Page 67 of You First
Her journals damned them all, but none more than Gray. Yes, they knew she was so afraid of the world that she almost always avoided leaving home. But what they didn’t know was how she thought of herself as a human failure. How she blamed herself, thinking she held everyone back. How she was certain Gray and Bax and their parents would be relieved to have her gone.
How had he not seen it?
“I was living in New Orleans, letting my parents pay my way. I was trying to crank out this crap first draft — this coming-of-age bullshit — and I saw my sister at least once a week.” Gray shook his head. “I’m supposed to be the observant one.”
Meredith surprised him when she reached across the space between them and took his hand. His lungs filled, and he realized then he’d been holding his breath.
Meredith always made it easier to breathe.
And then she blew him away. “It wasn’t your fault. She knew you were the most observant one,” she said, speaking with conviction. “That’s why she saved her strongest face for you.”
“What?”
She gave his hand a little squeeze. “If you were the most observant, then you were the one she had to fool. Wearing a mask once a week is easy.”
Gray blinked.What the hell?
He pictured Cecilia the last time he’d seen her — a week before she’d died. Sunday dinner in his parents’ formal dining room. She’d been almost giddy about telling him she’d finished readingAnna Karenina.The excitement in her eyes had been so vivid. Almost wild.
Almost wild.
Gray’s eyes shot to Meredith’s. “Are you saying my sister played me?”
He watched her blanch, and then he heard the outrage in his voice that still hung in the air. Gray was about to apologize, but Meredith rallied.
“I’m saying that if what she carried was too much to share, then hiding it from you was her only option.”
Gray stared at her for a long moment, a chill, new and unwelcome, sliding down his spine. “How do you know that?”
She quailed. “I-I mean, I don’t, but—”
The chill spread when Meredith pulled her focus down to his knees.
“Yeah…yeah, you do,” he said, frowning. He covered her hand in his. “No one’s ever said that to me, and that thought has never crossed my mind, but hearing you say it now, I know it’s true.”
He willed her to look at him. The room fell silent around them. Gray reached out and tucked a knuckle under her chin.
“So now I have to ask. How do you know that?”
Under his finger, the pulse in her wrist jackhammered. Her mouth worked, but no words came. He realized without a doubt that they were no longer talking about his sister. His self-blame had deserted him, leaving room for a kind of feral alertness.
“You said wearing a mask is easy. Do you wear a mask?”
Gray watched her surrender, and she met his eyes. “Every single day.”
Now his pulse jumped, and he squeezed her hand. “Why?”
Meredith swallowed. “For the only person who’s paying attention.” Her voice sounded stretched thin, and Gray saw the struggle in her eyes.
“Who’s that?” Gray asked, frowning.
“Oscar.”
God, I’m such an idiot.
“Why—” Gray paused. Was he intruding? Would she resent his asking? His sense of unease was too great. He had to ask. “—why do you have to wear a mask at all?”
“Because he can’t know.” A weary resolve shone in her eyes. She looked so unbelievably tired. “They’re the only family he has, so he can’t know how much I hate living there.” She closed her eyes, and he watched a look of distaste pass over her face before she shuddered.
