What I say, what I want? Like when I went to court and pleaded to stay with the Banks, and was essentially told no, that the DNA inside my cells was more important than my own wants and needs? Bullshit. I call bullshit on all of this. Nothing that’s happening now has anything to do with me. I might be integral to this power struggle between Tess and Justin, but neither of them cares about what I want.
“Okay.” Just that. The easiest, most universal word in the entire world. Apparently, Coca-Cola and corona (like the virus) are the next two. Go figure.
Tess gives me another odd look before turning and heading back down the hall, the sound of her heels loud against the bamboo floors that cover the entire second floor. I spin back around to see Maxx making his way toward the house.
Maxine is still there at the end of the driveway, but she’s slowly drifting away. Her eyes lift up, scanning the ugly cube-like house with its myriad windows. Somehow, even though it seems impossible from this distance, I feel like she sees me.
She stops walking, and the two of us stare at each other—or at least in her case, the general direction of one another—and my heart breaks. I press my hand against the window, knowing that Delphine will have to clean my prints off and not caring. I just want my sister back. I want to talk to her so desperately that it becomes a physical pain, starting in my toes and traveling up to my scalp.
Miss you and love you fierce. Miss you and love you fierce. Miss you so goddamn much and love you so fucking fierce.
“Kota.”
It’s X.
I peel my hand away from the window, my gaze remaining on my sister until she finally—unfortunately—turns away and starts to walk back down the block toward her car. It’s a white Nissan Altima, 2006 I think. She inherited it from our great aunt after she passed. Like the car I was supposed to get from Saffron, a family heirloom.
Maxx opens my nightstand drawer, withdrawing my phone before snatching the Tess-phone from its tripod. He dumps them along with his own phone in Parrish’s room, clearly getting ready for an intensely private conversation with me; the book bag is still in the bathroom thankfully. He then collects the bug detector, shuts the curtains, and does another sweep of both the room and the closet.
When he snatches my hand, I let out a small sound of surprise at the strength in his grip—and the fire that rushes through my veins at his touch. He yanks me into the closet and shuts the door.
It’s mostly dark in here. There’s a series of small windows against the roofline, but they’ve got these special shudders on them—according to Tess, it’s to keep the sunlight out to preserve the integrity of my wardrobe—and they’re all half-slitted. Some light comes in, but not a lot.
Also, it’s absurdly bare in here. My clothes take up about a fourth of the massive space. The shoe racks are mostly empty, the jewelry cabinet in the center of the room filled with costume jewelry from back home, a few heirlooms from Grandma Carmen, and that’s about it.
“It was Maxine,” X confirms, his face a broken, twisted thing. He won’t even meet my eyes, running his tongue along his lower lip again, across that bite mark I left in the heat of the moment and now regret so bitterly that I can taste it. “She brought a letter for you.”
“No,” I snap, and then finally, blessedly, he flicks his eyes up to mine. We can’t hide from each other nor can we hide from what happened between us last night. Even though I really, really want to. “I can’t read it. What if Justin finds out? I’m not risking Parrish, especially not after …”
Maxx exhales, reaching up to tousle his hair as he leans his back against the wall. It occurs to me that last night was his first time, and guilt sweeps over me yet again. This isn’t fair. Your first time should at least be fun, even if the sex isn’t good (it was for us, but I’m just saying). It should be something you can laugh and joke about.
“What if I read it to you?” he suggests, but I’m already shaking my head violently.
“No.” I put both hands up, palms out. Knowing that Maxx has a letter on him from my sister, I … God, I want to hear her words so bad, even if he’s the one reading them to me. I turn away and pretend to be interested in the three hoodies hanging up beside me, reaching up to rub the sleeve of one between my fingers.
He moves up behind me, and I could seriously scream.
