I open my mouth to respond, but she interjects, “From the time she was four, Reverie lived every minute feeling threatened in her own home by the two people in the world who were supposed to protect her. She had nowhere else to go but to a place where she lived amongst people who, at one point or another, wanted her dead. Even worse, one of them actually attempted to kill her. Then, she saw exactly what the other was capable of in a way that would deeply traumatize the absolute hell out of the average person. That is a pain and terror neither you nor I will ever understand.”
Dropping my stare to the floor, I clench my jaw and nod my agreement.
“As for you, you lost a mother in a horrific way after losing your dad a few years prior. That pain is one Idounderstand, and it's a pain I'd only wish on Lionel himself. But what I will never understand is the absolutehellyou went through when you accused Lionel.Adultsbreak under half the vitriol you dealt with from eight years old to today. Millions of people harassed, bullied, and outright terrorized you foryears, all because you were the only one capable of putting the Locksmith behind bars. No one can take any of that from you. No one can take away your trauma. No one involved can say they had it worse than you. Reverie held on to something that could’ve changed what you went through. Maybe she couldn’t have saved you from it, maybe speaking out wouldn't have changed a single thing—we'll never know. But she never tried, and that’s what hurts you.”
My lungs are strings, and I can't pull in a breath to respond.
She softens her voice further as she says, “What wedoknow,however, is that if a six-year-old little girl defied a serial killer who, to this day, has outsmarted the fucking FBI, something extremely bad would've happened to her.”
I grind my molars harder, whittling them down to stubs, and nod again.
It's nothing I didn't already understand. I just don't know how to stop hating her, resenting her, when it's all I've done for nearly fourteen years.
“I didn't experience what you did. No one did butyou, Kellan. Which means no one can tell you how to feel about it,” Olive says after a few moments of heavy silence.
God, I hate how fucking transparent I am sometimes. It’s a wonder how the world finds me so mysterious when I’ve never been able to hide how I feel—at least not where Reverie’s concerned.
“But if you want my opinion?—”
“I do.”
“Let yourself be angry about it, but don’t let it eat you alive. Go home tonight and be angry. Be as furious as you need to be and let yourself feel it. Spiral, rage out, punch a fucking wall or two, do whatever you need to do to get it out of your system. You’re absolutely entitled to that. But once you’ve felt it all,let it go. Both of you were kids, but you lived two entirely different lives with very different traumas, and neither is more or less valid than the other.”
My gaze lifts to Junie, and it’s a fucking punch to the chest seeing how utterly innocent and pure she is. It’s inconceivable picturing Reverie that tiny and experiencing everything she did.
“Two people can hurt at the same time, Kellan,” she says quietly. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other, and it doesn’t have to be who hurts worse.”
I blow out a heavy breath before shutting my eyes and thumping my head back against the couch.
This isn’t the first time Olive’s had to talk me down from the edge of insanity. Funny how at the crux of it is always the same fucking blonde who torments me worse than her father ever did, except in a completely different way.
A few minutes pass in silence while I consider Olive’s words.
Part of me wants to pile this resentment on top of the rest and use it to build a fortress around myself, where I can live in its gilded cageforever. But if I’m being honest, I’m so fucking tired of being angry. I’ve been angry for so long, I’ve forgotten how to feel anything else.
Or, at least, Iused toforget. Slowly, over the past several weeks, that’s been changing, and even though I’m still battling with the guilt of it, it’s a breath of fresh air, too.
Although it goes against everything I've done since freshman year, Olive’s right. I need to release this burning wrath boiling in the pit of my stomach, and then I need to let it the fuck go.
“So, uh, are you guys dating now?” Olive asks, bringing my focus back to her.
I keep my eyes closed as I mumble, “Define dating.”
I can feel how unimpressed she is, especially because she knows I posted a picture of us online, and I imagine she's staring at me with that same dry expression she always does.
“You’re having S-E-X.”
I can’t help but grin. Having children around undeniably makes these conversations so much more entertaining.
“I believe we established that already.”
She rolls her eyes—I can feel that, too.
“Do you have feelings for each other?”
My smile drops. “Define feelings.”
“Kellan James,” she snaps, impatience tightening her voice into a sharp edge.
