Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
KENNEDY
I’m tuned in to every noise from outside as I check into a room and leave my credit card details on file. I’m dripping all over the floorboards, and I don’t remember a check-in ever taking so damn long, but the seconds drag by with me expecting to walk out of here and find Ziggy gone again.
I’m not sure what’s going through his head, but I’ve got whiplash, and between him running off and me finding him again, it’s been the most confusing half hour of my life.
I’ve gone from worried I offended him, to being kissed senseless, to thinking I fucked-up again, to pissed off that I’m feeling that way at all.
Whatever that was, I enjoyed it, and if Ziggy didn’t, well, he needs to tell me that.
It doesn’t have to be out loud, but it’s time we started to understand each other for real.
I’ve spent most of my time trying to interpret his silences, but I’m not sure he’s ever tried to interpret my words. It needs to go both ways.
“Enjoy your stay,” the middle-aged man says, handing over a room key with a large number fourteen stamped onto the wooden tag.
I thank him and hurry back to the car, only feeling like I can breathe properly again when I see Ziggy still sitting inside it. He’s not looking my way, so I venture back into the rain and open his door. “Let’s go and get dry.”
He doesn’t look at me as he climbs out, and I don’t know if he’s mad at me for something or if he regrets everything tonight as much as I do, but I’m going to find out. Maybe this storm will be good for us.
He follows me up the rickety stairs and to one of the second-floor rooms. We catch some stray rain being blown in sideways, but it’s not like it matters at this point. I’m drenched, feeling heavy in my limbs, and still spiraling over how the hell we got to this point.
The room is basic with navy carpet, white bedding, and one queen bed standing proudly in the center.
I probably should have paid more attention at check-in.
Saying there were two of us could have been more specific.
I sigh and toss the keys onto the chipboard desk, eyeing the tiny chair in the corner to work out if it’s large enough for me to curl up on or whether I should head back out there and request another room.
Ziggy closes the door behind us and dulls the sounds of the storm.
Fuck it, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to. I just want to get dry.
I switch on the lamp and cross to the small closet, hoping to find towels or spare sheets, but instead, we get ridiculously lucky. There are two white robes hanging side by side.
I take one and hand it to Ziggy. “Go shower and warm up. We’ll talk once you’re done.”
He hesitates, gaze warily sliding from me to the robe. Then he takes it and closes himself in the bathroom.
I really should shower next, but the thought of dragging out this talk any longer is rattling me, so instead, I peel out of my wet clothes, hang them over the hanger in the closet, and then dry off with a towel as much as I can.
I’ve just pulled the robe on when the bathroom door cracks open, and Ziggy walks out in his. Considering I didn’t hear the shower, I’m guessing he couldn’t wait either.
“S-sorry,” he whispers.
That knocks all the annoyance from me.
I drop down to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just want to understand what happened.”
He takes a shaky breath, then nods. His hair is still damp, and chunks of it are hiding his eyes, but I know he can see me when I pat the spot beside where I’m sitting. It only takes a moment of debating with himself before he joins me.
“We were having fun,” I start. “Then that guy got involved, and I thought I fucked it up because I left you out of the conversation. I didn’t mean to, but I was getting annoyed with him and wanted to put him in his place, which, when I think back over it, there’s no way for you to have known.
I’m … protective of people. It’s not only a you thing, but I didn’t like the way he dismissed you.
” I scratch at the side of my thumbnail.
“I felt horrible, then you kissed me and I felt incredible, and then you ran off and I felt worse than I did before that. I don’t like being confused, and I hate the thought that I upset you.
So if we’re going to be friends, we need to know more about each other.
” I finally get the courage to look over at him, and he’s watching me from the corner of his eyes.
“It’s okay if talking isn’t possible. You never have to say another word to me if you don’t want to.
Maybe we can get by with yes or no questions.
Or you can write shit down.” This restlessness prickles in my gut as Ziggy wraps his arms around himself.
“I like to think I’m good at reading people, but considering what a failure all my relationships have been, maybe that’s not true.
I’m tired of guessing. I’m tired of never knowing where I fuck up.
” It’s possible that I didn’t realize until this moment how messed up I’ve been over all the rejection.
I try and try so damn hard, and the more I’m pushed away, the more determined I am next time.
