She glances over her shoulder at where the guys are talking. “Kent can come across like nothing fazes him, but it’s not true. Kent is deep and complex, and I’m not sure anyone has really uncovered the man behind the mask.” She takes hold of my hands, imploring me with her eyes. “Be patient with him. He’s a good man, and I can tell he has feelings for you.” She slips a card into my hand. “That’s my number and Keanu’s. If you ever need to call us, don’t hesitate.” She glances at the guys again. “We love Kent and want him to be happy.” She smiles at me, dropping my hands. “I think you make him happy, Presley, and I hope he makes you happy too.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Presley
I’m still mulling over her words as we wave them off and head back inside. “What was Selena saying to you?” Kent asks, opening the door for me.
“Just that she hopes we meet again,” I fudge. “I really like her. She’s such a sweetheart and so strong.”
“She is, and she loves my brother good. He was a grumpy motherfucker during the years they were apart. He’s much more pleasant to be around now.”
I laugh, though I find it hard to believe, because Keanu doesn’t seem the type.
“Are you in a rush?” Kent asks when we step back inside the apartment.
“I have nothing planned.” I had purposely kept my schedule free today, even though I hadn’t heard from Kent, in the hope our date would still go ahead.
“Could we walk and talk? I have a killer headache, and I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.”
“That sounds good, but I’m not really dressed appropriately.” I gesture at myself.
“I can give you one of my hoodies, and Selena won’t mind if you borrow some sneakers.”
A half hour later, we enter Cambridge Common, walking side by side around the park. It’s a busy spot, with plenty of walkers and joggers, and families with small kids making use of the playground.
“Tell me about Chris,” Kent says, getting straight to the point.
“I need to tell you about Clay to explain about Chris, so I’ll start at the beginning. After my parents died, I was placed in a foster home, but I only lasted a year there. I was in shock and grieving, and I didn’t speak the entire year. The foster parents couldn’t hack it, so I was placed with the Rinaldis.”
Bile collects in my mouth as I think back to a time I’d rather forget. Kent takes my hand, pulling me out of the path of a teenager on a bike. My fingers wrap around Kent’s, and I cling to his warmth as I continue telling my story, trying to stick to the facts so I don’t terrorize him or scare him off.
“That’s where I met Clay. He’d been with them for eighteen months when I arrived. He was five years older than me, and he instantly took me under his wing.” I wet my dry lips, skimming over the horrific parts of that experience. “It wasn’t a good home. Jean, the mom, was always drunk, and her husband, Jeff, was a creep.” That’s putting it mildly.
Kent’s fingers tighten against mine, and he pulls me over to one of the empty iron benches, making me sit down. “Did he…hurt you?”
“No, but only because Clay stopped him before he could touch me.” A shudder whips through me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, warding off memories I’ve long since buried.
“Is that the truth?” he whispers, and I blink my eyes, shocked to see so much fear and rage pooling in his eyes.
“I’m not lying. Jeff didn’t touch me sexually, but he was building up to it, and there were plenty of close calls, where he brushed against my arm or I swore I felt his fingers crawling up my leg, and the way he looked at me.” A nasty shiver inches up my spine. “He looked at me the way no grown man should look at a ten-year-old girl.”
Kent squeezes my hand again, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
“Anyway, when Jeff made his move, Clay was ready for him, and he protected me. Then he called the social worker, and he got Jeff arrested. Clay and I were rehoused in this bigger home in Roxbury. There were four other foster kids already living there. All boys. Chris was one of them. He was ten, same as me, and we became instant best friends. He became my whole world at thirteen when Clay aged out and he had to leave me behind.”
“When did you become more?” Kent asks, staring into my eyes. He’s giving me his full attention, listening intently.
“He kissed me at fourteen, and we became boyfriend and girlfriend around that time.”
“And they allowed that? Your foster parents?” Kent inquires.
“They didn’t seem to care.” There were plenty of nights Chris crawled into my bed, and they turned a blind eye, but I’m not admitting that to Kent. He doesn’t need to hear those kinds of details.
Kent frowns. “They don’t sound great either.”
I shrug. “Gerald and Anna were fine. They ensured I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, clothes on my back, and they were strict about school and made me sign up for all kinds of extracurricular activities. But it was never like having real parents.” I peer into his eyes. “They could never replace my mom and dad. They didn’t pretend to love me or really care about where I went or who I was with. They covered the basics, and they weren’t unkind to me.”
It’s hard to properly explain to outsiders that I feel no connection to the people I lived with because they were never true parental figures. They were more like roommates who got paid to let me live with them. Even Clay doesn’t get it, and he still gets annoyed when I refuse to tag along on visits.
