“How?” I whisper.
“Because you’ve always been more than enough for me, and I think deep down you know that you’re enough for yourself, too.”
My shoulders shake. Damn Jinx for opening this long-sealed well. I thought I’d healed the heartache of home by leaving, but it turns out I just learned how to confine it—out of sight and out of mind. The ultimate mask is my channel. Because if my subscribers wanted more of me, it validated that I was worth wanting, didn’t it?
Shit.
The tears come faster, and my chest tightens with the horrific realization that if I keep this up, I’ll be snotting all over him in no time. “I didn’t bring any tissues, damn it.” I laugh through thetears at the absurdity of it. “Didn’t think you’d be taking me out to make me cry.”
His chest bounces against me, a deep chuckle caught in his throat. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I tried to impress a girl.”
I smack his forearm. “Try harder.” My tears turn my laugh into a kind of choking noise, which sets me off worse.
Jinx crushes me against him, gently rocking us side to side while I stare ahead at the placid river, my snorts calming to a series of stuttered exhales. The water knows no different—just continues to babble along as though nothing is amiss. I wish I were more like that: consistent and steady.
But then again, if I were, I’d be just like him.
The reason for my tears.
My father.
NINETEEN
JINX
I holdKyra until she relaxes in my arms, her breath evening out as the sun all but disappears behind the horizon, her weight growing heavier against me with each minute that passes. She doesn’t say much, but I don’t need her to. I just need her to let go of all the shit she holds on to. To throw it in the river like the stones I tossed in when we got here, and let the current sweep it all away.
There’s no time limit on healing. I’ll wait with her as long as she needs.
“I guess I should get home soon.” Kyra lifts a hand before us, the outline gray and blurry in the lowlight. “Mom will wonder what’s happened to me.”
“Where did you tell them you’d be?”
She turns in my arms, pulling herself free in the process. “Said I was taking some measurements at the house.”
“Yeah.” I look up at the night sky. “You might struggle to say you were doing that still if you stay out any later.”
“Right?” She hugs herself, rubbing her arms to warm up.
“Do you feel any better, though?”
She glances at the water, the spill of moonlight through the trees tracing her cheekbone and the fine lines of her neck. “I think it did, actually.” She looks back at me. “As heavy as it feels to bring everything up to the surface, I also feel less full, if that makes sense.”
“I think so.”
She reaches up and pushes my tangle of hair away from my eyes. “Who taught you to do that? To sit with your feelings.”
“Chaos.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Huh.”
“He’s full of good advice,” I explain. “Never does any of it himself, though.”
“Typical male.”
The air feels lighter between us. A damn sight better than it was when we left the antique shop. “I’m not ignorant, Kyra.”
She frowns a little, and the moon catches in her eyes as she looks up at me.
