I think for a moment, then ask a question that’s been on my mind for a while. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that happened to you in high school?”
She laughs softly, the sound a little nervous but real. “Oh god, you really wanna know? Well, I guess it would be when I accidentally spilled my drink all over my chemistry teacher’s lap. He was so pissed, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I’m pretty sure he hated me after that.”
I chuckle at the memory, shaking my head. “Classic Kenna, okay your turn” I say, and she grins.
She meets my gaze, her eyes serious now. “When you were inside—when you went to prison—what was the hardest part?”
I hesitate. I’m used to keeping things close to the chest, especially when it comes to the hardest parts of my life. But she asked, and I know this is the kind of thing we need to work through. I swallow hard, and the words come out slower than I expect. “When I first got there, I missed my family and you. I would write you letters, but I never sent them. I thought it would be better for you if you just forgot about me. But every day I thought about you. Every damn day.”
Kenna goes silent for a moment, and I can see her processing.Her face softens, her expression flickering with something like sympathy, but it’s more than that. It’s understanding. She gets it.
“I had no idea,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you just...send them?”
I rub my hand over my face, looking down for a moment before I meet her eyes again. “I thought you’d be better off without me. Without knowing. I thought I was doing the right thing by cutting you out of it. I didn’t want my mess to become your mess, but every day, I missed you. I thought about you constantly, and sure I wrote the letters. But I never sent them. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do that to you.”
Kenna doesn’t speak at first. Instead, she just stares at me, her gaze soft, and for a second, it’s like we’re back in high school. Back when things were simpler, when we could still see each other without all the baggage of what life had thrown at us. I’m not sure how long we sit in that quiet moment, but I feel it—a connection, like we’re finally starting to heal.
Without warning, she stands from the tub, the water slipping off her skin as she looks at me.
I don’t say a word, but I stand up, lifting her gently out of the bath and into my arms. Her skin is warm against mine, and I carry her back to the bedroom, setting her down gently on the bed. The night feels different now—like we’ve crossed a threshold, something unspoken between us.
I look down at her, and it’s almost like we’re still just two kids who still have so much to figure out but somehow know that this, right here, is worth everything.
Her eyes glisten, and before I can stop it, a tear slips down her cheek. Then another. And another. I reach for her, pulling her into my arms as she starts to cry, soft sobs wracking her body. I hold her close, kissing the top of her head, and I let her cry as much as she needs to.
When her breathing finally slows, I ease back just enough to reach for the brush on the nightstand. I sit behind her and gather her damp hair carefully, drawing the brush through it in slow,gentle strokes. She leans into me, her shoulders relaxing with every pass, and I tuck the loose strands behind her ear, taking my time, letting the quiet speak for me.
“I’m here, Kenna,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. Always.”
She clings to me, and for a moment, it feels like the world is quiet, like nothing else matters but this. I pull her tighter, my arms wrapped around her, not letting go.
And as I kiss the top of her hair, I whisper the words that have been in my heart for as long as I can remember: “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my Sunshine.”
The soft glow of the lamp beside the bed flickers as I stare at the ceiling, the weight of everything finally starting to settle in. The room feels quiet now, much quieter than it was before, the space between us thick with emotions we’ve only begun to sort through.
Kenna’s still in my arms, her breath deep and slow as she drifts in and out of sleep. Her body is warm against mine, and I can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment, even though I know she’s carrying something heavier inside her that she’s not ready to share just yet.
I want to ask her what’s going on, but the silence is peaceful, and I don’t want to ruin that. Not yet.
After a while, Kenna stirs, her fingers lightly brushing against my chest as she stretches. “I’m kind of hungry,” she says, voice soft, muffled by the pillow she’s resting on.
I smile, pulling her a little closer to me. “You’re always hungry,” I tease, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She huffs a small laugh and raises her head, her eyes locking with mine. “I am not,” she protests, though there’s no real conviction in her voice.
“Yeah, you are,” I reply, poking her playfully in the side. “Remember the time you ate an entire pizza by yourself in one sitting?”
“Yeah, well, you ate the last slice,” she shoots back with a grin. “I had to make sure you didn’t get away with that.”
I chuckle, brushing my lips against her forehead. “I still don’t know how you managed to pull that off. You’re like a bottomless pit when it comes to food.”
She gives me a mock glare, but the corners of her lips twitch into a smile. “You know you love it.”
“Yeah, I do.” I pause, meeting her gaze. “So, what do you want to eat?”
“I don’t know. Takeout? Something easy?” she suggests, rolling over and sitting up on the edge of the bed. “But first, I think we should watch a movie. You in?”
I sit up beside her, stretching as I rub my hands over my face. “I’m in. What are we watching?”
