Giulia: TEXT ME BACK
I glance at the message. Ignore it.
Giulia is a pain in everyone’s ass. Amara, too.
I shudder at the prospect of them riding up to Poughkeepsie but I don’t answer.
I have no words. None. And it’s killing me.
When banging threatens to break down my door, I jump in surprise.
Victoria and Shay have come around, I’ve even hung out at the diner with the crew, but I think because Denny’s in Madrid, no one’s pushed me when I stay on the edges of conversation.
Victoria’s been my biggest support—she comes over, sits with me, and we don’t talk. We just watch TV. Silence. It’s become our saving grace.
She wouldn’t make that much racket though.
“Wynter, with God as my witness, if you don’t open this fucking door, I’ll kick it in.”
A shiver rushes down my spine.
Is that… Priest?
My throat tightens. My eyes burn. But I don’t answer the door.
“Snowflake?”
A sob escapes me.
I pump more bleach onto the nail brush.
Scrub scrub scrub.
I hiss as the sting deepens, burns?—
BANG!
A booted shitkicker does its job and thuds as he follows through as promised.
But that’s Priest all round, isn’t it? Full of promises.
He has his beliefs. His targets. His goals. His needs. His sins.
I’ve wanted to be one of them since the first time we met.
A tear falls, curling over my cheek.
That day seems so long ago now. Before Oakwood, before the Veronians, before?—
How can he ever love the sinner I’ve become?
The End…
