“Ziggy …” I should probably shut up, but when have I ever been good at that? “I don’t know what I’m doing here. All I know is that when I met you, I could tell you’re a good person. I like when we hang out, and I like every time I learn a new thing about you. It’s fun.You’refun. And for the first time in maybe years, I have someone I can be myself around. There’s no pressure to be cooler or funner or sweeter. I don’t have to impress you with expensive things.” My mind is spiraling, and I have no idea where I’m going with any of this. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you make me feel safe. There’s no judgment.” Slowly, I reach for his hand, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t pull it away. “And I want you to know that you’re safe with me too. Not surewhy, but it feels important to say it. Out loud. You can talk with me, or you can not talk with me, whatever you want. I will never, ever judge you. Ever.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Thank you.”
The weakness to his words flickers my protective side. “Have you always been like this? Afraid to talk.”
His eyes widen, and I don’t break contact as he studies me.
“Did someone make you afraid?”
“Y-yes.”
This time, I’m the one gripping him harder. I had a suspicion, but suspecting something like this and having it confirmed are two wildly different things. I’m trying to keep my anger down, trying to protect this safe space I want for us both, butfuck. “Since you got to Wilde’s End?”
No.
“Before?”
Yes.
Another piece of his puzzle slots into place.
I brush his hair back some more and lean closer. “I’m a pacifist. I like people. I like making people happy. But if I ever meet whoever did this to you … I’ll beat them to a pulp.”
He swallows thickly, and it’s hard not to do the same.
“You didn’t deserve that. And I’m so damn sorry.”
Ziggy’s expression is too hard to read, but whatever is going through his head looks like a struggle. He lifts a shaky hand to my cheek, and his fingers, still cold from outside, scrape over my stubble. I lean into his touch, hoping he feels as close to me as I feel to him.
“Kennedy …”
I almost choke at the sound of my name. “Yeah?”
“You said … earlier … that you … liked our kiss?”
Nerves tickle my gut before he has all the words out. “Yeah. Wasn’t it obvious?”
“I thought you kissed me because you felt guilty.”
Understanding over why he ran away hits hard. I cover his hand with mine. “I would never. The second you started kissing me, it was like I completely forgot how to think. I was only focused on how good it felt.”
The warring emotions in his face slip away as his lips tug up on one side. He opens his mouth twice before he can get the words out on a rasp. “Want to forget how to think again?”
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
ZIGGY
Kennedy’s looking at me like he doesn’t know where those words came from, and I’m feeling the same way. Considering I practiced them over and over before I spoke, I should have been more prepared for how they’d sound out loud, but I’m still in shock.
All I know is that Kennedy does make me feel safe. It’s not the kind of safe that shuts up all of my irrational thoughts, but it is the kind of safe that makes me want to try.
“Did you like kissing me?” he asks.
It was the greatest moment of my life. I have no idea if he interprets my nod that way or not, but an exhale rushes from him.
“Stop me thinking, Ziggy.”
