Page 51 of Break Your Fall

“I know,” I cut in. “Iknow,” I repeat with more teasing self-deprecation. “But I love them, so I’m watching them, anyway.”

“I could join you. . .” Tommy trails off the suggestion and I wave the box around with pursed lips.

“You could. . .” I trail off, too, then look at him from beneath my lashes. “But I kinda need to do this one alone.”

“Gotcha,” he says with a soft stare. He’s no stranger to my Fruity Pebbles pity parties. But this one isn’t an open invitation.

“So,” I chime, getting to the reason I’m here as I set the box on the bar with my best persuasive smile. “We should throw a house-warming party.”

Tommy laughs, then abruptly stops. “Oh, no, there won’t be any party here.”

“Come on,” I protest with a gape and immediately recognize the familiarity of this argument. He snickers, so amused with himself, and I know I’m not going to win this one.

“The house is already warm and stocked full with everything I need.”So amused.

“Well,” I say as I lean down onto my arms, closer to him. “Considering what you put me through with Banks, I beg to differ.”

“It made you smile,” he says as he mimics my stance, even closer now. “And you got your payback by not telling me what happened.”

I squint at him and he squints back, causing me to push back upright with a laugh. “Fine,” I relent, but only because I have another idea. “How about a house-warming party for two?”

Tommy pushes upright with a slow nod. “We can do that,” he agrees, the words casual and loaded, his eyes studying me.

“Okay.” I grab my Fruity Pebbles and shake the box. “I’ll bring the cereal.” I step up next to him. “Aftermy pity party.” I tap the box against his shoulder, then take off for the door, whipping around just in time to see him watching after me with a smile spreading across his face.

15

Rescue

Reyna

I begin my morning facing the bathroom mirror. I’m wearing another new dress—a red cami lace with a black skull pattern. I blow dried my hair and brushed my teeth without taking my eyes off my reflection, repeating over and over that I’m fine. I have no reason to be ashamed of myself. I have no reason to be embarrassed. There’s nothing to laugh about.

STOP WITH THE DRAMATICS.

I fight the urge to close my eyes as I finish putting on a coat of mascara.Bite me.

The cap to my matte nude lipstick makes a popping sound as I yank it off, twisting up and spreading the shade over my lips just to maintain eye contact.

I look happier. I’ve seen myself enough during down moments that I didn’t have to see myself before to know I was a wreck.

I feel happier, and it’s showing in the brightness of my green eyes and the curl at the corners of my lips.

You’re Reyna.

My lips curl more, my features soft, open, vulnerable.

I inhale a deep breath, then repeat to myself again, “You’re fine. You’re Reyna. Nobody else.”

I’m Reyna.

And that works.

My smile is an all-out grin as I step into the hall and make my way to the kitchen, my self-assured moment tilting the closer I get to the sounds of rattling pans and my mother.

She’s behind the bar, surrounded by an array of foods, studying a piece of paper that I’m assuming is a recipe, with smudges of dried flour on her cheeks.

I catch her eye and she does a double-take, her eyes trailing down my dress as I wait for her verbal bullets, her judgments that would normally make me question myself, and on an especially bad day, turn back around and change.

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