A yawn escapes her mouth, and I notice the dark circles rimming her eyes and her wan skin. “You look tired. Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?”
“No,” she says, stifling another yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep the last couple of nights.”
Carefully, I slip my arm over her shoulder, mentally cringing when she stiffens. “Let me give you a ride to your dorm. You look dead on your feet.”
She ducks out from under my arm. “It’s fine, Kal. I can get the bus.” She starts walking away. “But thanks again for this,” she calls over her shoulder.
Ignoring her friends, I run after her, planting myself directly in her path so she has no choice but to stop. “Would you please stop running off.” It takes considerable effort not to show my frustration.
She looks at her feet, nibbling on her lower lip.
“Lana. Look at me.” I fold my arms.
She lifts her head. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks softly.
I scratch the side of my head. “Because I care about you, and I want you back in my life. You’re my best friend, Lana.” My throat catches. “Can’t we be friends again?” It’s not what I want, but I figure I need to move slow. Ease her into this gently.
“I don’t understand why you want to. I don’t understand how you can forgive me.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the crux of the issue.
My arms drop to my sides. I peer into her eyes. “Look. Please can we go somewhere to talk? I know you’re tired, and I won’t keep you long, but we can’t put this off indefinitely. We’ve left too much unsaid. Let’s just talk about what happened and take it from there?” Indecision is written all over her face. I duck my head down so I’m more on her level, pouting as I give her my best puppy dog eye expression. “Please, honeybun. One coffee. One chat. And if you still want nothing to do with me, then I’ll back off. Scout’s honor.” She knows I was never a scout, so I’m sure my lie is as transparent as the confusion on her face, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
She sighs. “Okay.”
I mentally fist-pump the air, sending a shit-eating grin her way. You’d swear I just won the fucking lottery. Very carefully, I take a light hold of her elbow and steer her across the road, conscious of her friend’s watchful attention.
She waves them off as I open the door and she climbs in.
I switch the A/C on as I kick the engine into gear. “That little place around the corner from your dorm okay?”
“Sure.” Her lips press together, and she looks out the window, giving nothing away.
I scroll through my music, selecting her favorite U2 song. Her lips twitch as Bono’s dulcet tones resonate through the cab.
I park in front of the small coffee place, running around the front of my truck to open the door for her. “Thanks.” She offers me the barest of smiles. You’d swear I was leading her up the gangplank or something. Not for the first time, I kick myself for all the ways I’ve unintentionally hurt her.
We place our orders and take a small table at the back, near the window. Lana removes her sweater, placing it over the top of the chair. She clasps her hands together on the table, and I notice she’s shaking. I lean forward in my seat. “Don’t be nervous. It’s only me.”
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” she says, as the waitress appears with our lattes.
“Believe it, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”
She is pensive as she licks the froth off the top of her cup. “So, um, how are we going to do this?”
“Why don’t I go first?” I suggest, putting my coffee down. She nods. “Just hear me out before you interrupt, okay? I’ve come a long way to say this.” She nods again, gulping as she drums her fingers off the table. Fiery reddish undertones glisten in her long hair as she moves her head, and I long to reach over and weave my fingers through the strands.
When we were in elementary school, Greta used to style her hair every morning in the kitchen, and I developed a rather unhealthy fascination with it. I’d go into a trance each morning watching as Greta pulled the comb through her hair, scooping it up at the sides and pulling it back in a ponytail. That’s the very first time I remember sporting a semi.
Lana is watching me closely, and her lips are parted in anticipation.
“Sorry. I was just remembering how your mom used to do your hair in our kitchen every morning before school. I used to zone out watching you.”
Her eyes widen. “I never knew that.”
“There’s lots you don’t know.” Fact, friend.
Her answering smile is sad.
“Faye gave me your letter. I must’ve read it like a million times.” I retrieve the creased envelope from my back pocket, placing it on the table between us. “It made me cry the first time I read it.” Man, if any of my brothers was a fly on the wall, I’d never live that admission down. “I never meant to hurt you, Lana. I thought I was protecting you, but I know now that I went about everything all wrong. You have always been the only one for me, but I shouldn’t have shut you out and refused to tell you what I was feeling.”
A tear trickles out of the corner of her eye, but she swipes it away. “Last year, when I said those things, I meant them. I thought I was ready to commit to you, but I guess I wasn’t fully on board with it if I could let Addison get her hooks in me like she did. It doesn’t matter that I was drunk and pissed or that our relationship was in limbo. You’ve been there for me my whole life. You accepted all my shit, without question, and I let you down after you’d given me everything. I will never forgive myself for that.”
“Don’t. Please don’t do that.” Anguish is clear in her eyes, and more tears are threatening to breach the surface. “Don’t blame yourself because this is so not your fault.”
“That’s not the way I see it,” I answer truthfully. “I hurt you over and over. I knew you had feelings for me, and I deliberately refused to confront them or my own. I continued to play the field, even though I knew it upset you. I was a total ass, and my actions drove you to do it. I placed you in Addison’s lair. I’m as guilty as she is.”
