Hard truth?
A part of me already had, even after what had happened.
And I’d wonder what his secrets were forever, if I left or never let him explain. So, if I wasn’t going anywhere, which I’d accepted I wasn’t, then I needed to give him a chance to share.
“I’m ready to listen. If you’re still offering.”
“Yes.” He glanced back inside his room before quickly returning his gaze to me, like I might disappear if he looked away for too long.
After grabbing something from inside his room, he led me down the stairs and out the front doors. Back to his motorcycle. And only the promise of hiswholetruth got me on the bike with him again.
He drove carefully toward our destination, even more so than he’d done the first day on the bike.
I refused to hold onto him as tightly as I had that day. Still, I appreciated how he let me maintain the illusion of putting distance between us. Though, the bar on what I’d accept had been raised too high for that to be enough.
Anxiety rolled through my gut as I thought about it. It played on a loop as we drove to wherever he was taking me.
Because a line had been crossed. One that, no matter how much I wanted to step back over, I wasn’t sure we could. Not until I had the truth. And I hated that, but I refused to let it cloud my judgment.
I needed to understand—what he’d faced, why he’d pulled me into this—or I needed to keep my distance. Maybe even accept his offer and walk away, if there really wasn’t an explanation. But the thought of doing that still tore me in two.
There had to be more to the story.
I fought like hell to hold onto that faith, and slowly tightened my grip on his waist as we drove.
When the trees cleared, he parked the bike, and we walked a short distance from the motorcycle.
Headstones came into view.
Various shapes and sizes, some simple and some ornately carved. Most contained small planters and vases filled with flowers. Others looked as though they hadn’t been visited in a long time.
I tensed and stopped walking.
It was the first time I’d been to a cemetery since my father died, and maybe Kingston couldn’t have known that, but I still froze. “Why are we here?”
“What I need to share with you…this is part of it. It’s the only place I can fully explain.” He took in my posture, my rigid spine, and understanding dawned. “But we don’t have to go in there, Quinn.”
He gripped my shoulders and blocked my view of the grounds by stepping in front of me.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. You showed up, and I just wanted to give you the whole truth, but I should have considered—I can figure out another way, if you don’t want to go inside. It’s just…if I’m going to tell you everything, this is part of it. Letting these secrets go…I have to do this, too.”
I searched for a sign of what he meant, but I couldn’t guess what, or who, waited inside the cemetery. Torn by the pain in my heart over where things stood between us, and the desire to avoid the reminder of my dad, I stared out at the cemetery.
“You lost someone you loved, too?” I swallowed. “They’re…in there?”
He bobbed his head from side to side, as if to say yes and no, like I’d seen him do before. “It was a long time ago. But I wasn’t ready—” His throat bobbed. “I wasn’t ready to let go, but I think it’s finally time. No matter what you decide, I think—IknowI need to stop holding onto the past now. I need to let these secrets go, and…”
Kingston glanced over his shoulder at the cemetery, and his expression contained so much grief. It etched into every sharp edge and line, carved into the corner of his mouth. As if it had never truly left.
“I need to say goodbye.”
I drew in a deep breath.
If I wanted us to move forward, then the fear in my gut—the thought of reliving my dad’s funeral—I’d have to fight through it. And my dad wasn’there. This place had no ties to him.
So, I believed I could handle it.
Plus, in a weird way, something about taking a step in mourning my dad like this—doing it for the hope of answers—felt oddly right.
