“This isn’t fair! I’m an adult!”
“Nothing’s fair, Piglet.” His tone drops, low and sharp. “Mom’s in prison. This ismyfucking house. Don’t like it? Move out.”
“And who’s gonna take care of Atticus?” My voice is desperate now. “Youwon’t!”
“Shut up already,” he mutters, shoving the gun into his waistband like it’s just another accessory.
I glance around. Everyone is staring.
I stop on Grayson, leaning back against the wall, smirking at my misery. That brunette clings to his side like she already belongs there.
“Everyone gets their love story except me!” I cry out, causing the crowd to snicker.
Grayson imitates me in a whiny voice, making his new girl laugh.
I’m always the joke.
I can’t see anymore. My eyes are too clouded with tears. I spin around, run, and slam my bedroom door shut.
Of course — as usual — I collapse into my pillow and sob.
Rock bottom. Again. Trapped in this house. This life. This body that no one wants.
Knock knock.
Soft. Almost hesitant.
“Go away, Brax!” I shout through tears.
The door creaks open.
Grayson.
I shoot upright, frantic. “What—”
He doesn’t look away. “Hey. Sorry about Alex.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, voice barely there. I sound pathetic. Iampathetic.
I sniff, then mutter more to myself than him, “Maybe I should sneak out the window and go find Alex.”
Yeah! That’s a good idea!
I head for the window.
A shadow moves at the edge of my vision.
I look over, and my heart slams against my ribs. Grayson’s shirt is coming off.
I freeze.
He lifts it over his head in one fluid motion — smooth, unbothered.
And there it is.
His broad chest, sculpted like marble. Shadowed in all the right places. His abs tight and defined like a model on IG. That V-line.God.
I blink. My breath gone. I forget how to swallow.
