And once we’re back here, alone, I get all up in her space.
“If he doesn’t stop looking at you, I’m going to rip out his throat,” I snarl, so close to her lips that I can taste the cherry seltzer she was drinking.
Kennedy rolls her eyes so hard, I fear they might not sit right in their sockets afterward. “Cut the shit. Logan and I are friends. And last time I checked, I can smile at whoever I want.”
My fists shake at my sides. “You don’t want to test me on this, Kennedy.”
Before I know what’s happening, she shoves me. Hard. Anger radiates from her body, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“You don’t want me. You’ve never truly wanted me. You talk a big game and let your ego do the walking, but when it really comes down to it, you never commit. For years, I was right there for the taking. I would have been yours in a second if you just snapped your fingers. Hell, I’d have even fallen at your feet when you came home just months ago. But you don’t really want that, do you, Everett? Attention. Validation. That’s what you want. This is more about your bruised soul than it is about wanting to be with me. And that’s just vicious to me, Everett.”
Her tone isn’t cutting, it isn’t mean or rude. It’s … resigned. Which may be even worse. I’ve jerked her around so much, to the point where Kennedy doesn’t even think I have feelings for her.
If she only knew how fucking much I want her, how much I lust over her, how much I want to make her mine. But I just can’t tell her.
I know I’m sending mixed signals, but it’s only because my own brain is so damn disheveled from everything I’ve been through. Deep down, I know it will never be possible for me to love Kennedy the way she needs. I’m too damaged, the things I need to overcome would sink us in the end.
But every so often, when I’m reminded that she will leave me behind for someone else, a surge of carelessness washes over me. I don’t give a damn about the consequences, that I shouldn’t go after her. I just want her. And so I do something fucking stupid, like kissing her in that diner, or pulling her aside right now.
“That’s not true. None of that is true.” My heart aches to tell her the truth.
“Whatever. I can’t do this anymore.” Her tone has a note of finality, and I panic.
“Get in the car.” I toss my chin in the direction of the parking lot. “I want to take you somewhere.”
I command her, but she doesn’t move.
“And why would I get in any car with you? You haven’t driven in over two years. Plus, it’s the middle of the game.”
That’s not true, but she doesn’t know that. It’s been about three weeks since my parents let me start using the car again, and only after I told them I picked some community college courses. It’s how I’ve been avoiding Kennedy so well. I’ve been driving myself to other towns, to the outskirts of Brentwick, anywhere I don’t have to have run-ins with her.
“Who cares? Please, give me one last chance.”
It’s now or never. She just laid her cards out, revealed to me exactly what I’ve been showing her, how I’ve been treating her. And now it’s time for the Hail Mary play, because I’ve fucked this up so bad, I’m going to lose her.
I didn’t realize until this moment just how much I can’t let that happen.
So I have to tell her. All of it.
25
Everett
Driving through a graveyard at dusk is, as assumed, creepy.
The headstones start to cast long shadows, massive portions of the land are bathed in darkness, while the sun plays tricks with your eyes in others. It’s quiet, and when you’re the only car weaving its way through the narrow passages, the feeling of isolation is real.
I pull the car to a stop at the space my mom directed me to last week, when she first brought me here. I’d asked her to, a day after my encounter with Kennedy in the tree house. I’d felt the most normal, the most like myself, after I was with her in the most intimate way possible. I was ready to face my fears, to see the worst of what could have happened.
When I look over at Kennedy, she looks like she isn’t breathing. Her eyes are wide, and I think I might have really scared her. This is probably the last place she thought I’d bring her.
Laying a hand over hers, I say gently, “Come on, please?”
She unbuckles herself and follows as I get out too, walking up the grassy hill to the spot where I need us both to stand at.
“So, this is where they buried me.” I survey the headstone as if it actually reads my cause of death.
“I know. I was there.” Kennedy breathes beside me, and I notice her shivering.
Shit, it’s practically Thanksgiving, and it’s frigid out here. Without being invited, I wrap an arm around her shoulder, tucking her into me. Her eyes flutter up to me, and I can almost see her here on that day.
“Did you cry?” I ask, curious.
“Of course I did.” She says this as if it’s obvious.
“Sometimes, I wonder if anyone back home cared about me, when I was down in that hole.” It rolls off my tongue without me even thinking about it.
And even though she’s still snuggled into me, I hear Kennedy sigh.
“Can we put a stop to this now? This back and forth. I don’t want to be a pawn in your game. It hurts, Everett. You know how I feel about you. And don’t lie and tell me you don’t feel the same way, too.”
I look down at her, pushing a lock of hair off her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. Or maybe I was. Because I was so hurt. But, I’m ready to tell you why. Will you listen?”
As we stand there, in front of my grave, I give Kennedy the most vulnerable side of me. I just hope she accepts it.
“Yes.” She looks so deep into my soul that I’m almost tempted to shut back up again.
But I know this is the only way to get her to trust me, to possibly get her to be with me.
“When I first signed up for the military, I was so cocky. I thought I was a big shot, some noble countryman who was going to blow some enemies’ heads off. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I was so in over my head from day one, it wasn’t even funny. I hadn’t considered that there were actual lives at the end of my scope, that I was killing people with families and interests and breath. I was good at it, don’t get me wrong. It’s why they recruited me for black ops missions, which I thought made me even bigger than I thought I was. But it steals a part of you, every life you take. I wasn’t prepared for that. It leaves this gaping hole inside you, that just keeps rotting away. And then I was asked to do this thing. An unimaginable thing. I can’t tell you about it, believe me you wouldn’t look at me the same ever again if you knew what it was. But I didn’t go through with it, and that’s how I ended up getting captured.”
Chancing a look at Kennedy, her eyes are trained on my face, tears glistening.
Gulping, I continue. “When I was imprisoned … it was fucking terrible. But worse than that, there are just no words to describe. I’m sure everyone around here has their theories about how I was treated, and maybe you can imagine the worst. I’m telling you, it was a thousand times more horrific than what you picture in your nightmares. And not just the physical torture, although pain is just a word when you’re that deep in agony that you barely feel anymore. No, the mental fuck-all they put me through was worse. Threatening my family, my fellow soldiers. Speaking in tongues in front of me, blasting music, not allowing me to sleep. I wished I would die, so I didn’t have to go through it anymore. I’m not sure you, or anyone else, will ever grasp what it feels like to be there, to feel like you’d actually rather die than keep on living in conditions like that. So … that’s why I’m so fucked up. It’s why I can’t give you a straight answer, or why I disappear after being vulnerable with you. Believe me, Kennedy, I wish I wasn’t like this. I’d give anything to be the guy from those letters, because I meant every word. I’m just not sure I can give those things to you anymore.”