Broken Empire A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance - Callie Rose Page 0,16
him see through my eyes to the understanding beneath. There was a kind of freedom, an anonymity, in having almost no one in the world care about you. But there was also a desperate sort of loneliness, a feeling like being a corporeal ghost.
Mason wasn’t alone though. There were people in the world who cared about him, whether or not his dad was one of them.
There was no way I communicated even half of what I was thinking through the look I gave him, but whatever he saw in my face made his own expression soften a little, made warmth creep in at the edges of his eyes.
When I turned to Cole though, his bright blue irises were completely shuttered.
“It’s fine.”
Goddammit. No, it’s not.
Whether his father was beating him worse than before or not at all right now, things in the Mercer household were definitely, unequivocally not fine.
But he wouldn’t talk about it. I could see it in the stubborn set of his jaw. And I could understand it, even if I wished I didn’t. He knew I knew about his home life—in fact, I was sure every person in this room knew. But that didn’t make talking about it any easier.
I wanted to know though. Not that there was much I could do besides offer him my support, and he had that anyway. But I needed to know.
“Cole—” I started, but I was interrupted by the buzz of my phone on the mattress beside me. I cursed under my breath and reached for it, swiping to answer without looking closely at the number. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Talia Hildebrand?”
The male voice on the other end of the line was pleasant and warm, but I didn’t recognize it.
“Yes, it is.”
The guys all leaned in, and Cole took two steps away from the door like he might attack my cell phone if it tried anything shady. I shook my head to let them know it was okay.
“Wonderful. This is Gregory Nichols from the Pacific Contemporary Ballet. Is this a good time to talk?”
All the sound in the room seemed to disappear as if it’d been sucked into a vacuum. My grip on the phone tightened as blood rushed in my ears.
“Um, hi. Yes, now is fine.”
My stomach clenched so tight it hurt, and my chest felt like a heavy weight was bearing down on it. I wanted to stop him, to cut him off before he could say anything else. But I couldn’t make myself say the words.
“Fantastic.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “I’m calling because we really enjoyed your audition piece, and we’d like to offer you an ensemble spot in our corps de ballet. If I remember correctly, you said you’re finishing up school, but you’d be available to start in the spring after graduation, is that right?”
“Yes.” My lips moved automatically, before my brain could stop them. When I spoke again, the words grated against the lump in my throat. “I mean… no.”
“Oh.” He sounded surprised.
“I—I was in a car accident. I wish I could accept, but I—”
My words broke off. If I kept talking, there was a good chance I’d cry, and I couldn’t let myself do that.
“Oh.” Sympathy colored his tone this time, and his voice softened as he added, “I’m so very sorry to hear that, Talia. I hope you’re all right.”
“Thank you.”
My voice was tight, and as I swallowed, I realized I was surrounded. The Princes had all gathered close to me on the bed, each one touching me somewhere, their gazes locked on my face. I drew in a breath, forcing myself to hold it for a beat before letting it go.
“Thank you, Mr. Nichols. I really appreciate the offer. And I really wish I could take it.”
“I understand. I wish you a speedy recovery, and I hope you’ll audition for us again if you ever—” He stopped and started again. “Well, I hope we’ll see you again.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Goodbye, Talia.”
The line went dead, and I let the phone slip onto the mattress.
A sharp pain flared in my leg, and I didn’t know if it was real or imagined.
My body suddenly felt wrecked, useless, and I shifted on the bed, as if I could somehow escape the confines of my physical form.
I did it. I got in.
The pride that flared at that thought was eclipsed almost immediately by an overwhelming sense of loss, as though I were gazing through a window at the life I could’ve had.