I glared at him a second longer, then tossed him to the side, making him stumble backward.

“I’m in, Crowne,” he yelled at my back. “I’m finally in.”

Fuck him.

Fuck that dog.

Fuck this family.

I pounded down the hallway until his choking laugh dissipated. He was like Story, like everyone else, a user. I stopped short a few halls away from my wing. That wasn’t Story.

Fuck.

Story wasn’t that asshole. She wasn’t malicious. Story wasn’t conniving. She would set herself on fire to keep someone warm. Which meant my brutally honest nun had lied.

I tangled my hands in my hair again, catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror. My blond hair was wild, unkempt. My bow tie was undone, hanging askew off one side. Lipstick stained my shirt from when Lottie had rested her head on my shoulder while dancing.

“I’m sorry,” I said aloud to my reflection.

It sounded weak.

“I’m sorry?” I tried again.

Worse.

I worked my hands through my hair viciously, walking back and forth.

“I didn’t really mean to get her off—it just happened,” I laughed weakly. “She fell on my fingers.”

This is a fucking joke. There’s nothing I can say to her to make up for what I’d done. I tried to prove to myself that I’d be fine without her. That I didn’t need her. And instead all I fucking did was prove the opposite.

I dropped my hands on a sigh. “I want you a lot more than I should, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do come Christmas.”

“What are you doing?”

“Fuck.” I jumped at Gemma’s voice, finding my oldest sister with her arms folded. She’d changed out of her ball gown into sweat pants and an oversized sweatshirt but her rose gold hair, so similar to mine, was still done up for the party.

“What does it look like?” I snapped.

“Uh…it looks like you’re apologizing to yourself. And complimenting yourself. You really take narcissism to the next level. Be sure to avoid open pools of water.”

“Saw the Finsta hashtag,” I said. “Pretty gross, even for you. Didn’t think you fucked dogs.”

She glared. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

I don’t know a lot about what goes on between my sisters. There are three Crowne children, and two pedestals. My mom gave me one, and pitted Gemma and Abigail against each other for the other. The dirty secret? My mom already gave it to Gemma.

“You live in the World of Grayson. You don’t know what happens outside of it.”

I laughed. “And you are so empathetic to others?”

“I know that Abigail loves her dog, and he loves her. I know that her fiancé is a total psycho.”

“Anyone with two eyes can see that.”