At the same time, I feel terrible for suspecting Kjell of something like this. I should trust him more. Except for the ransacked dresser in my childhood home's living room and the fact that he—possibly just by chance—was right outside the door where Mother and I had our reconciliation, there's nothing.
"No, that's crazy," I say firmly, clenching my fists. "It's been weeks since I told him my story, and nothing bad has happened since then."
Lil nods thoughtfully.
"That's how it is, right?" I look at her intently. "Kjell feels as intense emotions as I do. Love means trust; understandably, it's difficult for him, so he sometimes acts strangely. There's nothing more to it."
"That's entirely possible," Lil agrees, but I can tell from her expression that she's uncertain.
I force a smile. "No, it's highly likely."
It's the best explanation for everything that has happened. I should be ashamed of even thinking otherwise.
