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.”
Kennedy sighs, and we stare at my grave, the silence deafening. My arms still hold her, but I can feel the distance growing. I’ve told her as much as I can tell her, bared my soul so that she might understand. Will it be enough?
“When they told me you had died, that you were gone, I wanted to curl up into the earth myself. We had just spent a whole year writing to each other, about everything we wished we could be. The things you wrote to me, they were what I’d always dreamed you’d say. If I had to live in a world where you no longer existed, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do that. Everett, I imagined so many things. I imagined a future where you came home for me.”
Her words slice my heart open and seem to empty all the poison I’ve been holding onto for months.
“And then you came home, and you weren’t you. You weren’t the man from those letters, or the one I’d imagined being with. Do you know how hurtful you’ve been over the last few months?”
Turning to her, pulling her in so that were flush against each other, I try to stare every amount of emotion I feel straight into her chocolate brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Kennedy. Some days, I can’t tell which way is up. Don’t
you get it? I don’t think I deserve to be here. One day, the enemy all just up and left. I have no idea why they didn’t just off me before they went. Maybe they were in a rush. Maybe they figured I was already on my way to death, the desert would finish me off. With every step I took, every look over my shoulder, I was sure someone was fucking with me. That I’d get a bullet to the back, or some fucking militia fighter would jump out and slit my throat. I still feel like that. Why the fuck am I here, how did I make it home? It doesn’t seem real still. To have you so happy to see me home, to have you still be the same incredible, gorgeous woman you were when I left—I can’t grapple with it sometimes. I don’t deserve you. I’m too tainted, too destroyed.”
“And yet, I still want you.” She shrugs, as if we’re stuck in this impossible situation.
“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.” I breathe, relief flooding through me.
I’ve waited so long to say those words to her in person, and I’m finally releasing myself to do so. I’m tired of fighting it, of trying to predict the future of when I’ll hurt her. My life is fucked up enough already, I’m done with trying to close myself off. If I don’t open up, I’m going to end up in that grave for real, buried beneath the earth. Dr. Liu has told me as much, and Kennedy just laid it on me.
“I don’t want you looking at Logan Myers, or him looking at you. I want you. I want you to be with me. You’re … Christ, Kennedy, you’re so damn perfect it’s intimidating.”
Her long dark locks shake with her head. “I’m not. I have so many flaws, Everett, and a lot of them have to do with wanting you even when you push me away. But, I guess that’s how we got here, huh?”
I just thank the heavens that she doesn’t take no as an answer very easily. For all the shit I’ve thrown her way, before and after returning to Brentwick, she should have kicked my ass to the curb long ago. I have a lot of making up to do. And I plan to start now.
My fingers trace her jaw. “No more games. Let’s do this. I can’t promise I won’t be surly, or closed off, but I want to try.”
Kennedy blinks up at me. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say that.”
“So, say yes.” I breathe, bending until my whisper fans over her lips.
“Ye—”
She can’t get the full syllable out. I don’t let her.
Because when my mouth covers hers, in the first time as two people who have pledged their hearts to one another, it isn’t patient.
There, over the shadow of my gravestone, I give her the kiss I’ve been waiting a decade to give her. And it feels all that much more real because she is finally mine.
26
Kennedy
Two weeks pass before the night of the big barn party on Thanksgiving Eve.
They’re filled with hours of schoolwork, goofing off with Rachel and Bi, EMT shifts, and worrying about my college acceptance letters. Oh, and of course, fitting in every spare second I can with Everett.
Since the night at his headstone, where we agreed to no more games, he’s been … incredible. Everything I envisioned a relationship with Everett would look like, is what we have had these past two weeks. Texting and talking all hours of the day. Sneaking glances at each other across the football field. Hanging out with my friends on weekend nights. He came over for dinner with my parents.
And best of all, we sneak out of our houses most nights to spend them with each other in the tree house. While there has been no sex, or talk of it, we’ve come pretty damn close. I gave my first hand job, and then blow job, this past week. I don’t think I was particularly great, but Everett made it sound like I was and I got the desired end result, so I couldn’t have been that bad.
But tonight, you’d think all of that had never happened.
Thanksgiving Eve is the biggest night of drinking, well, probably everywhere in the United States. Everyone comes home from college, or from out of town if they’ve graduated. Exes meet up, hook up, old friends drift back into town in search of their mom’s turkey and end up doing shots of tequila with the kid they sat next to in ninth grade Spanish. It’s tradition for everyone to venture out to the barn where parties are held, and spend the last hours before sitting down at a table with your family getting absolutely plastered.
