Page 1 of Bullied Pretend Mate
Chapter 1 - Maeve
Silverville is just as gorgeous as I remember.
When you’re driving through the mountains, the creek trickling along just outside your window, it’s peaceful. Serene. Even if the smells of ash and smoke linger in the air, driving into Silverville gives you a great sense of contentment, which likely mostly comes from the mountains themselves rather than the town.
Still, I can see why so many people are still flocking up here to enjoy the early spring weather, despite the wildfires.
That thought makes me swallow as I turn onto Main Street, small shops, bakeries, and coffee shops sprouting up on either side of me as I drive. This town is picturesque, quaint. The smells of baking bread and fresh espresso float through my open window, as do the sounds of laughter and gentle murmurs when someone pushes into the cafe, smiling and greeting another on their way.
“It’s fine,” I mutter to myself when their eyes linger on me. “Everything is absolutely fine.”
In California, my choice of car felt bold. Fun.
Here, it feels like I’ve painted a hugelook at mesign on my back, rolling through town in my lime-green Jeep. As if the people around here don’t have enough of a reason to stare at me, to mark my return to town.
I think about the last time I was here. The public, embarrassing admonishment from the alpha supreme, Holden Sorel. My senior year of high school was the worst year of my life, and it ended with me standing before the supreme, headbowed, trembling as he boomed about the danger we had put the entire town in.
Forcing that thought from my head, I take a left and leave downtown behind me, delving into the residential neighborhood that sprawls out before me. Tiny little white houses with tiny little front yards. A few kids are playing on the lawn, toys turned over on the grass.
The closer I get, the more a knot forms in my throat.
All the same streets line up and fall down around me like dominoes. People I recognize from dinners at my grandmother’s house as a kid, people who would wave to us.
Before they knew I was a magic wielder. Before my family decided they’d be better off getting rid of me altogether. At least I know I’m the only Villareal in town, my grandmother being the only one brave enough to stay through fire after fire.
Pulling into the driveway is harder than I thought, jostling my body in a pattern of bumps that feels like braille, a silent communication to my nervous system.
We have arrived at Grandma’s house.
Which used to mean stuffing myself into a dress that didn’t fit for a Sunday dinner I most certainly didn’t want to attend. Picking at my food, hunger climbing up my insides as I pushed it around with my fork. Still, no matter how little I ate, my body was up for discussion.
“Give Maeve a bit more broccoli. Good to get her greens, you know.”
“Why don’t you have water with dinner tonight?”
“We’re short one piece of garlic bread. Why don’t you skip?”
As a kid, I didn’t spot the difference between me and the other kids—the siblings and cousins who existed in the “right” kinds of bodies. Once I was a teenager, the adults got a lot more forward, one uncle even feeling emboldened to tell me I would be a lot prettier if I weren’t so fat.
“I am not my past,” I mutter to myself, thinking about the phrases my therapist and I worked on before I came home this week. “My past can’t control me.”
Still, standing next to my Jeep and staring up at my grandmother’s house feels like a religious journey of sorts. Coming full circle to the place that hurt me most.
And I still can’t quite believe the email I received from her attorney’s office.
To: Maeve Villareal
From: Fogue Legal Associates
Ms. Villareal,
It is with great sadness that I’m reaching out to inform you that your grandmother, Calantha Villareal, has recently passed. Your grandmother has long entrusted Fogue Legal Associates with the handling of her assets, dealings, and final will and testament. We currently hold said document, and, with the event of her passing, it is time to read the document to the inheritors of the estate.
We ask that you please join us on the following date for the reading of your grandmother’s will. Should you have any questions or concerns, we may discuss them more thoroughly in person.
Once again, we are sorry for your loss and hope this news finds you in good health, if not in good spirits.
Please contact us at your earliest convenience to confirm that you will be attending the will reading.
