Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

32. Kavi

KAVI

It’s some time after nine P.M, and I’ve counted the same glow-in-the-dark stars covering the ceiling in my room at least twelve times. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten a different count for them each time, too.

I still remember when Dad helped me stick them on, along with the now half-working string lights around my big window. He’d come home late from work and, despite his exhaustion, he’d seen a glimmer of excitement in my face since Nathan’s passing and couldn’t refuse my request. He knew how much I wanted my own space after sharing a room with Neil for so long. And if the inexpensive decor was the only way to put a smile on his daughter’s face, then he was determined to do it.

My phone vibrates with a text on my bed and the crack in my heart widens. I don’t have to pick it up to know who it is, and for a while I stay unmoving, searching my faux night sky for a path forward.

I already know what the text will say; I can feel that in my gut. Something to the effect of, “Where are you?” or “Can we talk?”

What’s really left to talk about?

Sure, he doesn’t know I was eavesdropping on his conversation with Madison, but do I really need him to rip my heart out of my chest by telling me what I already know in person?

That it was never meant to be anything more than a fling. That the terms were clear, and he wasn’t going to make an exception.

That it was fun while it lasted, but he doesn’t know how to commit to anything more, nor does he want to. That while I’m sweet and was a wonderful distraction for the summer, I’m not his type long-term.

That I can keep the cherry earrings, but can he please get his keys back? That it’s not me, it’s him.

Oh God. If he says that last line, I’ll head back to his condo right then and cut all his stupid neck ties in half!

Still, like the doomed moth to an incinerating flame, my hand reaches for the phone.

Captain CrankyDick

Where did you go? You’ve been out a while.

My throat feels dry since I never replenished the liquid I lost through my tears this evening, and I have no more to cry.

Is this what acceptance feels like?

Did I miss that phase of denial, or did some part of me already know it was all too good to be true?

My mind wants me to rage, to jab my index finger into his chest and make him admit he duped me—that he’d planned to be rid of me from the beginning, but never had the balls to tell me until I was leaving—while my heart feels too drained and too battered to even hear his rebuttal.

I loved him.

I love him.

Madly.

With a certainty that still clings to my bones.

And somewhere along the way, like a foolish schoolgirl, I was convinced he loved me, too.

Fresh tears sting the corners of my eyes as I pull the phone in front of my face and type out a planned response.

Me

Hey! I got a call from my mom while I was out walking. She sounded really sick, so I decided to catch a cab back home.

And though I’d felt no remorse at the time I’d thought of what I was going to tell Hudson when he checked up on me, guilt now unfurls underneath my ribs with the blatant lie.

Captain CrankyDick

Is she alright? Do you need anything?

I stifle a chuckle at the last question.

Do I need anything?

Yeah, Hudson, I need something you’ll never give me. Care to ask what, or will you shove that under your overpriced rug, too, pretending you’ll never have to face it, much like you did with every other aspect of our relationship?

Me

Just the flu, but I think I’ll need to take a couple of days off to help her.

His response comes back immediately. So immediately, in fact, that I have to wonder if he’s relieved I’ve asked for the time off so he doesn’t have to see me.

Captain CrankyDick

Yeah, absolutely. Take all the time you need.

Me

Thank you.

Captain CrankyDick

I’m heading to Portland tomorrow, but perhaps we can talk when I’m back on Sunday evening? I know that was all unexpected with Maddy today, but I need to chat with you about something.

My bottom lip trembles as a bitter chuckle leaves it. Oh-fucking-sure. I should have played the lottery today based on the fact that I knew he’d say he’d want to talk in that vague tone that leaves no room for interpretation as to exactly what that so-called “talk” is.

Brushing an angry tear off my cheek with the back of my hand, I pound out my second lie.

Me

Yep, absolutely.

Though the latemorning sky is bathed in sunlight three days later, the weight on my chest remains, unaffected by its brightness. And while that rain has passed after weeks of thunderstorms, my eyes constantly threaten tears.

With my chin resting in my palm and my fingers tapping my cheek mindlessly, I look out the large picture window at the passersby while I wait for Madison at the coffee shop we agreed on.

Since that cringe-worthy evening she caught me in her father’s home—wearing his shirt, no less—I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to face her again. I promised her a chat and she certainly deserves that, given our friendship and the grace she’s shown me time and time again. I’d expect the same if the roles were reversed.

The past three days have stripped me of more than just my hunger, sleep, and smiles, they’ve emptied me of the pain as well. Now there’s just a hollowed me. An anesthetized me.

I laid awake each night wondering if Hudson was as broken up as I was at the thought of a future without one another. Wondering whether he was distraught at the idea of breaking things off with me tonight, or had he prepared himself long ago because “the terms were clear”.

Did the past two months mean anything to him? His spoken words certainly made me believe they did, but I suppose it was always the unspoken ones I should have been listening to.

He’s messaged me a couple of times to ask if we can chat on the phone, but I’ve purposely left his messages unread, sending him a pithy response like, Sorry, was busy with Mom, hours later.

And if he’s wondering whether something is up, he’s biting his tongue until we speak tonight.

“Kavi, hi!”

I’m shaken from my stupor at the sound of Madison’s voice, and for a second, I wonder how long she’s been standing here. I rise to greet her, somewhat on autopilot, when she wrinkles her brows, examining her watch. “Am I late? I thought we agreed to meet at ten.”

I shake my head, letting her pull me into a surprisingly warm hug. “No, you’re right on time, as always. I just got here a little early.”

Putting her designer handbag on the table, Madison settles into a chair, noticing the medium mocha latte in front of her and arching a blonde brow. “For me?”

My face warms, my lips curving up with a hesitant smile. “A peace offering. It should still be hot.”

