Chapter 33

Celeste

With the clink of a spoon against her coffee cup, Fiona looked up at me with that ‘tell me everything’ gleam in her eyes.

We were sitting in the local cafe, two steaming cappuccinos between us. Our last class of the day had been canceled, and we had nothing better to do.

Jack wasn’t expecting me home until much later, not that he usually cared all that much what I did with Fiona during my free time so long as I came home in time to make dinner.

“Alright,” Fiona urged, leaning closer, “you've been fidgeting ever since you walked in. What happened at the gym when I was gone the other day?”

Blowing out a sigh, I recounted the entire episode to her—the treadmill, Sabrina’s sinister act, the pain, and of course, Matt’s intervention.

I decided to leave out the part about Matt’s oddly healing touch. It had been a few days since it all happened, and I came to the conclusion that it was nothing. A figment of my imagination, brought on by the trauma of falling off of the treadmill.

Fiona’s eyebrows rose when I mentioned Matt’s comments about my baggy clothes. “Well, maybe he’s right,” she said with a smirk. “Maybe you should try wearing something a bit more fitting. It might help.”

I scoffed. “You sound like him. Are you guys in cahoots or something?”

Fiona’s smirk grew wider. “Come on, Celeste. Just for fun. Let’s go shopping. Let me help you find something that you would like.”

The last thing I wanted was to wear something that revealed more of me. “I don’t know… It just feels weird. And Jack…”

But Fiona was already up, her hand reaching for her bag.

“Don’t even say his name,” she snarled, knocking back the remainder of her cappuccino. When she set her cup down, there was a line of foam on her upper lip, which she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand. “You’re coming with me, like it or not. Let’s go.”

Soon, I found myself surrounded by racks of leggings, sports bras, and workout tops at a store in the local shopping center just outside of town. Fiona’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Each time I tried to decline an outfit, she would hand me another, pushing me gently towards the dressing room.

“Try it,” she would say. “Just to see.”

So, I did.

As I stepped out in the first pair of leggings and a sports bra, Fiona’s reaction was instant. “You look amazing!”

I blushed, peering at my reflection. The leggings hugged my figure, and the sports bra gave me more shape than I had expected. As outfit after outfit went on, I began to see what Fiona saw. Maybe, just maybe, these clothes weren’t so bad.

Feeling a rush of newfound confidence, I chose a couple of outfits.

“Let’s buy these,” I whispered, still a little unsure, “but could I maybe keep them at your place? I don’t want Jack to see.”

Fiona’s face clouded over. “Celeste,” she said seriously, her hand on mine, “you can't keep living like this, hiding from him.”

I swallowed, the weight of her words pressing down. “It’s not that simple, Fi.”

She looked like she wanted to press further, but instead, she sighed, squeezing my hand. “Okay, but promise me you'll think about it.”

We didn’t bring up Jack again, but the tension remained.

If he found out about my tight-fitting new clothes, I would never hear the end of it. They would be thrown in the trash almost as fast as the cornflower blue dress for the ball, and I would be forbidden from ever going to the gym again. It would ruin everything. All of my hard work… It would be pointless.

…

When I arrived home later, my heart raced as I approached the living room.

“Hello?” I called out, dropping my backpack on the floor next to the front door. I had a cloth grocery bag in my hand. “I got the groceries you wanted—”

My voice faltered.

Peeking in, I saw Jack lounging on the couch, a bottle of beer in his hand, with Matt sitting opposite him. I wanted to retreat to my room, but it was too late. Matt glanced up, meeting my gaze for a brief second.

The weight of our shared secret pressed on me, the risk of him mentioning the gym incident anyway despite his promise and potentially enraging Jack.

But to my relief, Matt’s eyes returned to Jack, and he continued their conversation as if he hadn’t even seen me.

Letting out an inaudible sigh of relief, I retreated to the kitchen, my heartbeat a drum against my ribcage. The cloth bag of groceries crinkled in my hands,its weight a tangible reminder of all of the times that I had been forced into this role: Jack’s caretaker.

As I started to unload the bag and lay out the ingredients for dinner on the counter, the muted voices from the living room began to drift into the kitchen.

“...it's nice, you know?” Jack said, a hint of boastfulness in his tone. “Having someone to do all the grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning. Makes life easier. Do you have anyone like that?”

Matt was silent for a moment. “Nah,” he replied, sounding a bit distant. “I do all of my own chores. I prefer it that way.”

Jack scoffed slightly. “Well, to each their own,” he said. “But I’ve got other stuff to do. Someone has to pay for this house, you know? And she doesn’t work, so I might as well make her take care of the shitty day-to-day stuff.”

There was a pause before he continued. “I’ve trained Celeste well.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. ‘Trained’ like I was some sort of pet. I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. There was no response from Matt, but the silence seemed louder than any words.

I felt an urge to peek, to see their reactions. Slowly, cautiously, I turned my head just enough to see through the doorway. My eyes almost instantly locked onto Matt’s. He looked uncomfortable, his gaze filled with an apology he couldn’t voice aloud.

For a second, it felt like the world fell silent. It was just us, the weight of our secrets, and the unspoken words hanging in the air between us.

A rush of embarrassment flooded my cheeks, and I quickly averted my gaze, focusing again on the groceries. The rustling of the items seemed disproportionately loud, each crinkle of plastic or rustle of paper only serving to further prove Jack’s words.

I was, whether I liked it or not, Jack’s servant. I was more his servant than I was his sister, sometimes.

There was no escaping the reality of my situation, not yet, but those stolen glances with Matt were like a bittersweet salve. They promised understanding, even if it came with its own set of complications.

As the last item was stowed away, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the inevitable return to that room.

But then, Jack’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Celeste, when is dinner gonna be ready?” he called out before I could take two steps toward the living room. “We’re starving.”

We’re starving?

My eyes widened slightly. That couldn’t mean…

Matt was joining us for dinner?