Perfectly Toxic (Sterling Shore 9)

It’s not a big deal. We’ll recover, and we’ll be fine. I mean, so what if I maybe think I’m falling in love. Okay, so what if I’m already so in love that it’s suffocating me to hold it in? It doesn’t mean I have to ruin what we have by scaring him off with that confession, right?

Instead of letting my head roll around on my shoulders, weighted down by the constant stream of paralyzing fears, I head inside, carefully avoiding the kitchen where I know Ethan is.

My hand hits a door hinge, and I curse as pain shoots through my hand. Stupid distracted head. Shaking off the pain, I decide to hide for a second until my head isn’t swimming with useless thoughts.

When I walk into the bathroom, I shriek, because Brin is sitting down and pissing. “Sorry!”

“It’s not like you don’t have all the same parts,” she points out, sounding annoyed.

“Okay… What’s up?” I ask her as she stands and flushes.

“Nothing. Just family things. My parents actually tried to get Rye to come over and invest in my father’s company. Can you believe that? They disowned me for not taking on a career they approved of, but found out Rye is loaded, so now they want a family dinner? Unbelievable.”

I have no idea what that’s like, because my family wouldn’t give a damn if I married a prince. They’d only care if I suddenly became the daughter they’d always envisioned—turtlenecks and long skirts and all.

“If it makes you feel any better, my mother called me a worthless Jezebel before she told me to never come back.”

Her eyebrows go up.

“What’s a Jezebel?” Brin asks, seriously confused.

“Biblical reference. It’s my mother’s nice way of calling me a whore.”

I shrug, unaffected. It stopped bothering me a really long time ago.

Brin nods in understanding, but her eyes widen when she glances down at my hand.

“Holy shit! You’re bleeding!”

Cursing, I jerk my hand over the sink when I see all the red that has dripped from my hand to the pretty white tile on the floor.

“Do you need stitches? That’s a lot of blood!”

“No, it’s just a tiny cut,” I tell her, guessing it came from hitting the hinge of the door. Must have snagged a splinter or a screw or something, because the scratch is seriously miniscule.

“But… But… All the blood,” she says, staring at the small cut like it’s impossible.

“I bleed like stuck sow on a hot summer day from the tiniest of things… You should see me on my period,” I joke, even though it’s a bit gross…

The color suddenly drains from my face, and I start doing math in my head. No. No. No. When was the last time I had a period? I mean, it’s not like they’re frequent, thanks to my shot…

When was the last time I had my shot?

“Bella? Are you sure you’re okay? That’s a lot of blood and you look really pale.”

A sick feeling rolls around in the pit of my stomach, and I drop to the floor hard enough to send a shot of pain from my ass to my spine.

“Bella!” Brin shrieks, dropping down beside me and staring into my eyes. “Bella, please answer me.”

I try to, but no words form, because a wretched, gnawing sensation of ultimate dread is choking me, strangling me with a suffocating possibility I never thought I’d be faced with. In my head, I know I’m overreacting, but it’s like I can’t shake the sick feeling that I’ve really fucked up.

Allie is suddenly in front of me, cupping my face in her hands. Brin must have gotten her, even though I don’t remember her leaving the room. My head is a fog, but it’s all a blur. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear the words she’s saying.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp pain stinging the side of my face, and all sounds and colors come back into focus as my jaw aches. Brin is dancing from one foot to another while shaking her hand like it hurts.

“Why the hell did you slap her?” Allie demands.

“Because that’s what they always do in the movies when someone is catatonic,” Brin whimpers, still clutching her hand like it hurts.