I’d remembered the coffee she’d ordered the last time we’d met here, but unlike last time, when I had all of fifty-nine cents left to my name, I ordered myself my favorite crème br?lée macchiato as well.

She takes a long sip, keeping her blue-gray eyes on me, as if taking the moment to study my sincerity. “I won’t lie, that, uh . . . that night caught me off-guard. Though, I really shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I’m sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Madison.” I steeple my fingers together, laying my hands on the table and circling my thumbs around the other. “I don’t blame you for being as surprised as you were. I would have reacted the same way in your shoes.”

Madison tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, shaking her head and making her ponytail sway. “Truthfully, I had a feeling my dad was seeing someone. Just something about the way he carried himself at my wedding. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but there was an air of excitement and happiness around him. I was actually going to ask him after the cake cutting, but got distracted. I even mentioned it to Brie when we were on the flight that night. I figured he’d tell me when I got back from my honeymoon but, yeah . . .” She looks out the window near us briefly, as if gathering her thoughts. “I just didn’t expect it to be one of my good friends.”

I wrap my hand around her wrist, my stomach going topsy-turvy. “I’m sorry for betraying your trust. Honestly, what happened between Hudson and I wasn’t planned.” I take a breath, warding off memories of the searing kiss in Hudson’s office and all the times we made love. His hands, his lips, those stormy-sea eyes that held me hostage as he ravished my body. “It sort of just . . . happened.”

“That’s what Dad said to me as well. He also said—”

“Actually,” I interrupt, refocusing the conversation for the reason I’m really here, our friendship. I also don’t want to hear anything more about what he said to her—I heard enough before I left his place that night. “I’d really prefer not to talk about your dad right now. What’s more important to me is whether you and I are still good. Your friendship means the world to me, and I never meant to hurt you. I hope you don’t think I took advantage or that this was some premeditated plan in any way.”

Madison turns her palm, capturing mine inside it. “We’re still good. I know this was something that caught you both by surprise, but I refuse for our friendship to be in question because of it. You’re important to me, too, Kavi, so despite what happens between you and my dad, we will always stay friends.”

Despite what happens between you and my dad . . .

My nose tingles and I quickly blink back the pricks of tears at the backs of my eyes, knowing she knows more than she’s letting on and respecting her for not betraying Hudson’s trust.

“I’m so glad to hear that.” I give her a relieved smile before taking a sip of my coffee, hoping it tamps down my tumultuous emotions. “Now, tell me more about your honeymoon.”

Jojo’s smile widens,her eyes wandering down my raincoat. “You kept it? Did you even try taking off the paint?”

I follow her gaze, taking in the patches of purple and navy paint from the night she hugged me inside that dank, dark shed. “Why would I? I think it looks more beautiful now.”

She giggles and there’s not a word to describe how happy I am to hear it. It’s chirpy and young, exactly how a teenager should sound when they’re genuinely content.

I’d asked her to meet me a few minutes before our class so I could catch up with her, given this is our last class.

I’ve gotten close to all the kids, so this class will definitely be bittersweet, but I feel good about having given them a new outlet for channeling their emotions in a constructive way. And though I won’t be here physically for them after this class, hopefully they’ll be able to rely on what they’ve learned to persevere and paint their future with vivid colors.

To this day, I’m saddled by my guilt for not having helped Nathan somehow—perhaps if I’d known he was in trouble earlier or if I could have convinced him not to follow those awful kids after school—but with every class I teach and every student I help, some of that melancholy and remorse lessens.

So, in a way, each student has helped me as much as I’ve helped them.

I give Jojo a hug before gently grasping her biceps. “How are you? Was that a little snort I caught at the end of your laugh?”

She laughs again, bobbing her head up and down. “I’m good. Things are good at home and with Max.”

My curiosity piques. “Yeah? Have you guys been going to counseling?”

She nods again. “I think we all needed it. There was a lot of repressed anger and resentment that needed to be addressed. We haven’t resolved all of it yet, but we’re laughing more as a family and talking things out before they become bigger, you know what I mean?”

A smile spreads across my face. “That’s great to hear. And you and Max are getting along?”

She shrugs. “She leaves a spot open for me to sit with her at her lunch table every day, and her and her friends don”t wreck my room anymore, so I’d say that’s progress. Though she could work on not rolling her eyes with every sentence, but maybe that’s too much to ask for at this point.”

I laugh. “Yeah, maybe one step at a time.”

A few students filter in, and I remember the gift I brought for Jojo. Taking out a raincoat similar to mine from my bag, I hand it to her. I’d asked all the students to bring a shirt or a sweatshirt since we were going to be painting those today.

Jojo’s eyes widen to saucers. “You got me the same jacket as yours?”

“You like it?” I ask, my heart squeezing at the emotion on her face. “I thought we could have matching ones. Maybe you can paint this one to look like mine.” I pause, clearing my throat. “You might not know this, but that moment inside the shed with you was monumental for me, too.”

Because I fought my urge to run, to resist, and to cower. I pushed past the roll of my stomach and the pounding of my heart at the idea of going inside that small, dark space.

Though I may not have conquered all my fears that night, I certainly didn’t return defeated.

And while that night was a pivotal moment for both of us—especially Jojo—there’s another reason it will always remain etched in my memory.

Him.

The man standing beneath his umbrella, rain pelting down around him in cascades under the inky sky, waiting patiently without a trace of knowledge as to when I’d reemerge from that shed. A man ready to wait indefinitely without me even asking him to.

A man who never questioned me when I came back out looking like I’d fought a war within myself, somehow knowing that was the last thing I needed. He simply walked me back to his truck and took me home.

A man who’s no longer mine.

“I’d love that!” Jojo chimes, pulling me out of my memories and into a hug. “Except, I have a feeling you’ll want to trade when you see mine.”