and a bulky, oversized crewneck sweatshirt, which meant Theo was dressed casually in dark-gray fitted jeans and a cable-knit sweater that outlined his biceps and forearms too well. We had a world-class cellist, and we liked to show our privilege by dressing down.
The party should be in the garden… but it had to be moved, for obvious reasons, and was now in the terrace overlooking the ocean and unburned parts of the garden—though it had been mostly fixed, the only evidence of Abigail Crowne and her near-constant fuck-uppery the smell of burnt leaves.
Bloody Marys, mint juleps, and assholes await me. I can’t wait.
Theo grabbed me by the collar, yanking me backward right before I would enter. He pressed me against the wall.
“You in there?” He ruffled my hair and curls fell over my eyes, blurring his face. I saw only important parts of him, the parts that defined Theo Hound. His sharp jaw. The cut of his gaunt cheeks. His piercing green eyes.
Theo’s soft voice and playful actions cut worse than any of his harsh words. After Mom’s reminder this morning, I knew how dangerous it was to believe in something good.