Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Istand in front of the window of a downtown drugstore. I kept walking until I found a street with light enough foot traffic. That’s a sign not many people are inside the store I’m targeting.
This is the perfect place.
And I’m pretty sure nobody recognizes me in my baggy black sweatsuit, with my hair hidden beneath a beanie. I wrapped a scarf around my neck and threw on a pair of fake glasses. It’s a sloppy disguise, but it’ll do.
The longer I stare at the shelves inside, the more the products blur into memories of Theo.
He’s my father.
I lost my mother in a car accident when I was six years old. I was left with him—and he just couldn’t raise one damn kid on his own. So he married another woman. Stacy.
Cinderella’s stepmother was more loving than she was. She died three years ago of a heart attack. Her loveless heart had finally given out.
For some reason, I turn away from the window and retrace my steps back to Jaxon’s apartment.
I drop my head in shame as I enter through the garage, just like I had earlier.
It feels so... villainous. The amount of effort I put into planning the thrill—snatching something off the shelf, tucking it into my pocket, walking out like it’s nothing. Like I got away with it.
Something to put on my face later. Or under my arms.
I’ve taken deodorant.
As I press the elevator button that’ll take me upstairs, I mentally run through the list of other things I’ve shoplifted. Lipsticks. The scarf I’m wearing. Socks. Bookbags. Pencils. Pens.
Tears fill my eyes.
All the things Stacy bought for her biological children—nice, new. And what did I get? Their hand-me-downs. Their leftovers.
I clutch the left side of my chest as the ache of that memory pierces me.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” I whisper.
Please don’t let Jaxon be home yet. I can’t run into him right now.
The elevator doors slide open, and I can barely stay on my feet. I want to collapse. I want to scream so loud the whole world hears me.
I drag myself down the way-too-long hallway. No sound of Jaxon. No trace of his delicious cologne. I keep going until I make it to my bedroom, close the door behind me, strip off everything I’m wearing, and climb into bed.
Now that I’m tucked between crisp sheets and beneath the heavy comforter, I weep.
I see her in my mind. A woman I only remember through photographs—hugging me, kissing my forehead, whispering:
“That’s okay, my little pumpkin patch. You’ll be fine.”
A soft rattle on the door wakes me.
“Zara?” Jaxon calls gently.
I waver between staying quiet and answering.
“Yeah?” I say, putting on my best voice.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
He goes quiet. I don’t think he believes me.
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired. Long day. I need sleep.”
“Okay... well... um... rest well,” he says finally.
“You too,” is all I can come up with.
But after Jaxon leaves, I can’t rest well. I can’t get back to sleep.
What a revelation I had today.
The list of items I’ve stolen... they were things I wanted so badly when I was a kid.
I need help.
But no one can help me. Not with this. I can’t go back and make my dad and stepmother see me. I can’t make my half-siblings care that I wasn’t treated equally.
Why does Trey think he has the right to message me, as if I should care?
Never.
I’ll never lay eyes on my father again.
And after making that vow, I roll onto my side, close my eyes, and finally...
I drift off peacefully.