We both hover awkwardly.
It’s never beenawkwardbetween us. But now there are so many things in the way that it’s hard to see past them. And none of the others are here to help bridge the gap.
“I’ll go up, then.” She hesitates, and turns away. “Thanks.”
I stay where I am until she’s disappeared from view, clutching the laundry.
She finds me in the kitchen a little while later. I stay where I am, prepping the ingredients for tater tot casserole. “Can I get you anything?”
The tension in my spine softens when I hear the refrigerator open. I want her to feel at home here. “Maybe a coffee?”
“Sure.” I flick the machine on, setting down my knife and turning to face her. My hand grip the edges of the kitchen counters. “Max and Jake had to work. They’ll be back tonight.”
Her lips purse. Something flickers in her brown eyes that I can’t decipher. “And you?”
“I’m back in tomorrow. But Oscar will be here for the next few days. And then Max. We worked it out so one of us was always free.”
“I see.” She slips into a seat at the table. “Where do you work?”
My brows dip. It feels like… a trick question. My chest is doing somersaults, as if she’s nervous. Or… pissed. “Construction site.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I carry on making her a coffee. Cream and one and a half sugars, just the way she likes it. Her lip lifts a little when I set the cup in front of her. “You remembered how I take my coffee?”
“I remember everything about you.” Every little thing. Every comment she’s ever made, carefully filed and stored away in my own personal bank of Kennedy Traylor.
Her fingers wrap around the cup. She’s still wearing Oscar’s shirt, the neckline slipping to reveal black jagged lines.
“Do they still hurt?” The words tear from somewhere deep down. “They told me they wouldn’t hurt anymore.”
Her eyes follow mine. And then her finger, tracing her shoulder as she cranes to look. “Not really. It’s almost… like an echo. The pain isn’t there, but I still remember it.”
I slip into the seat beside her, drawing her gaze. “Why didn’t you tell us, Ken? About what he did to you?”
I can feel the effect of my words on her, and I hate myself for it when I feel the pulse, the stab of pain. But I need to know. “Did you think we wouldn’t believe you?”
I stood outside the hospital every day for two weeks. Every time, they turned me away. “I thought you didn’t care. We couldn’t see you. And then they told me you’d been discharged, so I waited.”
Day after day. And every day, my hope faded a little bit more.
Her face turns ashen. Blanching. I slide from my chair, onto my knees beside her. My fingers tangle with hers. “None of it is your fault. But I would have helped, Ken. Unless you thought… that we were likehim.”
The words break before they even leave my mouth. I search her face, looking for an answer I’m not sure I’ll get. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
Kenny stays silent. My head drops. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
A few minutes. That’s all it took. A few minutes of quiet before the thoughts came tumbling out, disrupting whatever peace she’s trying to find. “I’ll leave you be.”
“Wait.” Soft fingers wrap around my arm. “I didn’t think you were like him. Never.”
Her eyes are wet when I look up. “I… I wasn’t in great shape at first. Not for a long time, really. They weren’t sure what was happening, or if they could treat it. Abrams tried everything, but nothing stuck.”
And she was on her own for all of it. I hate that. Even the thought of it threatens to shred me all over again.
She’s not looking at me anymore. She’s somewhere else, her eyes distant. “I knew you had the voicemail. And when your father came, he said that it would be better if you didn’t know. That you were in enough pain.”
I’m going to kill him. My throat tightens. But she carries on, looking down at the table. “You’d lost your brother once, Theo. This would have been – it would have been losing him all over again. And I was already dying. So I thought – maybe – it would be cleaner, for everyone.”
Her voice wavers. “And I was… angry.”
