“Were you?”
Knowing that what I’m about to say will sound stupid makes it really hard to get the words out. “A bit.”
“Ziggy—”
I wave my hand to cut him off. “It’s not your fault. And I got myself out of it.”
“Of course you did.” His smile spreads, warm and happy. “You can do anything.”
That’s a reach. Anything except speak up for myself, and be social, and confront my parents over everything they put me through.
“Stop doubting,” he tells me. “Whatever happened to you wasn’t your fault.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I knowyou.”
I’m frozen under his gaze, but I fight my instinct to retreat and wriggle out of my shoes instead. Then I crawl over next to him and rest my head on his broad chest.
“I don’t think my parents wanted to be bad people,” I whisper. “They worked really hard, but I don’t think they ever planned to have a kid come into their lives and ruin it all for them.” It’s easier to talk with my face buried into the cotton of his T-shirt.
“It was still a choice they made.”
“Maybe. I was on my own a lot. Mostly left up to my own devices. When they weren’t working, they were sleeping. When they weren’t sleeping, they were yelling. At each other, but mostly me.”
Kennedy’s arms tighten around me. “That’s fucked-up. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I thought I did for a long time. If I wasn’t silent at home, I was punished. If I was silent at school, I was bullied.”
“I wish I’d known you then,” he murmurs. “I would have beat up every one of them.”
He wouldn’t have, and I like that about him. Kennedy is a good person who wants good things for people. Including me. “I’m getting there,” I whisper. “I might have needed a savior then, but I don’t now.”
His chuckle is warm under my ear. “That’s lucky. Because I think you’re the one saving me.”
Him?
I push up onto my elbow to see his face. Expressions give away more than people want them to, and when I look at Kennedy, all I can see is defeat.
“From giving up on people.” He manages a bitter laugh. “Because I have to say, some days, I am really, really close.”
I’ve never seen this side of Kennedy before.
“Yourparents, Ziggy? How is that fair? You were a kid. And then my parents, and my brothers, and the kids you went to school with … some days, I worry that we’re all put on Earth to make things worse for each other.” Kennedy reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You remind me how things are supposed to be.”
With a sigh, I sit up and cross my legs, then lift my hands, splay out my fingers, and move both hands away from each other in a half circle.
He’s frowning, but he sits up, too, and copies the movement. “What is that?”
I do it again and point at him.
“Me?” He looks excited as he repeats the motion. “What does it mean?”
“Sunshine. You’ve always been my sunshine. So you can’t give up. Because I need you too.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
