I guess I would know, since I feel too much.
She scowls. Probably because she knows I’m right.
“I want you to fuck me because you want me. Not because I’ll help you cope with other shit in your life, but because you want me.”
Her scoff would be cute if she wasn’t so infuriating.
“Think about it, princess. Take a shower. Get warm.” I kiss her forehead, then gesture for Troy to follow me.
We leave her in the bathroom to take her shower.
I prop myself against the door and pretend I can’t hear her crying.
6
Danica
I lean against the gray tiled wall of the shower and force myself to take deep breaths. No more crying—I need to stop crying over my parents, over Patrick, over Leah. It sucks and it’s horrible, and I wish this had never happened. But it did. And I have to move on and do what I can to make things better.
So I felt my feelings, but no more crying. I focus on the water streaming over my body instead. It heats my skin, loosens my muscles, brings feeling back into my numb hands and feet.
When I turn off the water, my aching sorrow and my bottomless rage reemerge. I consider getting back in the shower.
But standing in the shower won’t bring my family back together. It won’t fix everything that’s broken.
I’m here in this beautiful bathroom and I can’t even fucking enjoy it because I’m sad about my useless-as-fuck parents.
I glance at the closed bathroom door. Edmund was surprisingly kind. It was like he could see into my heart, like he knew exactly what I was feeling. Even when I couldn’t articulate it, he knew.
“Dani? I have some clothes for you.” It’s Troy’s voice, just outside.
I wrap a fluffy towel around myself and open the door.
Troy holds a stack of clothes. Like Edmund, he’s unbelievably handsome. Maybe not conventionally—like, he wouldn’t be a model. But he’s rugged and intense with that stubble on his square jaw and the almost permanent scowl he wears. His deep brown eyes search mine. “You’ve been crying.”
No sense lying about it. “Some.”
“Edmund heated up lasagna. Hungry?”
“For lasagna? Always.”
He smiles, the tiniest quirk of his lips. If I weren’t staring so hard at him, I wouldn’t have noticed. He pushes the clothes toward me. “See you in a few.”
I get dressed in clothes that smell like Edmund. A pair of black sweatpants that I have to roll up, and a threadbare t-shirt with a logo so faded I can’t tell what it used to be.
On my way out of the bathroom, I grab Troy’s sweatshirt and pull it on over the t-shirt. I have to walk back through a large bedroom. I barely glanced at it when Edmund led me through, but now I take my time. The wood floor is a rich, deep brown. Almost as dark as Troy’s eyes. The bed is covered in a forest green duvet that matches curtains which frame a large window overlooking the city.
It’s weird seeing San Esteban from this angle. Usually I’m on the other side of town. I can count the number of times I’ve been to the Salding district on one hand. I was always told it’s too dangerous.
Not sure what Granddad was smoking, because it seems fine to me.
I stare out at the city for a long fucking time. Then I put on my metaphorical big girl pants. Edmund told me I’m not a hook-up. I’m not sure what the hell I am, then. Guess it’s time to find out.
Edmund
Danica comes out of my room. Her skin has some color in it—she’s no longer ghostly pale.
Troy and I, seated on opposite ends of the long sofa, get to our feet. A couple minutes ago, I told him we’d just be hanging with her tonight, no messing around. He agreed that it’s best. But I’m already having doubts about that resolution.