Something tells me that most people don’t go into a new relationship with the aim of proving the last person wrong.
Ziggy looks like he’s about to faint, and his breathing is louder, quicker than usual.
“Not now,” I add, turning to him. “It’s okay if it’s not now or soon. I’m not going to push. As long as you promise not to be mad at me if I make a mistake, I can wait as long as you need. Anything you need, Ziggy.”
It takes almost a full minute of him struggling to control his breathing.
All I want is to know how to help. How to react in these conversations and make things better for him.
But he gets himself there, and once he does, he rests his hand on the bed between where we’re sitting and runs his pinky over my thigh.
I watch him for a few seconds. “Does that mean you’ll try?”
He’s not looking at me when he nods.
I can work with this.
Small steps.
“Are you feeling up for some questions now?”
Another steady breath and another nod.
I tap one of his Band-Aids. “Do you hurt yourself a lot?”
He shakes his head.
“You have been lately.”
He nods again.
“Can you tell me? What you’ve been doing?”
No.
I was ready for the response, even if it’s not the one I wanted. “Did … did you like hanging out today? Up until …”
Yes.
“That’s a relief. Because you can say no if you don’t want to do something. I don’t care what we’re doing as long as we both have fun.”
He brushes some of the hair from his eyes and turns to me. I’m still a work in progress, but that’s a pretty clear sign he’s not trying to distance himself from this conversation anymore.
“I really want to know why you ran out on our game,” I whisper. “Could you write it down, maybe?”
His expression gets dark. “No.”
The fact that he forced himself to speak when he could have shaken his head is proof he doesn’t like not being able to answer me, but he’s trying to give me something. “Okay. Can you at least tell me if it’s because you were mad at me?”
No.
“You weren’t mad?”
I wasn’t.
Well, that rules out one of a million things it could have been. But it’s a start.
“Ziggy …” I should probably shut up, but when have I ever been good at that?
“I don’t know what I’m doing here. All I know is that when I met you, I could tell you’re a good person.
I like when we hang out, and I like every time I learn a new thing about you.
It’s fun. You’re fun. And for the first time in maybe years, I have someone I can be myself around.
There’s no pressure to be cooler or funner or sweeter.
I don’t have to impress you with expensive things.
” My mind is spiraling, and I have no idea where I’m going with any of this.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you make me feel safe.
There’s no judgment.” Slowly, I reach for his hand, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t pull it away.
“And I want you to know that you’re safe with me too.
Not sure why, but it feels important to say it.
Out loud. You can talk with me, or you can not talk with me, whatever you want. I will never, ever judge you. Ever.”
His hand tightens around mine. “Thank you.”
The weakness to his words flickers my protective side. “Have you always been like this? Afraid to talk.”
His eyes widen, and I don’t break contact as he studies me.
“Did someone make you afraid?”
“Y-yes.”
This time, I’m the one gripping him harder. I had a suspicion, but suspecting something like this and having it confirmed are two wildly different things. I’m trying to keep my anger down, trying to protect this safe space I want for us both, but fuck. “Since you got to Wilde’s End?”
No.
“Before?”
Yes.
Another piece of his puzzle slots into place.
I brush his hair back some more and lean closer. “I’m a pacifist. I like people. I like making people happy. But if I ever meet whoever did this to you … I’ll beat them to a pulp.”
He swallows thickly, and it’s hard not to do the same.
“You didn’t deserve that. And I’m so damn sorry.”
Ziggy’s expression is too hard to read, but whatever is going through his head looks like a struggle. He lifts a shaky hand to my cheek, and his fingers, still cold from outside, scrape over my stubble. I lean into his touch, hoping he feels as close to me as I feel to him.
“Kennedy …”
I almost choke at the sound of my name. “Yeah?”
“You said … earlier … that you … liked our kiss?”
Nerves tickle my gut before he has all the words out. “Yeah. Wasn’t it obvious?”
“I thought you kissed me because you felt guilty.”
Understanding over why he ran away hits hard. I cover his hand with mine. “I would never. The second you started kissing me, it was like I completely forgot how to think. I was only focused on how good it felt.”
The warring emotions in his face slip away as his lips tug up on one side. He opens his mouth twice before he can get the words out on a rasp. “Want to forget how to think again?”