So here we are, sitting on Scott’s tailgate that’s parked in front of the enormous bonfire, surrounded by hundreds of people. There are kids six years older than I am here, hitting on the juniors who got invited to this party, which is kind of disgusting, but far be it from me to cock block. Some of my previous cheer captains showed up, and we all played flip cup together. Bianca’s ex-boyfriend is lurking, and Rachel has already threatened to knee him in the family jewels.
But it’s Everett I can’t keep my eyes off of. Most of his old high school buddies came home for the holiday, and he’s turned into the senior I lusted after once again. I’ve seen a smile on his face more than once, and I swear he even laughed.
Though the reason I may or may not be on my third cranberry and vodka is because he hasn’t bothered treating me like his … well, girlfriend. Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? He asked me to be together with him, but we never made it official with titles. Do we need them? Isn’t our connection deeper than that?
Well, maybe not. My friends know about us and have hung out with us. But do his? Everett hasn’t brought me over to his house, so maybe his parents don’t even know.
All of my insecurities as a teenage girl, especially one who has been so tossed around by her love interest, creep out and invade my blood like poison.
I’ve just been openly staring at him throughout the night, willing him to look at me, but he hasn’t. Hasn’t come up to kiss me, or put his arm around me, or introduce me to his friends. Of course, they all know me, just not as his girl. How badly I want to be called his girl.
“Why are those guys running through the fire?” Bianca yelps.
“Because men are idiots who want to measure their dick size without whipping it out?” Rachel poses this as a question, but it’s more of a statement.
“Truth.” I giggle, rolling my eyes as I tip my mixed drink up.
The tart liquid slides down my throat, and I momentarily don’t care that the guy I’m practically getting naked with is ignoring me.
“Come on, soldier, show me those muscles!” Trent, one of the guys who ran in the same circle as Everett in high school, whips off his flannel, revealing a slate of abs.
Something low in my stomach begins to buzz, an electric current of butterflies zapping my core. Everett has a twinkle in his eye, the glint of the fire glistening off of his third, or maybe fourth, beer. He’s been happy tonight, in the company of his friends, and seems relaxed. In that regard, I can’t be salty about tonight. I love seeing him happy.
“You call those abs? More like a dad bod,” he quips, elbowing another buddy as they laugh at Trent.
“My point exactly, they can’t stop this pissing contest if they tried.” Rachel points to where the boys stand across the fire.
“Don’t worry, baby, I know my body is the best out of all of these assholes.” Scott quirks an eyebrow at her.
Rachel snorts. “Keep your shirt on, hun.”
Before I know what’s happening, Everett is whipping his sweater over his head, the soft cream-colored garment dropping down onto the dirt.
“Holy shit,” Bianca deadpans, openly staring at the guy I’ve been crushing on since I can remember.
My jaw drops open, because goddamn, it’s impossible not to stare. It’s been pitch-black in the tree house, so I can never truly see what my fingers are running over. Now that it’s on full display, in front of all of these people at the barn, I’m frozen.
Stunned.
Everett is … wow. I thought he was hot before, when I used to see him after football practice or in his backyard mowing the lawn with his shirt off. But this? He has the body of a man. Abs carved of steel. Arms that could hold back hundreds of enemy forces. A waist that was
both agile and firm, with a—
“Do you see that penis ravine? Jesus Christ.” Rachel reads my thoughts.
Bianca chokes on a laugh. “Oh my God, penis ravine is right. You could pour liquid danger down those things.”
My cheeks burst into flames. “Guys, seriously? That’s gross.”
Actually, the name is hilarious, but Everett has swung his gaze our way and I know he just heard Rachel’s little nicknames for the muscles leading right to his, well …
Penis.
“Um, no it’s not. That’s a beautiful sight right there.” Bianca bows as if Everett’s abs are royalty.
And while I can’t help but stare, and my loins are ablaze with the need to touch said royal abs, I’m pissed. He hasn’t bothered to even come check on me tonight, much less act like we’re together, which we said we are. And now he’s taking off his clothes for a hundred people we went to high school with? Clearly, attention isn’t something he’s trying to shy away from.
It’s just attention with me he’s shying away from.
A flip switches in me, and probably the three vodka cranberries that aid it. I don’t need him to come over to me. I’m not this desperate, needy girl. I won’t wait around for the guy I’m with to acknowledge me. If I want him, I’m going to get him.
Marching across the party without another word, it takes about twenty clomps of my boots in the dust to reach Everett. Once I do, I’m pushing him backward, like a force not to be reckoned with, as his astonished face sparkles down at me. My fingers tangle in the ridiculously sexy hair on his chest, and an expression of amusement plays on his good looks as he doesn’t resist, but moves backward as I push him.
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