Claudia pats Kennedy on the leg, but she doesn’t even look up and acknowledge her mother. “The doctors are going to get you set up with a therapist. You need to go once a week. Please, don’t hurt yourself, please. If I lose you…”
“Let’s go, honey,” Travis growls from the doorway.
I want to tell the fucker that he should care more about his daughter, but you can’t make someone care. They either do, or they don’t.
Claudia wipes some tears from her face and kisses Kennedy on the forehead before walking toward the doors, turning toward me before she reaches the threshold. “Please, take care of her, and call me if anything happens, day or night.”
“Will do,” I tell her. She nods and walks out of the room without looking back. I hate how self-absorbed Kennedy’s parents are. They should’ve seen how much she was hurting.
I should’ve seen how much she was hurting.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle.
She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, “Why are you still here?”
Patience isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll do anything for Kennedy, so I bury my emotions and remind myself it’s going to take time. She is not going to accept me being here.
“I promised your mom I would stay and take care of you so you can continue going to school. I didn’t think you wanted to go home.”
“I don’t, but I also don’t want to be with the person that pushed me into this hospital bed.”
Fuck that stings, but I deserve that. I deserve to feel her anger and pain. I’m ready to be battered by her because I fucking deserve it. I’ll be her whipping post, and the person she needs to hold her together.
“I understand that, and I’m going to make this right. Fix everything that I did.”
“I’m not a broken picture frame. You can’t fix me.”
“I’m not trying to fix you, bug. I’m fixing myself. I’m here because I want to be. Because I owe it to you.”
“I don’t want you here.” She lifts her gaze, and there’s a haunting look in her eyes. I want to go to her, wrap my arms around her and tell her everything is going to be okay, but I wouldn’t dare. Not now. It’s too soon.
“I know, but I’m here, and that’s not going to change.” Exhaling, I look down at my hands. Blood. So much blood. I’ll never be able to forget the way I found her. The fact that I caused her that much pain and pushed her to kill herself. I owe her this. “Are you ready to go?” I ask again.
She doesn’t say anything, and I decide to take the initiative to get us going. Maybe she’ll feel better when we get back to her apartment. Calling for the nurse, I get her a wheelchair and wheel it into the room.
Kennedy pretends as if I’m not there as she slowly pushes off the bed and into a standing position. Pain flicks across her features, and I feel it in my gut, like a dull knife blade digging into my skin. Out of reflex, I offer her my hand, but she smacks it away, hissing at the contact, almost as if I’ve burned her.
“Let me help you,” I plead.
“No,” she grits out through her teeth. “I’d rather feel every ounce of pain than let you touch me again.”
Her words pelt me like blocks of ice, but I expect them. Expect her to lash out, to hate me, to curse me forever.
The nurse returns a moment later with discharge papers.
“Please, remember to inspect the wounds and make sure that they’re clean. We’ve sent over an antibiotic and pain reliever to the pharmacy. The doctor would like her to resume classes in a few days. If you have any problems, give us a call.”
Kennedy grunts and takes the papers from the nurse, scribbling her name across the signature area.
“Thank you,” I tell the nurse and start to wheel her out of the room. We make it to the front doors, and I park the wheelchair before turning to her.
“I’m going to go get my SUV, I’ll be right back.” As expected, I get no response, and she turns her head away from me like a child. I go and get my car, driving up to the pick-up area as fast as I can. I almost sigh with relief when I find Kennedy still sitting there, her hands in her lap. God, she looks so fragile and broken.
I did that to her. I broke her.
Putting the SUV in park, I get out to help her out of the wheelchair, but she’s already pushing out of it and hobbling toward me.
“I’m here to help you,” I growl, unable to hide my anger. She’s going to end up ripping her stitches if she doesn’t let me help her.
“I think you’ve done enough helping,” she sneers, forcing me to step out of the way as she reaches the door of the SUV. I’m planning to help her into the vehicle when she hops up all by herself, wincing only once her ass hits the leather.
“If you don’t want to have to go home and live with your parents, then you’ll listen to me. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you.”
Kennedy laughs, but it’s not humorous—if anything, it’s sad. “I don’t trust you, Jackson. I should have never trusted you. Thinking you would be there that night, thinking that you would help me, thinking that you would believe me. I trusted in you and look how that turned out.” She looks over at me, and I see nothing of the girl I had loved for years. “I hate you. I hate everything that you represent, and every time I see your face, I’m reminded of how you took his side. I’m reminded of what a horrible fucking person you are, and how I never want to look at your face again because that’s all you’ll ever be.”
Tears fill her eyes, and for one brief moment, I can’t breathe, think, or even react. I knew she was angry and sad, going through the motions, but I never… I never thought she could truly hate me. Now, I’m not so sure.
I shove my feelings down, stomping them into the earth as soon as they start to pop up. This isn’t about me. This is about her.
“I get it,” I say and close the door once she’s tucked inside.
The drive to her place–after stopping at the pharmacy–is painstakingly slow. When we pull up to her apartment complex, I’m more than thankful to get out of the car. That relief is short-lived when Kennedy gets out and starts wincing. We have an entire flight of stairs to walk up, and there isn’t any way I’m letting her walk them. Knowing this, I let her get to the complex door before I scoop her up gently and cradle her to my chest.
“Put me down,” she yells as she tries to push away from me.
“Calm down. I’m just carrying you to the apartment. I don’t want you to rip any stitches or anything.”
“What do you care? You didn’t care about me before. What makes this time any different?” Like a feral cat, she lashes out, her nails sinking into my flesh, but I ignore the small twinges of pain that she evokes over my tense muscles. I’m still not healed from the fight, but my pain is insignificant to the pain that she’s endured.
“Down you go,” I say and set her down when we reach the door to her apartment. She unlocks it with trembling fingers and shoves the door open, before turning to face me.
“You can sleep in the hall.”
“That wasn’t the deal, Kennedy, and you know it. I’m sleeping in the apartment on your couch, or we can go to my place and stay there. Whichever works best for you. I’m here for you, that’s it.”