Page 8 of Cruel Winter with You

I blinked.

Was that . . . ?

“Youasshole,” Tabitha snarled. “Did you have fun telling Mom and Dad my business? I hope you did, because I’m having the time of my life telling my best friend that you’re fuckinggoneover her. Especially knowing that she thinks you’re just a bratty little piece of shit!”

I owlishly looked up at Marc, expecting him to burst into laughter and deny it. But there was no quick retort, no jab. Hisjaw clenched as though he was gritting his teeth. He kept his eyes on his sister, and I was briefly afraid that the fight would turn ugly in a way I couldn’t handle. But then he said, “Get the fuck out of my room before I tell Mom and Dad that you’re drunk, too.”

“Asshole,” Tabitha repeated, storming out in a blaze of sequins.

She left me behind, and I bit the inside of my cheek before cautiously asking, “Is that really me? In the pictures?”

Marc did something I hadn’t seen in about a decade: heflushed.

“Jesus, Jamie.” He ran a nervous hand down his face. It was the first time he’d used my real name in ... forever.

I went down to my knees. The ball gown I’d worn to prom and never taken off pooled around me, a puddle of blue tulle and pearls. Gingerly, I picked up a photo. “I remember this one. It’s from—”

“The spelling bee you won.” He knelt, too. Gently took the picture from my hand. With surprising care, he started stacking them all back into the box, like they were his hoard. His treasure. Not to be gazed upon by mere mortals.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why?” He stopped to meet my eyes. “Did you really just ask me why? Are you high or something?”

“Actually, yeah. I think I might be.” It was probably the edible, the reason I felt so detached from this moment. As though this was happening to someone else and I was just watching a recording of it. “How serious is this?” I asked academically, pointing at the box.

A single eyebrow crept up. “What do you think?”

Very,my slow brain provided.

“But don’t flatter yourself too much,” he added, a little cold. “I’m probably just stuck at some weird stage of my psychosexual development. I’ll grow out of it.”

Right. Probably. “I—”

“Can you get the hell out of my room, now?” He stood. Carefully put the box back in the drawer. “I was asleep before my psycho sister and her psycho friend barged in.”

“Oh. Yeah, I ... sorry.” It took me a couple of tries to get to my feet. I started walking out, disoriented.

Stopped when I heard, “Jamie.”

I turned around.

The corners of Marc’s lips twitched. “Since the secret’s out ...” He grabbed his phone from his nightstand, lifted it, and snapped a single picture.

Of me.

In my prom dress.

“I really didn’t mean to get you and Tab in trouble,” he murmured. “But selfishly, I’m glad you didn’t spend the night with Niall.”

“I . . . Why?”

“Because when I saw you in that dress earlier tonight, I ...” He exhaled. Shook his head. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one does.”

No one.“What about you?”

“I deserve you least of all. But I want you the most. And I won’t give up. The lengths I’m willing to go to ... One day, I’ll show you.”

I stood there, mystified, for a long moment.

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