Page 112 of Dream Girl
“Oh, I didn’t realize the piano was yours. I’m sorry,” I told him, feeling bad. “But I’ve been playing since I was little; I’m not going to break it.”
“Don’t be sorry, this isn’t about the piano,” Katie told me, brushing him off.
“I don’t like people touching my stuff,” he growled, eyes flashing with anger.
No. This wasn’t about the piano. This was about me.
I couldn’t go home. But I wasn’t wanted here. I wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t anything that counted. Maybe I’d even broken interdimensional law.
“No?” I got up and rubbed my hands all over the piano, even though I could hear my childhood-self getting yelled at for leaving fingerprints.
“Don’t be infantile,” he snapped.
“Infantile? We both know that this isn’t about the piano; but youdon’tlike people touching your stuff, do you?” I went over to Evan and rubbed my hands all over him, then kissed him.
I realized what I was doing and broke it off.
Looking up at Evan, my knees trembled with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to use you like that.”
“Hey,” Evan’s voice went soft, as he pulled me to him. “I’m all for you bratting Bren, but don’t do it if you can’t take the consequences. Peaches, you’renotready.”
What did that even mean?
“She won’t ever be, because there is no place for her in this pack,” Brennan retorted. “I don’t know what your endgame is, butyou don’t belong here.”
“Bren, she’s bonded to your packmate. A bond thatpredatesyour pack. You don’t get to make that choice,” Katie corrected.
“No,you and Motherdon’t get to make that choice for my pack.” Brennan got in her face, both of them posturing like it might come to blows.
I snapped, “What am I supposed to do, Brennan? As I stated before, I’m not here to wreck anything. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not here to steal Wes from Evan or to get your money. You’re right, Idon’tbelong here. But what if I can’t go home? I…” I sagged into Evan’s arms. “I don’t belong anywhere. I’ll never belong. I’ll never be good enough.”
Self-defeat cascaded down on me, crushing my soul.
“What the fuck, Bren?” Evan held me tight as he ran his fingers through my hair. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
“Why are you wearing the flannel I bought Evan?” Brennan growled, as he tugged at the corner of it.
“Really?” Katie goaded.
“Fine.” Getting out of Evan’s arms, I unbuttoned the flannel, sick of this bullshit.
“Grace, stop.” Evan put his hand on mine.
“No. He doesn’t want me to wear this shirt.” I took it off and threw it at him. “Happy?” I put my hands on my hips and scowled.
“Why is there yelling?” Riley joined us. “Fuckity fuck fuck. Grace, who am I destroying for you?”
“Shit,” Katie said. “What happened to her back? Car accident?”
“It’s a fucked-up story,” Evan said quietly.
Right. My scars. Mortification filled me as I stood there in my sports bra, scars on display. Back in my cheer days I’d always been careful to choose a sports tank that covered them, or I wore a shirt over my sports bra. Our cheer outfits were never usually a problem or I could wear a dance top under it that matched my skintone.
But here I was, in all my glory, back fully on display…
My breath hitched in my chest as I tried not to panic.
Wes ran up the front stairs. “Um, hey, is everything okay?”
