play, I make an excuse, anything to get away from him. After seeing him with Holly, I suddenly feel sad and angry. The emotions are rioting inside me, demanding to be heard—or more accurately, felt.
“I’m going to see if your mom needs help with anything.”
I don’t bother waiting for his response. I bypass table after table of whispers that cling to me like they’ve dug their talons into my flesh. Despite all that, I’m holding my head high even when my chest feels like it’s going to explode at any given second. Aurora’s face alights with surprise when I step into the kitchen, a perpetual redness coating my cheeks.
“Selene, is something wrong?” she asks, sounding truly concerned. As if she cares.
I shake my head. “Everything is fine. I wanted to see if you need help with anything.”
She pauses, studying me for a few suspended seconds, warmth seeping into her gaze. “Here, why don’t you help me bring these trays out there? And thank you, Selene. I appreciate it.”
I begin dropping off the glass trays of various foods to the table they have set up out there on the patio. My feet falter as I’m bringing out the last tray. It’s heavier than the rest, the glass still unbelievably warm against my palms from the food inside. Holly is off to the side of the table with her group of friends.
“We’re going out on a date. I knew time wouldn’t change anything between us. We’re still as good now as we were then,” I hear Holly gloat to Reina. My stomach cramps and pain shoots through my chest. It wraps cold and savage around my heart. A sick sensation brews in my gut.
The glass tray I’m holding tumbles from my hands and falls at my feet, shattering against the pavement. Everyone stops what they’re doing to look at me, eyes wide, judging me. My face flames, the attention making me uncomfortable. My chin trembles, and I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to stifle the tears.
I will not cry here.
I will not cry here.
My baby comes up running to me, stopping before the mess. “What happened, Mommy?” she asks in her sweet little voice.
I sniff past the pressure in my nose, and I force a smile for her sake, avoiding everyone’s probing gaze. “It just slipped from my hands, that’s all, baby.”
I bend to start cleaning the mess of glass and splattered food. I rush to do it, hate feeling like I’m under a microscope of this whole damn town. Why won’t everyone just look away? I glance up quickly, and my stomach twists with anguish when I see how close Holly is now standing to End. When he even got near her, I don’t remember, but seeing them so close, after what I just heard, it has my heart shriveling. She’s laughing under her breath, resting her hand on his firm bicep, obviously finding my clumsiness hilarious. My stomach revolts, and I fear I might vomit right here in front of everyone.
Pain slices through my hand, and a sharp gasp suddenly falls past my lips. Luna makes a mewling sound before yelling, “Oh no!”
While cleaning, I accidentally cut myself on the shards of glass. Blood drips from the wound, stinging as the open air hits it. I hurry to cover my finger, not wanting to freak her out. Endymion comes running over, leaving Holly, obviously thinking something happened to Luna instead of me. When he sees the blood, he scoops up Luna, trying to distract her. I blow out a sigh and cradle my finger to my chest, heading inside.
In search of the bathroom or a first-aid kit, I spot Freya, who is no longer glaring at me, but this time, staring after me with a look of pity in her eyes. I find I much prefer the anger.
“Down the hall, on the right,” she calls out to me.
I keep my hand cradled to my chest, opening up drawers in the bathroom, looking for something I can cover this with. I’m not sure a Band-Aid will hold, but I’ll take what I can get. I opt to wrap it in toilet paper for now while I search for what I need.
I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that I don’t hear the footsteps until his voice echoes from beside me, making me squeak in surprise.
“Let me take a look,” End says, glancing down at my hand pointedly. The blood is already soaking through the botched toilet paper