“Oh my God,” she cries, leaning over the table. There’s a glint of anger in her gaze. “I can’t believe you think that! You are so wrong! It doesn’t matter that I was wounded. That didn’t give me the right to say what I said, to do what I did. Nothing can excuse that, and if you think telling me you understand makes it all right, then you don’t know me. I can’t let you take the blame. I won’t let you.” She shakes her head adamantly.
Fuck it. I reach out and take her soft hands in mine. “We’ve both made mistakes, baby. Why can’t we agree we were both wrong and put it behind us? Move forward instead?”
“It would never work, Kal.”
“Why the hell not?” I demand, trying to keep a leash on my temper. Tears slide down her face, and fresh strips rip from my heart. I’ve always hated to see her cry. “Don’t cry, honeybun. Please.”
“You may think you’ve forgiven me, but you can’t have. Not really. At some point, you’d start to resent me, and it would destroy us. I would rather hold onto whatever good memories I have than see everything turn to crap.”
“I never took you for a coward, Lana.” She attempts to snatch her hands back, but I hold on tighter. I’m not ready to let her go.
“I’m a realist, Kal.”
“Answer me this. Do I truly own a piece of your heart, Lana? Is it still mine?”
“You already know the answer.”
Her voice is cracked, and it chips away at my soul.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a couple of girls at another table whispering and looking over at us. One of them eyeballs me, glaring daggers. Ignoring them, I refocus on the fragile creature seated across from me. Lana can be stubborn as all hell when she wants to be, and she’s not ready to let go of this yet. I can se
e I have my work cut out for me. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Why torture yourself? Us?”
“Lana,” I hiss, straining across the table. “Because I won’t give up hope if you still love me. If you tell me you have no feelings for me anymore, then I’ll leave you alone. I promise. But if you tell me you still care, then I’m not giving up on us. One of us has to fight.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up one finger. “I need the truth, Lana. You owe me that much.” I can’t make it easy for her to lie. If she honestly tells me she’s over me, I will walk away. I’m not going to force her to feel something she no longer feels. It will kill me, but I’ll do it.
She’s full on crying now. A shadow darkens the table, and the girl from the other table looms over us. She plants a cautious hand on Lana’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” Her tone is soft, but her expression is furious as she levels it in my direction. “Is he hassling you?”
“What?” Lana looks up at her, furiously swiping at the moisture under her eyes. “No, of course not!”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes penetrate Lana’s. “He has history, and you don’t have to be afraid.”
“Oh my God.” Lana yanks her hands from mine, clamping one over her mouth. She looks horrified.
“We are trying to have a private conversation,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m making sure she’s okay,” the stranger snaps.
I soften my tone and my look. “And I’m glad there are girls who look out for other girls, but you don’t have to worry about me, with her or anyone else.”
She stares at me in disbelief.
“Thank you for checking, but I assure you I’m fine. We’re … old friends, and just reminiscing about stuff that makes me sad,” Lana says. “Kal wouldn’t hurt me or any other girl. I know what you’re referring to, and he didn’t do it. All charges were dropped because he’s innocent.”
Now the girl sends daggers at Lana. “That proves nothing,” she scoffs. “No one will ever convince me he didn’t do it.” Her eyes narrow to slits as she glowers at me. Her hostile reaction may as well be a physical punch in the face.
Lana’s jaw pulls taut as she stands up. “He didn’t do it, and I should know because I’m the one who falsely accused him!”
Fuck! I can’t believe she admitted that. There goes her cover on campus.
The girl rocks back on her heels, blinking profusely. “You! It was you!?”
Lana stands her ground, straightening her back and jutting her chin up. “Yes, it was me. I’m not proud of what I did, and I wish I hadn’t done it. Kalvin Kennedy is innocent, and he doesn’t deserve your hatred. If you want to do good, spread that around. If you need someone to hate, hate me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we are trying to have a private conversation.”
“Bitch!” the girl snarls at Lana, and I jump out of my seat. Lana pierces me with a look straight from hell, and I quickly sit back down.
A deathly hush has settled over the room, as every single person is riveted on this conversation.
“You are entitled to your opinion, and believe me, I’ve thought worse things about myself,” Lana calmly replies.
Her eyes scan the room, noticing the captive audience. She looks at me with pleading eyes. “Can we get out of here?” I nod, tossing some cash on the table. I take her hand and usher her out the door. All eyes are on us as we depart, and I’m guessing it won’t take long before this gossip is shared across campus.
“Why did you do that?” I ask quietly when we are seated in the truck, twisting around so I’m facing her.
Her entire body is shaking, and I long to comfort her. “I cannot believe people still think you did it!” I shrug. It’s old news to me. “Does that happen a lot?”
I shrug again. “Reactions vary.” I don’t want to elaborate. She’s shouldering enough guilt as it is.
