I walk over to her bed and sit down next to her. She doesn’t say anything else, just reaches for me, and I pull her into my arms. She presses her face into my chest, the tears still coming, wetting my shirt. I hold her as tight as I can, like I can somehow hold all her pain at bay, like if I squeeze hard enough, it’ll all go away.
But nothing works. All I can do is hold her. Hold her and let her cry, let her get whatever’s breaking her out. And I’m fine with that. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her feel even a little better.
Her body trembles against mine, and I can feel the ragged edges of her breath against my skin. I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, but I don’t know if that’s true. So I just stay quiet, letting my presence speak instead.
I wish I could be the one to tell her everything’s going to be okay, but I don’t know that it will be. Not yet. All I know is that she’s here in my arms, and she’s hurting, and I’m going to do everything I can to help her get through it.
I can feel the weight of her on me. The way her body tremblesagainst mine, and all I can do is hold on, tighter, because that’s the only thing I can offer her. The only thing that seems to make sense right now.
“Kenna,” I whisper, my voice barely above a murmur. “I have you, Sunshine. I’m right here. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, but I can feel the tension in her body ease. Slowly, she relaxes into me, her sobs tapering off, her breathing becoming more even. It’s like she’s letting go of something. Something she’s been holding on to for too long.
I hold her close, her head resting on my chest as my fingers softly trace through her hair. Time stretches endlessly around us, but I don’t mind. I’ll stay for as long as she needs me. And for now, maybe that’s all that really matters.
But when she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine, I can’t help but feel this pull between us. It’s familiar. The connection. The way we’ve always been able to understand each other without saying a word.
She swallows, her voice still shaky but softer. “I got my period a few months ago. Every month they get worse and worse. The pain is unbearable. So this morning when I woke up, I tried getting out of bed to get ready, and I couldn’t even bear standing up. It hurt too much."
I close my eyes for a moment, my heart aching for her. “Kenna,” I whisper. “If you’d only told me sooner, I would’ve been beside you through it all. My heart wouldn’t have faltered, not for a moment. No matter how heavy the truth, I wouldn’t have turned away. I’m here now, Kenna, and I’m not going anywhere. Not today. Never.”
She bites her lip, the vulnerability in her eyes raw and unguarded. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak.”
She nods slowly, her eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity that makes my chest tighten all over again. She doesn’t say anything more, but in that moment, I know she’s heard me.I’ve said the words she needed to hear, and that’s enough. For now.
I stay with her for hours, just holding her, not saying much. The world outside seems to fade away, and it’s just the two of us, in her room, in this space where nothing else matters. All that matters is the way she feels, that I’m here for her, and that we’re not alone anymore.
And that’s all I need to know.
Chapter Eleven
CRAMP IT LIKE IT’S HOT
KENNA-PRESENT
It’s Friday night,and I should be out having fun, right? It’s the end of the week. The weekend is finally here, and I should be living in the moment. But I feel like a truck has run me over. I am curled up in a ball on the couch, clutching a heating pad to my lower belly like it’s the only thing keeping me together.
I can almost hear the distant laughter and music from some party I’m not at, a cruel reminder of the life that’s moving on without me tonight.
Cohen’s staying with my parents for the weekend, which is good because, honestly, I don’t like him seeing me like this.
My period always hits me like a freight train.
I can feel the tightness in my lower belly, the cramps that twist and knot so deep they make my whole body ache. Every breath feels like it’s dragging me down into a fog of exhaustion. My limbs feel heavy, like I’m made of lead, and all I want is to disappear under my covers and sleep for days.
But that’s not realistic. Life doesn’t wait for me to feel better.
Rina and Natalie have been texting me all day, sending a flood of emojis and persistent messages.“Come out! We miss you!”“Just a couple of hours!”“You deserve a break!”They don’t know how much it hurts, how much this pain steals my energyand makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. But they’re my friends, and I know they just want me to have a good time.
I stare at their texts, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, my head pounding in sync with the ache in my stomach. Why do I have to be the one who always cancels? The one who disappears when things get tough? I want to be there for them. I want to be myself again.
Eventually I give in, pop a couple of my prescription meds, hoping the dull ache will at least ease enough for me to pretend. I let them drag me into the bathroom to get ready.
I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for them.
I force myself to get dolled up, even though every fiber of my body screams at me to stay put. The moment I slip into my outfit—high-waisted mom jeans and a black bodysuit—there’s a strange armor that settles over me. The tightness of the jeans, the snug fit of the bodysuit, they almost feel like a shield. Maybe if I just cover myself up and make it look like I’m okay, no one will see the storm raging inside.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost don’t recognize the girl staring back. She looks confident, carefree, a little sexy, but underneath it all, she’s barely holding it together. My eyes are the giveaway. They’re tired, and the forced smile doesn’t quite reach them.
