Oneyear.
I shift, almost dislodging the omega currently sleeping on my chest.
Happy anniversary, baby.
Sighing, I ignore the film playing on my laptop in the background in favour of watching Kenny instead.
She stirs when my lips brush the top of her head, her eyelids slowly sliding open. They flicker around, before she focuses on my face and yawns, showing off her canines.
It reminds me of another day. Another Kenny, snapping at me as I forced her mouth open, checking her like an animal. Fire and fury wrapped up in a bundle of redheaded menace.
Soft fingers travel up my cheek, her spine tensing beneath my touch. I glance down to see her pull her finger away. She examines the end, her brows scrunching at the wetness.
I didn’t realize I was tearing up. I suck in a breath, offering her a small smile when she looks at me. “I’m okay.”
I’m not okay.
I miss Kenny.
And - today of all days - holding a version of her that only exists because of the pain we all put her through… it feels like a punishment the worst kind of evil would welcome.
So close, and yet never close enough.
Not able to talk to her. To listen. To fight. Tolaugh.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wish you knew, Ken.”
Kenny lifts her head at the sound of the door. And then she’s gone, a flash of red darting to Max as he steps through, arms already opening.
His pained eyes meet mine over her head. “Oscar’s heading back to the house. He’s coming back with Theo when he gets off work, if you want to go.”
“Okay.” I force myself up, leaving the laptop in case he wants it. Kenny peeks out at me, her cheeks flushed.
My hand ghosts over her cheek, and then I’m gone.
No, today is not a good day.
Today might be the worst day.
Day 365 – Theo
I’llbeanhour.
Silencing Oscar’s call, I shove my hands into my pockets and keep walking. It’s been months since I visited the high street of Widow’s Peak at all.
Too many eyes. Too much gossip, and pity. Too many damned assumptions, when none of them know a single fucking thing about our situation.
Never seems to stop anyone talking, though.
Case in point—
“Theo, dear!” I half-turn at the shrill call, my jaw setting.
I’m not in the mood for a conversation. “Hi, Alice.”
She puffs, out of breath as she catches up to me. The jowls of her neck wobble in time with her movements like a turkey before Thanksgiving. “Those long legs of yours – goodness, you’ve grown since I saw you. It must have been a year at least—,”
“What can I do for you?” I interrupt without hesitation, my cool tone making her blink rapidly behind her thick, round owlish glasses.
