by Beck, J. L.
“Are you sure about this?” Kennedy’s mother asks for the third time.
I nod. “Yes. I’ll stay with her and make sure nothing happens.”
The apprehension on her face tells me she doesn’t want to believe me, but, truthfully, she doesn’t have a choice. Kennedy is old enough to make her own choices. She, however, can’t be trusted to stay alone. The doctor recommended someone stay with her for the next few weeks. The other option would be to put her into a mental hospital, which is only happening over my dead body. Her father, of course, was all for it, which almost earned him a fist in his face.
“He said he’ll call us if there is a problem, Claudia, let’s go,” Travis, Kennedy’s father says, his eyes refusing to meet mine. He’s lucky he’s even allowed in the room after all the shit he pulled.
“Okay, okay. I’m just worried. I don’t want to lose her,” Claudia says, her voice cracking. Kennedy hasn’t said but a handful of words to her parents. I haven’t dared tell her mother that I might be the worst person for this job, given Kennedy’s and my past, but I owe her this. I owe it to her to make things right, to protect her, to make sure she gets another chance at this. I can’t let her go, not knowing that I’m the cause.
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.”
“I hate that I ever cared about you. That I ever became your friend, and that I ever considered loving you. Leave me alone, or I’ll tell everyone that you pushed me to kill myself.”
With tears in her eyes, she twists on her heels and walks into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. I carry her things into the kitchen before walking out into the living room. Sagging down onto the couch, my head falls in my hands.
Did I make the right choice coming here? By telling Claudia, I’d watch her?
In an instant, I’m reminded that I did, and all the doubt fades away.
I need to help her find her way back to the light. I owe her that, and if she still hates me at the end of this, I’ll walk away. If that’s what she really wants, then I’ll do it. I’ll let her go because that’s how much I love her. I’ll suffer the pain of losing her if it’s the best thing for her.
28
Kennedy
Four days pass in a blur. I only allow Jackson in the bedroom to check my cuts and to administer my pain pills. It takes an enormous amount of effort to shut down my feelings when he’s near. His scent surrounds me, lodging itself deep inside of my mind. I want to shove him out the front door, but the truth is I need him. In a second flat, I’ll be shoved back into the box my parents want me to live in if I don’t allow him to stay here and babysit me.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy though. He’s a reminder of everything I want to forget. My mom thought I was trying to kill myself, and that’s why I cut myself, but that wasn’t true. I don’t want to die. I just want the pain to lessen.
I woke up feeling well enough to go back to classes today, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not sure what Jackson has planned, but I’m going even if he doesn’t want me to. Tugging my shoes on, I let out a small sigh at the thought of fighting with him. As soon as I stand up, I feel a slight burn on my thighs and wince at the pain that lances the tender flesh.
There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and I ignore it, grabbing my backpack off the floor instead. When I get to the door, the knocking has grown more insistent, and I twist the knob, pulling it open much harder than necessary.
I can feel Jackson’s eyes roaming my body, each green orb, a heat-seeking missile against my skin.
“Where are you going?”
“Classes. I’m feeling better, and I don’t want to elongate going back. Plus, I’ve missed enough.” I only lift my gaze to the middle of his broad chest. I don’t want to see his eyes or face. He’s just a reminder of everything I’m begging to forget.
“Are you sure about this, Kennedy? I’m not sure your mental or physical state is ready.” I roll my eyes, wishing he would go back to not caring if I was breathing or dead.
“I don’t really care what you think. I’m leaving, and you don’t have to follow me. In fact, I would be grateful if you didn’t.” Shoving past him, an electrical current rips through me as my arm brushes against his. This would all be so much easier if I didn’t feel drawn to him. If my heartbeat didn’t spike in his presence.
“No can do, Kennedy. Let me grab my stuff, and then we can leave,” he says, and I’m thankful he isn’t fighting me on this. I don’t really have the strength to argue with him right now anyway. Going into the kitchen, I grab an apple and make a quick cup of coffee, putting it in my travel mug.
When I’m done, Jackson is waiting at the door, and this time, I don’t stop myself from looking at him. Arrogantly beautiful, menacing, and capable of death. He’ll make you believe anything and then rip the carpet right out from under your feet.
Walking ahead of him, I make sure my pace is faster than his, which is a pain in the ass since he’s taller than me. I manage, though, because I don’t want anyone to think we’re walking together. When I reach my first class, I almost sigh. The tension in my body makes my muscles ache, and I can’t wait to put some space between us.
“Whoa, wait,” Jackson calls, his hand landing on my shoulder, stopping me from continuing forward. “I’m going to be here when you get out.”
