Page 58 of No Rhyme or Roughing
“You stole her voice. For years. And now, she thinks she doesn’t deserve to have one, that no one will have any interest in what she says, thinks, feels. But she’s wrong. Her own parents might not care about who she is, but she matters.” His eyes found mine and held. “She matters a whole hell of a lot.”
Tears stung my eyes. “Fuck.” I wiped them away, whispering to myself. “Get it together, Valentine.”
But I couldn’t.
Mom and Dad looked at Ryder like his words made no sense, neither appearing chastised. Instead, Mom straightened her shoulders indignantly.
When she started speaking, I bolted.
Sliding from my chair, I ran through the kitchen where untouched pies sat on the counter. I stopped just long enough to snag the pumpkin double-layer pie Rowan had made for us before leaving for a differentThanksgiving. It wobbled in my hands as I sprinted into the entryway, and I managed not to drop it as I yanked the door open and dug into my pocket for my keys.
Inside my car, I let the tears waterfall over my cheeks while I leaned down and scooped up a bite of pie with my tongue. A few more bites—eating like a dog—calmed me down enough to turn on the car.
When I got home, this entire pie was a goner.
And then, I’d try not to think of them again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RYDER
The house was quiet when I got back to Alameda. I’d left Teddy at my brother’s place after everything blew up. They were finishing the wine. His parents left soon after Sydney, and my mom stayed only long enough to clean up. Then, Sam and Frankie grabbed armfuls of bottles and headed for the living room. But I hadn’t wanted to stay.
Not when I thought about Sydney alone, upset. Not when I finally saw for myself what her life had been like since I left for college all those years ago.Lonely.That was the best word for it. And small. Her mother had tried to shrink her daughter, to make her as little as she felt.
It wasn’t okay.
Sydney might be mad at me for everything I’d said, for talking to her parents like that, but I didn’t regret it. Not for a moment.
I walked through the dark house toward the sound of Pink blaring through the speakers. Up the stairs, without turning on the lights, I entered into the hallway where a glow peeked out from under a closed doorway.My doorway.I still didn’t know how long she planned to stay before her next job, but she could have my room forever if she wanted—if she just didn’t leave.
I knocked.
“Teddy, if that’s you, go away,” came a muffled voice.
“And if it’s not?” I asked, resting a hand on the doorknob.
“I don’t have an extra fork.”
That made no sense, but I took it as an invitation and opened the door.
Sydney sat cross-legged on the bed in black leggings and a giant Guardians sweatshirt that hung off one bare shoulder.No bra.Fuck me.
She lowered a fork from her mouth, and my eyes tracked the movement to the half-eaten double-layer pumpkin pie in her lap.
I gasped in mock horror. “You know they’re looking for that at Sullivan’s right now, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “They’ll survive.”
There was a smear of pumpkin on her cheek and in a stray lock of hair that had broken free of her hasty braid.
I leaned in the doorway, crossing one ankle over the other as I watched her. She looked… sad. But in an oddly accepting way, like this was just who she was—the girl who spent Thanksgiving eating an entire pie in bed.
She closed her eyes for a long moment, and I worried she’d start crying. She didn’t. Instead, when she looked at me, there was determination in her gaze. She held up the fork and a piece of crust broke off into her lap. It was oddly charming.
“Bite?” she asked quietly.
There was no leaving her now. I stalked toward the bed, leaned over it, and wrapped my lips around the fork. I didn’t even taste the pie as I watched her swallow thickly, her eyes never leaving mine.
