“Such the education I’m getting.”
“Sometimes I’m good for something.” Ky stabs at his coleslaw and stares out into the ocean. The sun isn’t quite setting, but it isn’t directly above us anymore either.
I let that statement linger before I respond. “You’re good for a lot of things when you want to be.”
“Not lately,” he disagrees, disenchanted.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
Ky regards me with so much remorse. “I don’t hate you, Kira. I’m just . . .” He searches for the right word.
“Angry?” I try to help him out.
He nods. “Angry and resentful and confused and hurt and so many other fucked-up things. They’re all just raging inside me twenty-four hours a day.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“I know a little something about emotional turmoil,” I confess.
“Your dad?” Ky guesses right. “Funny thing is, the thought of anyone hurting you drives me mad,” Ky admits.
“Except you.” Yes, I throw a dig. He deserves it.
“I am sorry, Kira. I’m sorry for what I said, and how I acted, and if I scared you.”
“I’m still deciding if I want to forgive you.”
“That’s fair.”
“What did you mean when you said Gerard picked me over you?” I think this is the burning hot question that has kept a stake wedged between us since we met.
Ky puts down his half-eaten dinner and runs his hands over his face. “When my dad met your mom, he became a different person. Almost instantly. It wasn't noticeable to most, but I’m his son. He raised me. I know him. He started pulling away, and sneaking around, and being secretive. And when I confronted him about it, he shut me down. We told each other everything. He was my rock. He got me through some of the toughest times in my life, and then, just like that” — he snaps — “he turned his back on me, and his club, and people we considered family.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Gerard I know.” I shake my head.
“I don’t know the Gerard you know. I couldn't pinpoint that man if I wanted to. For all I know, he hates my guts.”
I shake my head vehemently now. “He doesn't hate you. He’s never said a bad thing about you. Every time he talked about you, it was with such pride. He spoke so highly about you that I felt like I already knew you. That I already trusted you. It’s why I came to you. Because of him.”
Ky frowns.
“I hate him, Kira.” Ky rests his elbows on his knees and presses his palms to his forehead like he’s praying.
In this moment, I feel incredibly sorry for Ky. He’s suffering.
I don’t know what I would do if my mom walked away from me. If she just up and divorced herself from my life. I’m pretty sure I’d be devastated, too.
I place my hand lightly on his arm. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
Ky lifts his head, startled by my touch.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” His blue eyes are so anguished and raw.
“I’ll forgive you if you promise to never do it again.” I try to shed a little light on the dark conversation.
“Never again, Kira.” He brings his forehead to mine, closes his eyes, and inhales me.
