Page 264 of Wicked Brutal

“I stopped.” A tear slides down her cheek.

Penny points. “No, you didn’t.”

“That was leftover.”

Becca dissolves into laughter against my shoulder. And somehow, with Dad’s fingerprints still wrapped around my arms, I’m laughing too.

By the time Darla packs everything away, we’ve fixed our makeup and Becca has repeated good fucking day enough times that it’s officially become policy.

Cat takes one look at my face before we leave. “Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit.”

She takes my makeup bag from my purse, because apparently arguing with Catherine O’Farrell is pointless once she’s decided to do something. Penny leans against the dresser while Cat fixes the makeup my crying ruined.

Her fingers are gentle when she blends concealer over the fading bruise on my face. The cut on my lip stays — there’s nothing we can do about that without making it look worse. The bruises on my arms disappear beneath my sweater again. For now.

Twenty minutes later, we walk into the boutique. It looks more like a hotel than somewhere people buy prom dresses — marble floors, chandeliers, fresh flowers, sparkling water with fruit floating in it. The downstairs is busy enough that I recognize a dozen girls from Edgewood before we reach the stairs. Nobody looks twice at us.

Our consultant takes us up to a private suite with a small sitting room, couches, enormous mirrors, racks of dresses, and one large dressing room through an open doorway. The door closes behind us.

Penny looks around. “Okay.” Becca starts going through the dresses. Penny points at me. “We already established you’re going to prom.”

“I remember.”

“Today we’re finding the dress.” She pulls one from the rack.

I stare at it. “That has feathers.”

“They’re tasteful.”

“Where?”

Cat laughs. And then, for a while, everything is normal. Gloriously, ridiculously normal.

We try on dresses. We make fun of dresses. Penny puts me in something covered in so many crystals I look like a chandelier. Becca finds pale blue and comes out looking so beautiful Cat stares at her for three seconds before pointing at the dressing room.

“No.”

“What?”

“Go back.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re irritating me.”

Becca laughs. “That isn’t a reason.”

“It is to me.” Cat tries on black, of course, and steps out looking like she should have a knife strapped to her thigh.

Penny looks her over. “Kaid’s going to be insufferable.”

“He already is.”

“You encourage his worst qualities.”