“I’m not happy.” I stared at him, suddenly unafraid, despite the way his brows lowered and his eyes only grew darker. “If you hate me because I’m happy, then you’re just…” I shook my head. “You’re just completely fucking stupid.” “What?” “I’m not happy, Paxton.” I pointed my spatula at him, my voice wobbling as the words that I’d kept barricaded inside of me since the day my sister died barreled to the front. “I’m absolutely fucking miserable.” My hands were shaking, shaking, shaking. “Now, go wash your fucking hands.” Paxton did as he was told.
