Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
Scarlett
Crying in the shower is fun until the water turns freezing and you’re shivering through your own tears.
The timed showers are evil, and they’ve forced me to wrap one towel around my body and another around my hair as I sprint to our room with my caddy full of toiletries.
I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts that I forgot to bring my clothes and my shower shoes with me.
The risk of athlete’s foot is going to haunt me tonight.
But I don’t dwell on that. Instead, I head straight for my room and change into some warm clothes. I quickly blow-dry my hair and get ready to head out.
Then I notice there’s a voicemail on my phone, and it’s from the prison. Shit! I missed it again.
“Hi, this is Risa from MCI-Norfolk. I’m calling to let you know that your visit with an inmate at the facility scheduled for the twentieth of this month has been canceled.
The inmate has denied visitation. At this time, we are unable to reschedule, but you may contact the visitation office during regular business hours for more information. Thank you, and have a good day.”
My phone slips from my grasp, and tears well in my eyes. He said no? I feel the weight of that response sink into me heavily. But then something hardens in my chest, and the tears stop. I push that news far into my mind, forcing myself not to open it. Not now.
It’s been a week since I called out of my volunteering shift at the shelter.
I feel terrible because the coordinator, Neha, has been texting me updates from the lemonade stand I was supposed to help the kids with.
It’s not a real one in a suburban neighborhood, but one for the people at the shelter, who toss in a few coins to make the kids happy.
There’s a slight sheen of condensation covering my windshield, but I don’t have time to let it clear all the way. I’ve barely pulled out of the parking lot of Iona when a dark figure suddenly jumps in front of my car.
I shriek, pressing on the break immediately, and let out another horrified gasp when the figure drops onto the cold cement.
Oh my God.
I park, then unbuckle my seat belt, frantically going to check on the person I just killed. He’s flat on the ground, hand on his chest…and then I notice his tattoos.
I just hit Kian Ishida with my car.
“Kian? Are you okay?” I crouch down to feel his pulse, relaxing the tiniest bit when I feel the faint thump. “Kian! Wake up!”
He doesn’t move as I try to shake him awake, but then I see it. The suppressed laugh and how he opens one eye to look at me. I narrow my eyes, and then he grins.
“Hey, Scar.”
My shoulders and my breath sag all at once, and I push him hard. “You scared the crap out of me!”
I try to stand, but he places his hand on my thigh, staring up at me with the same desperation I saw from him two days ago. “Just hear me out.”
I scoff. “I thought I killed you!”
We both stand, and I’m already taking a step back. “But you didn’t. See, alive and well.” He stretches out his arms, lifting his shirt and bunching his biceps all at once. I look away.
“Maybe I should have kept driving,” I mutter and his smile fades. Good.
“You weren’t talking to me. I had to take some liberties.”
I shake my head, walking back to my car and feeling him following closely behind. “We’re talking right now. Happy?”
“No. This isn’t what I meant. Just hear me out, Scar.”
I reach for my car handle but the soft “Please” that leaves his lips makes me pause.
I reluctantly gesture for him to continue.
“I know sorry isn’t going to cut it. That letter was personal, and I should have stopped reading the minute I realized it was yours.
Hell, I shouldn’t have opened it in the first place.
That was a dick move, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like I’d forced you into being vulnerable before you were ready. ”
I’m being stubborn, but for once I just wanted to feel what I felt without taking someone else’s emotions into consideration.
But now, as Kian is being more sincere than anyone has been with me, I give a little.
“I know you weren’t trying to be malicious.
You don’t need to explain yourself to me.
We have a deal, and that’s what we should be focusing on. ”
“It’s not just about that.”
I furrow my brows. “Yes, it is. What else would it be?”
“You’re my friend, and I won’t let you pretend that’s not the truth.”
“But we agreed—”
“Forget the deal for one second. This is important.” His voice drops. “I don’t…I know what it feels like to not have someone to talk to about the bad shit. So maybe we can be that for each other.”
My thoughts tumble like Jenga blocks. He’s pulled out the block on the very foundation of why we’re even—whatever this is. Without that, I’m not sure what to call it.
“But we’re helping each other because of our deal.”
“I’m helping you because I like you.” Kian looks at me for so long, my breath shallows. “You are my friend. You are a person. You deserve respect, and anyone who doesn’t give it to you knows they’ll have to face me first.”
Every word he speaks tugs another pin from the fragile armor I’ve pieced together since meeting him.
I’ve spent my whole life wearing my heart on my sleeve, and all it’s ever earned me is the same wound in different shapes.
I wrote Victor letter after letter, pouring myself out on paper, and he never once responded.
Even in my testimony, I told him I loved him, that I always would—but I couldn’t keep watching him hurt my mom. He didn’t even flinch.
“I’m not asking you to tell me everything. I’m asking you to let me be here, so when you want to share, it’s with me.”
Kian looks at me with those heartbreakingly innocent eyes, coaxing me to open up to him, not now but later. I have a feeling he’d wait however long it took.
