“It’s done. It was not my intention to hurt you, or for you to develop feelings for me—”

“Shut up. You’re a fucking liar. Do you even see yourself? I know you have feelings for me. What the fuck happened to you?” She wipes her cheeks, and her eyes search mine.

My head is pounding. “You’re wrong. I’m a one-person show. Your mother is the same. Together, we make sense.”

“She fucked my high school boyfriend. She’s like a black widow. How can you stand to be inside…” Her eyes widen as if she’s picturing us together.

“I did not set out to hurt you.” I turn.

“Well, you did,” she screams at my back.

“Stay in your room, Raven.” I shut her door, the music and laughter guiding me toward my bedroom.

Because this is it.

This is who I truly am. Leaning against my door frame, I steady myself and watch Rachel. Glass of champagne in one hand while she flicks her tongue over Emily’s tight nipples. Emily’s eyes dart to mine. Smiling, she parts her legs, showing me her wet cunt.

Nothing. I feel nothing. I grind my teeth at how fucking pathetic this is.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” she coos as Rachel raises her head.

“Jett, baby, finally. I was beginning to wonder if you got lost.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. There is no sparkle, no deep pools of sapphires to lose myself in. I never got her sapphires, never caressed her skin with her wearing nothing but them.

I never did a lot of things…

I push off the doorway and untuck my shirt, walking farther in. Rachel’s hands move inside Emily’s legs.

“I got her all ready for you,” she says, watching me unbutton my shirt and toss it to the floor.

“Get up,” I grunt.

Emily leaps up, making room for me to sit. Her scent is not as repulsive as Rachel’s flowers, but it’s not what I seek.

Like a king, I sit and let their hands touch me while I wait.

One.

Two.

Three.

I look up.

She stands in the doorway. Our eyes collide, and her pain almost drowns me, but that can’t happen—I’m already dead.

And now, it’s done.

Chapter Twenty-Five

RAVEN

This can’t be happening. My mind scrambles to my earlier phone conversation with Cher, when she told me this would happen, that I never should have told him I loved him if I didn’t want it to end.

But I can’t pretend that I’m okay with him being with my mom. He needed to know.

“I did not set out to hurt you,” he says.

This might be the moment I finally snap. All my life, everyone has picked my mother and now, even he has.

He picked her.

Her!