Dylan (Inked Brotherhood 4)

Mom busies herself with her roll, buttering it with a trembling hand. At the periphery of my vision, I see the waiter inching away.

“Honestly…” A vein ticks in Dad’s jaw. “I pay for your school, your apartment, your perfumes, your hairdresser and your damn jewelry. I pay,” he jabs a finger at me, “for your every breath. My decisions aren’t good enough for you? Like hell they aren’t.”

“Jonas…” Mother is growing pale.

Jesus.

That’s it, I think. This is when I say goodbye and walk away, gather my stuff and leave this goddamn place.

“Honey, please.” My mother’s voice is a low whine. “Don’t hurt us like your sister did.”

Talk about a low blow. I grit my teeth and resist the painful urge to stand and turn my back to them. Seriously? I just wanted to discuss what I want for once. Not for the first time, I think that best would be to leave college, leave everything and…

“Let’s not argue,” my mom says.

“I’m not the one arguing,” I mutter.

“Your father loves you and wants you to be happy,” she goes on, in the face of all evidence to the contrary. I mean, Jesus, the wine is soaking through my skirt, dripping down my legs, and his voice still echoes in my ears. “In fact,” she sends him a quick look, “he could be persuaded to discuss what you want to do if you come to the Autumn Glitter gala the Jensons are organizing next week, the one we told you about.”

Strangely, my father remains silent, his gaze darting from my mother to me. What the hell is going on?

“Really?” Suspicion tightens my insides, but if that means any sort of real talk, any sort of compromise, meeting half-way… Making my parents happy and also doing what I want… “Fine.”

“You’re coming to the gala?” My father’s look is every ounce as suspicious as mine has to be.

“I’ll come.” I focus on my drenched plate and poke at one of the rolls. “If it means so much to you.”

“It does. I’m glad you changed your mind about it,” he says, grabs his fork and spears a slice of smoked salmon.

I say nothing to that. Like every time, I hope he’ll take a step, too, try to understand me, accept me. Let me be. So I’m going to this damn gala, giving in to his demands like every single time, giving hope a chance.

And like every single time, I fear I’ll be proven wrong.

***

“So, what did your parents say?” Audrey plops her tray on the table in the college cafeteria and slides into her seat, her big green eyes narrowed at me. “How did they take it?”

What to say to that? I swallow a sigh as I take my seat across from her and carefully put my tray down. I stare at the salad, the pasta and dessert I got, and have no idea if I can ever eat all that food. “Do you think I’m too skinny?”

Audrey’s brows shoot up to her hairline. “Sorry, what?”

“Skinny,” I repeat, eyeing my Alfredo pasta as if it’s to blame for everything wrong in my life. “As in, no curves. Ugly skeletal appearance. Maybe I should eat more. Maybe—”

“Tess.” Audrey’s cinnamon brows are now drawn together over her eyes, and her mouth is pressed tight.

“What?”

“You do realize you’re the most beautiful woman I know, right?”

I smile, but it’s half-hearted. “Are you coming on to me, Aud?”

“Nah, I’ve known you for too long. It’d be like incest.”

That makes me laugh, but then I think of Dylan whom I’ve known for just as long, and my throat closes. Because there’s nothing sisterly about my feelings for him.

“In any case,” I croak, “that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do with more generous curves, or bigger boobs.”

“Tess, come on. We’ve talked about this.” Her voice softens. “Your parents… they aren’t you. They try to control you in every way. Don’t let them.”