“That … that’s awful. God, I’m so sorry!” Deep lines furrow her brow. “I confessed publicly so you wouldn’t have to endure speculation, but it was pointless, wasn’t it? The damage was already done. That is why this can’t happen.” She gestures between us. “Don’t you see?” Her voice cracks on a loud sob. “You are much better off without me. I’m doing this for you! I want what’s best for you—and that’s not me!” She shakes her head, and more tears spill. I reach out to her, but she jerks back. “Don’t, Kal. Don’t try and console me. That will only make me feel worse.” Her eyes blaze with puissant emotion. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you! I don’t deserve your sympathy, your comfort, or your forgiveness. I sure as shit don’t deserve your love. I have never been worthy of you, even less so now.”
“Would you stop saying that!” I roar, losing control of my emotions. “Stop putting words in my mouth and thoughts in my head, and just listen to me.” I force myself to draw a calming breath. “I. Forgive. You.” I grip her chin, forcing her face to mine. “I love you, and I know you still love me. Fuck the rest of them. Fuck what they say about me. I don’t care. All I care about—all I’ve ever cared about—is you.”
She reaches up, cupping my face on one side. I lean into her hand, craving her touch as much as the cold Massachusetts air. “And I care about you,” she says softly in between tears. “But you don’t own a piece of my heart.”
Boulders form in my stomach at her words, and something inherent dies inside me.
“You own the whole damn thing,” she quietly admits, and it’s amazing how quickly my sorrow transforms to euphoria.
I open my mouth to speak, but she moves her hand, placing the tips of her fingers against my lips. I savor the feel of her skin against my mouth. My tongue darts out, and I snatch a quick taste. She gasps, jerking her hand back. “There is nothing you can say that’ll make this right. I messed everything up for us. I did this. Not you. I can’t let you take the blame, and you don’t have to do this. I’ve accepted my fate. I’ve come to terms with letting you go.”
“Aagh!!” I sag over the steering wheel, consumed with pent-up frustration. This is like going around in fucking circles. My brain is starting to pain me. I whip my head around. “How many times do I have to say it? I forgive you! Why isn’t that enough?”
Steely determination is etched across her face as she drills me with a serious look. “You have no idea how much I wish it was.” She has the door open with one leg out on the sidewalk before I’ve taken my next breath. “But it isn’t.”
I throw my hands into the air, beyond exasperated. “Why, Goddammit? Why not?” What the hell is wrong with this picture?
“Because I can never forgive myself.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lana
The nap was nonexistent after that encounter. I couldn’t find the off switch for my brain, and I spent the hour before my shift in bed staring at the ceiling, attempting to evict all thoughts of Kal from my mind.
It was a fruitless exercise, though.
He claimed permanent residence in my heart and my head a long time ago.
The rape support center is relatively quiet tonight. Mondays are always the same without any scheduled group therapy sessions. I yawn as I type up the reports Brenda gave me an hour ago. Between being up half the night Saturday with Hewson teething and my erratic sleep last night, I haven’t managed more than eight hours sleep in the past sixty hours. I’m running on coffee and adrenaline and fueled by a desperate need to occupy my headspace with anything besides the boy who refuses to go away.
Brenda steps into the office, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Would you mind sitting with the client until Lucinda is ready for her?”
“Flight risk?” I guess, and she nods. Showing up here is a huge step for most of these girls, but some can’t follow through, and they bail before they’ve even spoken to one of the center counselors. I can’t contemplate how difficult it must be to deal with something so intimately traumatic.
&nbs
p; While my tasks are usually confined to making coffee, typing up letters, reports, and various accounting sheets, sometimes Brenda asks me to sit with one of the girls to provide moral support.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Before I started volunteering here, I came completely clean about who I was and what I had done and why it was so important to me to work here. Since the attack, I haven’t been able to get the victims out of my head, and I think I’d go crazy if I wasn’t doing something to try to make amends.
“Hi.” I smile at the girl cowering on the low couch outside Lucinda’s office. “Would you mind if I sat with you?” She looks at me through terrified eyes. “Can I get you some water, tea, or coffee?”
“Water would be good.” Her smile is fragile. Nodding, I head to the kitchen and grab her a bottle. When I return, I sit down beside her, handing over the water. We sit in silence. Most times, the girls just need the moral support. Sometimes, we chat about everything and anything except the reason for their visit.
“Have you worked here long?” she asks after a little while.
“A couple months. I’m a freshman at UF, and I only moved into the dorms at the end of August.”
“I attend FIU in Miami, or at least I did until …” Her lower lip wobbles, as she brings the bottle to her mouth.
“First time here?” I ask softly, and she nods. Silence surrounds us again.
“No one knows what to say,” she blurts a few minutes later. I give her my undivided attention. “My family can’t look me in the face, and my boyfriend is afraid to touch me.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I thought the worst was over when I got away from … from him, but the nightmare was only starting.”
Her body is quaking, and my heart aches for her. I take her hand firmly in mine. “I’m sorry it happened to you.”
“I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve already relived it a couple of times—when I had to give statements—and it gets harder every time.”
“Lucinda is very easy to talk to, and there are no expectations. You can say as much or as little as you want to.”
Loving Kalvin (The Kennedy Boys Book 4) Page 11