Semua Bab His To Hear, His To Hold: Bab 51 - Bab 60

I kissed the photo of Anne before pulling my clothes back in front of it, careful not to knock over the little altar I'd built her. It was just growing in size lately—her picture now in a bigger golden frame, a candle, the comb she dropped in her locker once, and the few notes she wrote directly to me, folded and refolded so many times the creases were nearly white. Since she tricked me into telling the truth, everything's been different. Like something inside me finally clicked into place. I thought I'd lose everything that night, but instead... she said I was her responsibility. Her problem. She acknowledged me. Claimed me. She said I was hers. I left my room with a strange lightness in my chest, the kind that makes the world feel manageable. Breakfast with Grandma was waiting—ten minutes of misery, but after that I'd see Anne. Maybe she'd let me touch her hair today. Maybe she'd let me stay longer. Then I heard it. "Victor," a woman's voice called softly as I entered the kitc

The rest of gym class went surprisingly smoothly, all things considered. No more "accidental" kicks to the stomach. No more public executions via soccer ball. Just sweaty running and a tight knot in my chest from being too aware of every gaze. People even high fives me once the class was completed for the day. But that peace ended the second we stepped into the locker room. "HEY, YOU BITCH!!" Jessica's voice came shrieking through the tiled echo chamber. "YOU AIMED THE BALL RIGHT AT US, RIGHT?!!! YOU MUST'VE BEEN DYING TO DO THAT SHIT!!!" She stomped in like a rabid Chihuahua, hair messed up, lip gloss smeared, rage vibrating off her like heat. "YOU THINK I'M SCARED OF YOU?! ARE YOU TRYING TO PISS ME OFF?!!! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE SOMETHING, BITCH?!!! LET'S SEE WHAT YOU'VE GOT!!! KICK ME AGAIN!!!!" I didn't even look at her yet. I just pulled my shirt over my head. "Why would I waste time on you?" "Huh?" Her voice cracked. "Fuck off already," I said, calm and bored, like she was g

The little bell above the café door jingled as I walked in, all glossy-lipped smiles and a freshly dabbed concealer patch on the side of my face. I spotted Uncle already seated at our usual corner table, nursing an espresso and flipping through emails like his fingers were on fire. "Have you been behaving well at school?" he asked the moment I sat down, not even looking up. "Listening to what the teacher says to you?" "Of course." I smiled sweetly, crossing my legs. "I get along with all my teachers." And a few of their husbands, too, not that he needed to know that part. Uncle finally glanced up—and narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with your face then?" Ugh. "I had an accident in gym class," I said, casually flipping my hair over the fading bruise. Nothing screams 'school spirit' like taking a soccer ball to the face in front of half the senior class. He nodded. "That's fine then. Remember to enjoy your youth." Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes sharpening. "You have a boyf

The next day at school, Jessica strolled up to Katy and me like she'd been camped out waiting for our arrival, which, knowing her, wouldn't surprise me. Her face was still scratched from the tumble she took when the stray dog tripped her mid-escape. She'd clearly tried to cover it with makeup, but bruises have a way of showing through. Still, I had to give her credit—her spine was made of something nasty and durable. She refused to stay down. Victor was out sick today. Probably for the best. I needed a breather. A whole twenty-four hours without him pressing kisses into my hair and whispering about how easy it would be to "take care of everything." Still... I missed him. Stupid. Jessica's swagger as she approached us was misplaced confidence—like the kind of arrogance someone clings to when they know they're losing but can't admit it yet. She'd failed twice already. Tried to ruin me. Tried to scare me. Got herself beaten up in the process and only narrowly dodged suspension. And

I was already on my second coffee by the time he walked in. Same stiff shoulders. Same pressed shirt. He looked like a model posing as a businessman—one of those exotic men who aged like fine wine, without even trying. For a second I almost lost my nerve. Almost. But then I remembered Jessica's voice in the bathroom. "If you don't start acting right, I'll just force-buy your mom's stupid little salon and kick you both out. You'll be living in your car." She said it so easily, like she was talking about buying a handbag. Like my life was just another accessory she could throw away. I set my cup down and called out, "Mr. Rivera?" He looked over, blinked like he had to place me, then smiled. "Oh, Katy Schwartz, right? From a year ago when you and Jessica used to hang out. I didn't expect to see you here." I forced a polite little smile. "I didn't expect you to walk in either. Want to join me?" He hesitated, but only for a second. "Sure." As he slid into the booth, his smile dimm