Page 17

“She’s at the other end of the house, near me.”

I nodded. Did it hurt that she still wanted to keep her sweeter, younger daughter protected by her maternal presence? Yes, it did, even if I agreed with her assessment.

It was too late to protect me.

My mom fussed about the room, talking about shopping and décor. Once, I’d been the girl who’d have loved this house, her new stepdad, and the chance to start again.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror above the dressing table.

Yes, it was too late to protect me.

I was already damaged goods, after all.

An hour later, I trailed after my mom as she marched around a boutique in downtown Hade Harbor. It was a small Maine town, but it wasn’t a simple one. There was money in Hade Harbor, and Main Street reflected that. I’d spent many days shopping in these little upscale stores when I’d been a teenage mean girl. Ruling with a manicured fist and a boatload of hidden insecurities, I’d clung on to the power and attention any way I could, because without it… I might have just disappeared.

Nowadays, I saw all that pathetic posturing for what it was. A complete waste of time. Desperate. Pitiful.

“Try this, it’s so elegant.” My mother thrust a light-pink dress at the sales assistant dutifully trailing after us.

“And these.” She pressed tailored pants into the assistant’s arms.

“Am I going for a job interview?” I asked as I wandered behind her.

“John thought it might be nice for you to intern a little. Get some professional experience on your résumé.”

“Intern? Where?”

“Sinclair Industries, of course. Where else would you get an internship after taking a year off? Interning at the family business could lead to further opportunities, though.”

I swallowed my protest. Nothing sounded worse, but then, I hated being alone with my own thoughts, so maybe keeping busy was best. I’d been studying business administration and marketing when I’d started at HHU years ago, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I’d always imagined a big city job in a vibrant and exciting marketing department. It all seemed like another world now, but I was halfway through the degree and wasn’t starting again. It would be a miracle just to finish at this point.

“Whatever.”

My mom stared at me. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Come on, let’s try things on, and then we’ll go and see your sister.”

“I don’t have to try it on. It’ll fit. It’s fine.”

My mom stopped and arched an eyebrow. “And if it doesn’t quite fit, or isn’t flattering?”

“I don’t care,” I tossed out, impatient to finally go and do something I wanted to: see my little sister.

My mom sighed heavily, reminding me yet again of what a heavy burden I was to her.

“Really, Selena, you need to get a handle on yourself. You don’t care what you look like, you don’t care what people think. You don’t care to hide your feelings… walking around and letting everyone see what—” She bit the words off, looking shocked at herself.

“See what? What I’ve become? What happened to me? How damaged I am?” I finished for her, unable to stop myself from raking over those raw, bleeding wounds.

She didn’t respond for a moment, composing herself. Instead, she reached out and grabbed a dark navy headband from a stand and put it on my head. She smoothed my hair back, and I had the most out-of-left-field instinct to close my eyes for a second and take the small comfort she offered. A girl having her hair fixed by her mother.

“There you go. It would be so easy to add a little polish. To look elegant again, like you used to. You’re so beautiful, Selena… if only you’d stop hiding it.”

“Maybe I want to hide it, Mom, have you ever thought of that?” I burst out, my emotions finally rising enough to snap.

She paused and then shrugged. “Look elegant then, if you insist on hiding your beauty. Like someone who cares.”

Oh, but I don’t.

“We could get you a whole new wardrobe, nothing revealing or sexy… just understated and clean and coordinated. Elegant.” My mother repeated the word like it might save her from a daughter she no longer understood.