“Can’t you just go away,” I growl, shrugging off his hold. Every time he touches me, warmth envelops my body. My heart clings to him while my brain knows better, knows the damage he can cause.
I make the mistake of looking up and into his mossy green eyes. “No, I can’t just go away, and I won’t. I’m going to be up your ass, and I’m going to make sure that you’re okay because I owe it to you.”
Shaking my head, I take a step back, both wanting and needing to put some distance between us. “You don’t owe me a thing, and even if you did, I don’t trust you. I don’t want anything from you because everything comes at a cost, Jackson, and I’m done paying your prices. I’m done.” Turning, I walk away and straight through the double doors. I don’t stop until I reach my class and slump down into a seat.
Students filter in, taking their seats, and the professor takes the podium at the front of the room. I do my best to focus on what the professor is saying, jotting down notes, and trying to retain all the information I missed while I was gone. Somehow, it feels like people are staring at me, watching me more than usual, so I end up spending most of the class looking over my shoulder like a crazed person.
A few girls are whispering and looking my way, but I don’t catch anyone else watching me. Brushing it off to paranoia, I finish class, and when we’re dismissed, I walk down the hall and head to my next class even though I want to run back to my apartment.
Stepping outside, I spot Jackson leaning against a tree, his posture is relaxed, casual, and as soon as he spots me, he pushes off the tree and walks over to greet me.
He wasn’t lying, he really was waiting. Which disgusts me and makes me feel warm all at once. I hate that he didn’t listen to me, didn’t go away when I told him to.
“How was class?” he asks.
“Fine. You know you don’t need to follow me around, your friends are going to start asking questions if you do.”
Jackson shrugs. “I don’t really care what they ask or what they say. All I care about is you and what you think and feel.”
My mouth pops open, and I’m not really sure what I plan to say, but I guess it doesn’t matter because Crystal comes walking up to us, her shoulder slamming into mine, causing me to almost crash into Jackson.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” She says, chuckling beside Jackson. “Wait, I thought you…” She makes a motion of cutting her wrists and then says, “Looks like you didn’t do a good enough job if I do say so myself.”
I’m not really shocked at her words, of course, someone as selfish and heartless as her would say something like that. It’s fitting, really.
Jackson reacts before I can, grabbing her by the arm and twisting her around to face him. “What the fuck? You think it makes you look cool to say shit like that?” The anger that contorts his face is scary as hell, but a look that I’ve seen a few times myself.
Still, it’s strange to see him directing that rage at someone else, especially a girl that I know would do anything to be with him.
“Let go of me, you’re hurting me,” Crystal whimpers, tugging her arm from his grasp.
“I’ll do more than hurt you if you talk to her like that again,” he seethes, and Crystal takes a step back, her nose in the air.
“I can’t believe I ever thought of hooking up with you.” The disgust on Crystal’s face makes her look as if she’s tasted something sour.
Jackson laughs. “Like you had a chance in hell. Run along, and if you talk any more shit about Kennedy,
you’ll be answering to me.”
Crystal turns on her high heels and walks away. Though it was very entertaining to see Jackson stick up for me, it changes nothing. It can’t. I can’t be with someone who hurt me like he did, who used my weakness against me. He knew how broken I was, knew how much I was hurting, and he still hit below the belt.
“You okay?” Jackson’s question slices through my thoughts.
“I’m fine.” I hold my head high, ignoring the stares we’ve earned from the little spat.
Wrinkles of worry form against Jackson’s forehead. “I’m sorry she is such a bitch.”
I shake my head. “Don’t apologize. I’m used to being beat down and treated like shit. I’ll survive, plus, it’s not like it’s the first time someone told me to kill myself.” I smile, knowing it’s a low blow, but I don’t care. He hurt me, ripped my heart out of my chest. He deserves to feel my pain, and it doesn’t matter how I deliver said pain.
“I deserve that…” He nods as if he’s reading my mind.
“I’ve got to go to my next class,” I say, pushing past him.
“Of course, let’s go.” He turns to follow me. It’s annoying, and I grit my teeth to keep the words inside my mouth.
* * *
Two classes later, and Jackson is still waiting for me after each class. I figured he would get bored after the first class, but he’s still following me around like a lost puppy. Anger grows, pulsing deep in my chest.
“I don’t want your pity, and I want you to stop following me,” I growl, walking right up to him. He looks down at me with an impassive look on his face. His green eyes twinkle in the afternoon sun. Why does something so cruel, so dangerous, get to be so gorgeous?
“I don’t pity you, and I’m not following you. I made a promise, and I’m sticking to it. I’ve screwed up a lot over the last couple of months. I didn’t ask questions, didn’t think things through, and that’s my fault. I don’t want to lose you, though, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I don’t.”