“If you don’t want to hear anything, read it. I wrote you another letter since the last one didn’t reach you.”
It did reach me, and from the look on his face he knew it. When I went to the library a few days ago, Alice handed it to me. She insisted that I open it, but I couldn’t. He’d read all about my life, knowing more intimate things about me than any man I’ve slept with. That terrifies me.
He holds out another letter for me. It’s sealed in an envelope and the word Nonrefundable is written across it. I bite the inside of my lip, keeping myself from smiling. But I can’t help myself, so I open it.
Dear Scarlett,
If you’re reading this, that means this letter actually made it to you, which means you’re giving me a chance.
There’s no excuse for reading something so personal, and I promise I didn’t mean to overstep.
The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you, Scar.
You’re my friend, and I take that relationship very seriously.
If you want space, I’ll give it to you. If you want words, I have more than I probably should. I’ll earn your forgiveness, I promise.
Eternally groveling,
Kian
I fold the letter carefully, smoothing the creases before sliding it back into the envelope. Kian doesn’t move, the quiet in his posture so deliberate it makes me wonder if he’s afraid to disturb whatever storm could be brewing.
When I finally meet his eyes, he’s still there, his gaze heavy with anticipation. He watches me like he regrets the letter. “I know it’s not much, but—”
“You can’t read people’s letters,” I say, my voice softer this time.
He crouches, tilting his face to mine so our eyes are level and leaning in just enough to fill my view. “Can you look at me?”
Those words make my chest feel like it’s imploding. Even in that small, intimate movement, there’s a weight to him, like an insistence that I see him.
His gaze softens, if that’s even possible, and he tucks some of my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do that again. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t make promises. Things change, you know.”
Kian shakes his head. “Not for me. I always mean it.”
There’s a minute of silence when he lets the words float into the tiny space between us. “I hate that I actually believe that.”
Kian smiles. “Yeah?”
“You know it’s impossible to be mad at you, don’t you?”
He chuckles. “You can be, you know. If that’s how you feel, you don’t have to give in to me easily.”
I shake my head, letting my palm press against his cheek.
My own gesture surprises me. For me, touch has always been reserved for the intimacy behind closed doors.
But there’s something about Kian, how comfortable he makes me just by existing.
He’s disarming, and with him, I almost crave the platonic touch.
“I think you deserve easy.” Kian blinks like it’s a foreign concept, leaning into my hand. “You don’t have to break your back proving yourself to me. I already know.”
“Know what?”
“That you’re good.” I take his face in both hands. “That you’ve never done anything to be a bad person.” I press a hand to his chest, right over his fast-beating heart. “This right here deserves everything it’s given to others.”
His shoulders slump a little. Like he’s letting something go, almost like he believed it. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay, Kian.”
Those words do more for him than anything else.
“Is this a bad time to ask you to look over my assignment?”
I shove him, not hard but enough to make him stumble. He catches himself, laughing under his breath.
“Can I hug you now?”
“Yeah, Kian. You can hug me.”
He pulls me in tight, like he needs proof I’m really here. When he finally lets go, his hands linger at my elbows, his thumb brushing once before he drops them.
“Where were you going before you hit me with your car?”
“I didn’t—” I sigh. “To the women’s shelter.”
“Can I come?”
I pause. The shelter loves new people, especially if they’re vetted by someone who’s volunteered with them for a long time.
“Are you sure? Don’t you have other plans?”
He shakes his head.
“If they have space they’ll probably put you in the kitchen, so you don’t have to.”
Kian nods. “I’m great at peeling potatoes.”
I watch him. “I already forgave you. You don’t need to do this.”
“I know, but I want to.”
I don’t know what to expect when Kian climbs into my car and actually lets me drive to the women’s shelter. But it’s definitely not the way he lights up the place the second we walk in. I should’ve known though. He’s sunlight in human form.
I introduce him to Neha, but just as she’s going to show him the office where he can help, one of the kids is pulling on his arm, urging him to follow them.
“Do you know how to play?” she asks him, handing him a basketball.
He smiles. “I’m a hockey player, but I think I can figure it out. Do you wanna play?”
When she nods, he looks over at Neha, who also nods, letting him take over the court, the rest of the kids joining in.
It’s a cute moment, and I should’ve known Kian could persuade one of the moms who sits nearby on a lawn chair to join in. It’s like the urge to play outside spreads to everyone, and a few more women follow.
I stay on the sidelines, laughing, even as Kian waves me over with a grin.
“Is that your boyfriend?” one of the kids at the snack table asks, eyes bouncing between him and me.
“He’s my frie—”
“Is he nice to you?” she asks.
Something cracks in my chest. “He’s the nicest person I’ve ever known.”
The girl beams and looks past me to Kian, who pretends to fumble the ball, letting one of the moms dunk on him. Then he turns to bow down to her as she taunts him.
Yeah, I never stood a chance.