(Scarlett’s POV)
An hour after Jasper leaves, the birthday cheers around me quiets down.
I retreat to a corner, taking out the gift Jasper handed me. It’s light, fragile.
Inside the box is a necklace, silver chain. But the charm—my baby tooth. My childhood tooth, the one James had pulled out.
I must have been seven. I remember sitting on the edge of the tub, James standing over me, nervous and sweating, a length of pink thread in his hand.
“Ready, Scar? One quick tug, like ripping off a band-aid. You won't even feel it.”
“I’m scared, Daddy! Don’t do it!”
“Don’t be scared, I’ve got you.”
I press my fingers against my lips, tasting salt. They always do this. First abandon me, then when I try to cut them off, they try to force themselves back into my life.
I can’t help but wonder. I
