Devlin shoots out of his chair and spins around, grabbing Shaun by the hair and slamming his face down on the lab table. “What the—”
Before Shaun can finish his protest, Devlin lifts his head and drives a fist straight into his nose. I hear bones crunch. Blood is gushing from his face, and he howls once before Devlin throws him out of his chair onto the floor. Shaun scurries backwards, screaming curses and trying to hold his broken face together.
“She said no,” Devlin growls before he spits on the floor between Shaun’s feet.
Shaun hiccups out a sob.
“Devlin Darling,” the teacher barks. “There’s no fighting in my class.”
“There shouldn’t be any fucking assholes, either,” Devlin says, dropping back into his seat.
“Go to the nurse,” the teacher says to Shaun.
Holy shit. She’s just going to let Devlin sit there like nothing happened.
I’m shaking so hard I think I’ll puke, and I’m glad I didn’t drink the coffee I found in my locker this morning. Did Devlin really beat the shit out of some guy in class just for talking to me? Colt said I was now free of the Darling shadow, that I was nothing to them, neither Dog nor Doll. But obviously I’m not fair game for the average douchebag. Like every time they’ve made rules for me, they’ve left out a key factor, making sure I can never win their fucking games no matter how hard I try to figure them out, play by the rules, or break the rules.
As Shaun stumbles out, Devlin sits facing forward, flexing his hand in his lap—his right hand. His throwing hand.
“Is your hand okay?” I ask quietly.
Devlin doesn’t turn, but I see his shoulders stiffen. “Now you care?” he mutters, his voice edged with bitterness and so quiet I can’t be sure those are his words.
Suddenly, my throat tightens. When my eyes fall to the trail of crimson droplets Shaun left, my stomach lurches. At last, my gaze stops at the splatter of blood on his desk where his nose exploded, and I just can’t. I shoot up from my seat and hurry out, trying not to see the blood, unable to see anything else. I make it to the bathroom before I get sick.
Afterwards, I rinse my mouth until there’s nothing of the sour taste left. I stand in front of the mirror trying to catch my breath. My lipstick is gone, and my mascara runs down my cheeks in black rivulets. I left my bag in class, which means I have no makeup, no way to fix this. A tendril of panic wraps itself around my spine. I can’t go back to class without makeup, without my face on. It’s been four years since I went to school without makeup. It’s my armor. It would be like showing up to school in my pajamas—without a bra.
But as I stare at my bloodshot eyes, tears leaking from them, I’m so fucking done with that. I’m tired of faking it, pretending, and praying with every fiber of my being that someone will approve of me. I’m tired of having to pass an army of inspectors every morning before I leave the house, like I’m a piece of meat about to be shipped to the grocery store, USDA approved for consumption.
I lean over, turn the warm water on, and splash my face, scrubbing until there’s no makeup left to ruin. When I finally stand up and shut off the water, I almost scream. I stumble backward, adrenaline spiking through me. Someone is standing by the door, watching me.
No, not someone.
Devlin.
“What, you’re scared of me now?” he asks.
I grab a handful of paper towels and pat my face dry while my mind reels with possibilities. “Considering you spent the last two months telling me every day that I should be terrified, I don’t think that would be unjustified.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I swallow hard, balling the paper into my fist. “No,” I say at last. “I’m not scared of you. You just startled me.”
We stand there staring at each other for a long minute. “Are you okay?” he asks at last.
“Fine. Just the sight of all that blood…” I break off with a shudder.
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
I gaze into his turbulent blue eyes, the distance between us seeming impossibly far. I can’t take the first step, though. It’s as if we’re both frozen in place, rooted on opposite shores of this impossible divide with no boat to reach the other side.
I don’t know how to answer his question. Am I okay? No, I’m not fucking okay. My life is spinning out of control. My brother is completely changed. My mother escaped us like we were a trap, without so much as a goodbye note, though she did text when she made it home. The rest of my relatives left, including the grandmother I love and the grandfather who I’m pretty sure killed someone while he was here. My best friend outside my family, for some inexplicable reason, wants to be the Darling Dog. And somewhere along the way, I started counting on this insane boy for support, and then I broke his fucking heart—on purpose.
Because that’s what Dolces do.
“I’m okay,” I say, nodding. Because that’s what Dolces say. “You?”
Devlin leans against one of the sinks, and my eyes drink him in, because damn if he isn’t so beautiful it tears me up inside. He rubs his forehead with his thumb before lifting his head to face me. “No,” he says, bracing his hand on the edge of the sink. “Crystal, I fucking… What I did to you in that locker room…” He shakes his head, the torment in his eyes unfathomable. “How can you be okay?”