The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(63)

“Persephone.” I jumped at my mom’s hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you inside.” She draped my coat over my shoulders and spun me around toward the house. Reece was gone. That was what I’d wanted, right? I hadn’t even wanted him to come, so why had I burst out the front door and chased him down the block?

Inside the house, she took the coat off and hung it up in the closet right beside where Reece’s hung. My nostrils flared and I let out a slow deep breath. Get ahold of yourself. Calm down. It will be okay. Yes, he left—that’s fine. He was going to leave anyway. This is just a little earlier than expected.

“I’ll get you some tea to warm you up.” And then she was gone like a ghost in her own house. The perfectly straight picture frames lined the walls, each one of our family looking like a sad Victorian-era transplant. White walls, beige carpet, beige furniture. The walls of the box were closing in with each passing second. I can totally still breathe just fine in this beige prison. I don’t need the distractions anyway. I’ll be fine.

“These are the kinds of friends you make at school down there? And you wonder why we want you back home. You can’t be trusted to make important decisions on your own.” He must have kept talking because the drone of his voice and the barbs he slung kept coming, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. There was only the pounding of my pulse and the shallow breaths I gulped down.

A thin chain slid out of the death grip I had on what Reece had passed to me. Opening my hand, I stared down at the silver jewelry. A circular pendant lay in the middle of the tangle of the chain. Flipping it over, I sucked in a shuddering breath and read the words: You are enough.

They slammed into my head, so hard I was surprised I managed to stay on my feet. And then I did something I’d never done before. I left while my dad was in the middle of one of his diatribes. I grabbed Reece’s jacket out of the closet and climbed the stairs two at a time. Closing my door, I sat on the edge of my bed.

With my knees pulled up to my chest, I stared out the window. The snow was picking up even more now. Was he warm? Had he gotten a taxi? They’d be hard to come by on Thanksgiving. How long was it until he left the city? Why hadn’t I gone with him?

The gentle knock on the door took me out of my contemplative spiral. Mom poked her head in, holding a tray with a single-serve teapot, milk, and sugar.

“Sorry I didn’t get up here sooner. Your father needed a little calming.” Her small smile didn’t reach her eyes. It almost never did when it came to anything to do with my dad.

“Was it always like this, Mom?”

She put the tray down on my desk and went about making the cup of tea. “Your father has never been a warm man, but brilliant men seldom are.”

“Was he like this when you met?”

She turned, and this time the smile did reach her eyes, but it was still tinged with sadness at the edges. “He was absolutely amazing in classes. He looked so nice in his blazers, and all the girls had crushes on him.” Her spoon clinked off the side of the cup. “I was a bit of a wild child at times, like your Aunt Sophie. All the girls wanted his attention, but for some reason, he chose me. It’s only natural that you change yourself somewhat for someone you care about.” She held out the teacup on a saucer for me.

“But if they care about you, wouldn’t they want you to be who you are?”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a testament to just how frazzled she was. A hair out of place was a massive breach of the Alexander family expectations. “Sometimes they want to make you better.” The corners of her lips turned up, but I couldn’t even call it a smile. “I need to go clean up downstairs.”

“I’ll come help.”

“No, you enjoy your tea. Let me know when you’re finished and I can come get that.”

I took a sip of the scalding hot tea. “I’ll bring it down.”

“No, don’t do that. I’ll come get it. Your father’s still downstairs.”

She rearranged the items on the tray.

“I see.” Ah, so this was her way of telling me I’d effectively been banished and had to stay in my room. It was like when I was little and they’d send me up without anything to keep me occupied, all the books and paper taken out, my violin locked up. It was the worst thing you could do to a kid with an overactive mind, trap them in a space with nowhere for their energy to go, nowhere for their mind to wander or escape. That had been when I’d started the braiding.

She closed the door behind her, whisper quiet, the same way she always did everything, never making a sound or disturbing anyone.

Even with the heat turned up, my room felt colder than ever. I expected to see my breath suspended in the air in front of my face. Setting my tea down, I picked up Reece’s coat from the edge of the bed. I should have left. Why had I stayed? I didn’t want to leave my mom, yes, but more than that, obeying was ingrained in my brain, seared in through years of always doing what was expected of me. Going behind their backs—behind my dad’s back—to do anything that went against his vision for who I’d become was simply out of the question.

Putting on Reece’s coat, I lay down on my bed, the quilted blanket on top cool against my cheek. I shoved the arms up so my hands were free. Sticking my hand in the pocket, I pulled out his gift.

I stared at the pendant in my palm. The cool metal heated in my hand and I closed my fist around it, holding it up to my mouth. My shoulders shook and I didn’t even try to blink back the tears. What would be the point when I’d broken my own heart? The words inscribed on the tiny silver circle were ones I’d never believed, and I didn’t know if I could now. You are enough. So simple, just three little words.