Heading back downstairs, I feel my body warm as I lay my eyes on the tux and top hat again. God, everyone will look at me.
But…
And then I pause, noticing the dress is gone. I look left to right and walk into the living room, seeing Amy spike another drink before she sips it.
“Where’s Krisjen?” I ask her. “And the dress?”
“No idea,” she says, drinking the glass half-down. “You didn’t want to wear it anyway, did you? This one’s much prettier.” And she points to the ugly one on the hanger I’d gotten weeks ago at Mimi’s.
No, I don’t want to wear it.
I’m not wearing a dress tonight.
I look over my shoulder at the tux and smile. And then I grab my phone and send the text to Callum.
TOMORROW NIGHT.
I stare at Callum’s text from this afternoon, holding my breath a little. He thinks we have a deal. I took Mercutio and the key, after all.
But I’m not going. What’s he going to do? Force me?
And if he tries to retaliate, he’s going to find that the Jaegers don’t need to get violent to make him pay.
It’s done. Over. Fuck ‘em.
“Olivia!” Dallas shouts from downstairs.
I heave a sigh, just knowing he’s going to ask me to bathe Dex or make dinner or go run an errand. I toss my phone onto my bed and hop up, opening my door.
Voices hit me immediately. “You can’t just come over here anytime you want,” Trace scolds. “I got other ladies to tend to.”
I peer over the stairs, seeing Krisjen. “Oh, please. ‘Tending?’” she jokes. “I’ve started to carry my vibe in my purse for afterward.”
Dallas and Iron burst into laughter, and I walk down the stairs, seeing Trace’s mouth fall open a little. “Is that what you do in the bathroom so long?”
But she doesn’t answer, her eyes shifting up to me as soon as I stop at the bottom.
I fold my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”
She starts to say something, but Army steps in the open doorway she’s blocking and nudges her.
She scrunches up her face in a scowl, but when she looks behind her, her face falls.
“In or out, kid,” Army tells her.
“Um…”
She gapes at his bare chest, and I roll my eyes. I shoot forward, snapping my fingers in her face to snap her out of it. “Krisjen.”
I mean, hooray for being sex positive, but the girl has a one-track mind sometimes. Seriously.
She turns her attention back to me. “Oh, right.” She pulls up the box under her arm and hands it to me. “I brought your dress back.”
My dress. Clay’s dress? That I made for her?
Fine. I snatch the box away from her and toss it onto the floor in the game room.
I feel like an idiot for even trying, but lesson learned.
But Krisjen dives down and picks up the box again. “I don’t mean that,” she spits out. “I mean for you to wear.”
“I’m not a debutante.”
“No, but you could escort one,” she retorts in a tone like she’s mocking my stupidity. She looks around the room to my brothers. “Do we have to talk about this down here?”
I stay rooted in my spot. I may have done what I could to cut off communication, but Clay has known where to find me. There’s no way in hell I’m making some grand gesture in a public place. She’s the one who screwed up.
“She’s dying on the inside,” Krisjen says in a low voice.
I lift my gaze, meeting hers.
“She’s dying without you.”
My throat tightens, my chest constricts, and something stings inside me.
But I shake my head. “She broke it off with me.”
“She made a mistake,” Krisjen says, my brothers still standing around while Macon sits in the chair off to my left. “She’s going to make lots of mistakes. She’s spoiled, a little self-absorbed, angry about a lot of shit, but she’s learning.” Krisjen lowers her voice. “And she’s yours.”
My eyes burn.
“Your crazy, impulsive, wild, complicated girl,” Krisjen tells me.
I press my lips together and drop my gaze, because I’m about to lose it. My crazy, impulsive, wild, beautiful girl.
My girl.
“There’s no point, Krisjen,” I say. “We’re both graduating, leaving town—”
“None of that matters!” she growls. “Just be here now!”
I’ve stopped breathing, Krisjen’s anger startling me.
“There’s no tomorrow,” she goes on. “What are you worried about? Just be here today!”
A tear spills down my face, feeling like I’m being scolded by a mom I didn’t really have.
I don’t want to be hurt.
Maybe I love her. Maybe she’ll break me again or I’ll break her, or maybe we’ll leave each other in August.
Maybe we’ll never see each other again.
But maybe she’s worth a few more months.
A few weeks.
One more day.
I look over at Macon who watches me in silence, and I don’t know what I see in his eyes, but I understand it.