And I pause there, allowing Kat to absorb and process my words. I brace for her to call me a motherfucker. To take back her “I love you” even. But she doesn’t.
“Yeah, I figured as much,” she says simply, offering me a soft smile. “I’m glad he had you to talk to, Zayn. I really am. I just wish I would have known, and that he would have trusted me more. I could have moved back here sooner; I could have tried to help him to?—”
“No,” I say firmly, taking her hand. “You can’t do that to yourself. You were exactly where you needed to be, doing the work that you needed to be doing in Seattle. Your father didn’t tell me because he trusted me more than you.” I look down at my lap for a moment before meeting her eyes once again. “Your father told me because I wasthere,Kat. He told me because I was there, and he was lonely, and there was no one elsetotell. Andthat,” I add, “was not your fault either.”
Kat’s eyes flicker back and forth between my own. I see a small teardrop gather and fall from her long lashes. She smiles again, as though finally trusting my words.
“He made me promise not to tell you, and I tried to keep that promise to him, baby. I really did. But once I saw how much you were struggling, I knew I needed to let you discover it on your own, thereby not breaking my word to him.”
She swipes at a few more tears as I continue. “The truth of the matter is your father helped me as much as I helped him. I was in a bad place after coming home. After my discharge. Having regular time with your father, playing chess, helped me ease back into civilian life. He was my friend. And I miss him, too.”
“I’m,” she starts, clearing her throat, “I’m grateful that he had you. That you had each other.” She squeezes my hand.
Tears fall fast and steady now across Kat’s face. I go on, unable to stop now that the veil has been lifted.
“You’re a lot like him, you know. Proud, stoic. Strong. He didn’t want you to see him vulnerable and weak. He didn’t want you to have to see him dying.”
She squeezes my hand again. The gold bracelet slides down her slender wrist. My fingers gently turn over one of the delicate hanging charms. I meet her eyes.
And I can see it there on her face. In this moment, she finally knows the truth: her father loved her. I love her, too. And that as messy and complicated as our story has been—it is real, and supremelyours. And I have the feeling it’s healing us both.
27
RED
KAT ~ ONE MONTH LATER
Ibreathe in slowly, savoring the peace in the air and all around me. The past month has been a whirlwind of fear and adrenaline, and more cursed publicity. But now… now it felt like something new. Something was blooming. I relished these quiet moments back at Pearson House with Zayn and Bundy, drenched in peace and an easy quiet.
I pull the brand new, blood-red sweater over my head, and tousle my dark waves over one shoulder. I emerge from the closet and slip on my black high-heeled boots. Entering the foyer, I lift my head to see Zayn struggling with the wine key in the kitchen. Bundy perches on the edge of the counter, watching with large, saucer-like eyes.
After a moment, Zayn stills where he is in the kitchen and just stares down at the bottle of white wine in defeat. A slow smile spreads over my lips as I watch him.The killer… the ex-marine… so fucking capable but stumped by a goddamn wine cork.It was almost poetic or something.
“God damn it! I don’t know why I can never seem to get the damn cork out straight,” Zayn exclaims underneath his breath, presumably to himself. But Bundy meows in reply.
I come up behind him and quietly say, “It’s okay, baby, you have other strengths.”
“Mmm, like what?” he retorts, not turning to look at me.
“Well, for instance, parallel parking… making me come so hard I cry… killing off the Demon of the PNW. You know? That type of stuff. So why don’t you let me handle the wine?” I grin, as I wrap my arms underneath his body and reach for the bottle opener.
I feel Zayn freeze as he looks down and notices my sweater. He whips around, pinning me with an electrified gaze.
“Baby…” he exclaims with an incredulous tone in his voice. “Red? You’re wearing red.”
I meet his eyes, an easy smile playing over my lips.
“Mhmm,” I respond. “My new color.”
Zayn smiles at me, and there’s a light in his eyes so bright it could break through cloud cover. I offer him a radiant smile right back.
We are supposed to be celebrating today. But with the look Zayn is giving me, I’m not sure we will be making it out of the house at all. His gaze trails down the form-fitting sweater, taking it all in.
“Just wait until you see the color of my panties,” I whisper with a naughty wink of my eye. Zayn groans and leans into me.
“Come on,” I say, still smiling, as I put the last of the food and the wine bottle into the picnic basket. “We have a celebration to get to.”
And I grab his hand, which is now trailing down to my ass, and pull him out of the kitchen. We walk into the foyer, and I reach for my keys and cell phone on the entryway table there.
