Chapter Fifty-Five
Kaylee
I wake up alone.
Even so, the world is a little less cold.
A little less dark.
It hurts a little less, Grandma being gone.
I manage to drag myself out of bed. I brush my teeth, shower, put on makeup, blow dry my hair. I feel better. Not great. But better. Like I can actually face the world.
I pull on an old dress. It's a little small, but it's stretchy enough to be comfortable. I'm about to move into the hallway when I see it.
A note on my desk.
Meet me at the boardwalk at noon. I have something to show you.
- Brendon
And there's the exact address. And a detailed drawing. A blooming rose in the shape of a heart, covered in thorns. It's beautiful. Intricate. Incredibly Brendon.
My stomach flutters. It pushes away the darkness flowing through me. I actually feel warm. Alive. Like the world is a place where good things can happen.
It still hurts.
But I'm pretty sure I can survive it.
Mom is strangely okay with my request to borrow the car. Emma too. She doesn't ask where I'm going or insist on coming. Dad either.
It's weird.
Like they know what Brendon's up to. And are somehow okay with it. But that isn't possible. If my parents knew we were sleeping together, they'd kill him.
Or maybe...
I mean, I told Grandma.
She might have narced on me. And I wasn't exactly subtle about crying to Mom about a guy who didn't love me.
The sad promise of Love Will Tear Us Apart flows through the speakers. Joy Division is the only band Brendon and I like. Well, the only band he'll admit to liking. He hates the indie pop and pop-rock I play. (Sue me, I like vaguely pop sounding things). But he's different with some of the pop-punk bands. Maybe it's all high school nostalgia. Or maybe it's a secret love of well-recorded, melodic music.
I'm going to call him on it one day.
But not today.
Love has already torn me apart.
I'm just hoping it puts me back together.
I check the address again. Almost there. My fingers curl around the steering wheel. My heartbeat picks up. I don't know what this is, but guys don't leave beautiful drawings and promises as break up notes. I think. I don't know anything about guys.
Grandma would tell me to be brave. To go with it. She'd say something cliché about how she regrets all the things she didn't do. All her mistakes taught her things or brought her joy. Even her ex-husband. He brought her Mom. And that was worth everything.
I turn into the beach parking lot. It's half empty. And there, in the corner—that's Brendon's rental car. I think. It's some generic black sedan with a big yellow sticker advertising the rental company. It could be anyone's rental car.
I park at an end space. Turn the car off. Force my hands into my lap.
They're shaking.
But it's a good shaking.
A nervous energy I'm capable of feeling alive shaking.
I climb out of the car, tap the lock, hug my purse.
A breeze blows over my shoulders. It's a cool day and the ocean breeze isn't helping matters. This dress isn't nearly warm enough. And it's not a boardwalk dress. My hair isn't right. Or my makeup. Or my shoes.
No. This is fine. It's clothes. They aren't what matters.
I cross the parking lot and climb the wooden steps to the boardwalk.
He's standing there against the railing, the sand and the ocean and the sky his backdrop.
He looks so good. All tall, dark, and handsome.
Those same black jeans.
Those same coffee eyes.
That soft smile curling over his lips.
I move toward him. Until I can smell his soap. My fingers curl around the note. "It's a beautiful drawing. New?"
He nods. "Had something in my head I had to get out."
"What does it mean?"
"I'll get there." He takes my hand. "I promise. But give me a minute."
I nod. A minute is too long. A second is too long. All this air between us—it's too much. But I need to hear everything.
"Your mom and I talked."
"Oh. You told her?"
"Not everything. But I will. We agreed that you and Em should move in together. If you want."
Me and Em with our own place? We always talked about that. But once I started working, I realized it would be forever before I could afford it.
"Emma refused to let me cover her half."
"Of course."
"Your Mom... Your grandma took out a life insurance policy awhile back. It's a few hundred thousand dollars. And you're the sole beneficiary."
"What?"
"She wanted to make sure you'd have enough to study whatever you wanted."
"Oh."
"I tried to get your old place back, but the subletor refused to leave before the lease is up. It can be yours next September. But I figured you'd rather find one place and make it home."
I nod.
"I found you two a place. It's in Santa Monica. It's halfway between the beach and SMC. If you'd rather save everything, I can find you a cheaper place." He pulls out his cell and hands it to me.
I flip through the pictures of the apartment. It's small, but it's nice. Big windows. Hardwood floors. Two little bedrooms. A balcony. An ocean view if you look from just the right angle.
"It's yours if you want it."
I nod. "I do."
"And I..." He stares back into my eyes. "That night Emma found out, she said something—"
"Said?"
"Yelled something that stuck with me. I'm supposed to protect you from guys like me."
"But you—"
"Let me finish." His voice is strong. Even. Sure.
But I can't wait.
I need to know that he's mine.
I force myself to nod.
"I couldn't stop thinking about it. I've believed that I'm no good for a long time. My mom made sure of it. That was why I tried to stay away from you, Kay. Not just because you were young or because you were Emma's friend or because it would fuck up everything in my life. Because I didn't want to hurt you."
Words claw at my throat. Somehow, I manage to nod instead of speaking.
"But the more time I spent with you, the more I wanted to peel back all your walls. I wanted to find the things that hurt you and destroy them. I wanted your heart."
"I wanted to give it to you."
"I know. You trusted me."
"I still do."
His lips curl into a half smile. "That was everything I wanted. Still is. But it's also everything that terrifies me. You're as bright as the sun, Kay. You have this big, beautiful life ahead of you. And the thought of snuffing out even a hint of your boundless potential—it guts me."
He moves closer.
Until I can feel all the heat of his body.
His hand goes to the neckline of his t-shirt.
"It still does. But I want to get through that. If you're willing to have me. If you have the patience for it."
He pulls his t-shirt down his chest.
There's fresh ink on his skin.
Right on the spot I chose.
Serva me, servabo te.