Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
ZIGGY
Caroline. Caroline. Caroline. Caroline.
Why can’t she ever leave us the fuck alone? I’m panting hard by the time I get back to my place, fists clenched tight, this unsettled anger rattling through my bones.
The second I saw her pull up and Kennedy walk off with her, I felt like I was going to explode. If I’d gone down into Old End, I would have confronted her, maybe yelled at her a little. Kennedy doesn’t need to see that, just like I didn’t need to see him happily taking a stroll with her.
I kick the rock wall outside my mine as hard as I can. Pain shoots up my shin, and I have to catch my instinctive cry. This. Isn’t. Fair.
All I want to do is fall apart and sulk, and maybe throw something at her. Kennedy is mine. He’s mine.
I fist both hands in my hair, the sickly churning in my gut almost enough to make me double over. I hate this. I hate it so much.
Wilde’s right. Love is pain.
I turn my back on the rock wall and slide down until I’m sitting in the dirt. I force myself to be still, to keep gritting my teeth and not let these nasty feelings take over.
Kennedy didn’t ask her to come.
She might be pretty and flirty and easy to talk to, but he also hasn’t done anything to make me think he’s interested. He had the chance to date her, and he turned it down.
I suck a deep inhale through my teeth. Jealousy sucks. It’s worthless. And annoying. Like a bruise hovering over my heart, I keep nudging at it for the pain, because it’s easier to do that than be objective. Because if I’m objective, maybe a teeny tiny part of me worries I’ve overreacted.
I let the tension seep out of me, and even as my brain keeps trying to feed me images of the two of them together, I fight back against it.
After our date last night, it isn’t fair of me to doubt him. He opened up against all his worries and trusted me with them. Kennedy was real, raw, and the way we connected after that was more than I ever hoped I’d get with one person.
Things are good. So instead of playing into my anxieties, I need to let them go. For him.
Because it’s not fair on him to stress that he’s done something wrong—again—when the real issue is me.
Relationships are new, and apparently, jealousy isn’t something I can just get over. It feels as much a part of me as the loneliness, but I owe it to Kennedy not to let it take hold.
Because if it takes over, I don’t trust him.
And if I don’t trust him, we’ve lost.
I refuse to lose.
So I push back to my feet, trying to leave my bruised heart alone, and wipe off my jeans. I’m going to go to work, and everything will be fine. I’ll pretend like I didn’t see Caroline, no matter how desperately I want to know what they talked about, and I’ll just … get on with it.
There’s nothing else I can do.
I walk back down into Old End for the second time today, trying to ignore how I’m braced for what’s waiting for me.
Kennedy and Caroline being all happy, with his brothers speculating about whether they will or won’t get married.
It’s hard to acknowledge that maybe I’m taking this deeper than I should because I do think Caroline would be good for him.
She’d probably treat him well and be all cute and sweet and make him picnics too.
But I’m never going to give her the chance.
The anticipation is sending my pulse skyrocketing. I don’t want attention. I’ve wandered into all of those unspoken rules Rooney was talking about.
I’m unsettled and on edge by the time I get to the small town with its half-massacred houses looming over me.
But down the other end of the street, Caroline’s car is gone.
With everything crossed that Kennedy hasn’t gone with her, I pick up the pace. My tongue piercing plays at the backs of my teeth, and I listen closely for any hints as to where someone might be.
The white SUV is still parked on the road, so unless they all went with Caroline, at least one of them must be here.
I make a right, intending to slip between houses two and three, when I almost slam into someone. Hart grabs my shoulders, like he’s steadying me, but I manage to keep my footing.
“Sorry,” he says, as surprised as I am.
I nod his way and go to step around him.
“Kennedy’s in his room.”
That makes me pause, and I turn to Hart, questioning if he’s setting me up to see something I really don’t want to see.
“He’s mad though,” Hart continues. “Might not be the best company.”
Mad? What’s happened between him leaving this morning and now for that to have happened?
I give Hart a long, searching look, and when that gets me nowhere, I turn on my heel and head for the only untouched house on the street. I know the brothers have been living out of this one while they work, but I’ve never been inside.
It’s unlocked, and I push into the old house, not sure what to expect. There isn’t much to look at. A lot of it is untouched and dusty, but here and there are signs of life.
Supplies clutter the kitchen counter, a sheet has been laid out over an old sofa, and dishes are sitting in the sink. I glance around at the cracks between old shiplap walls and the boarded-up windows. How the hell can Kennedy call my place creepy when he lives here? It feels like a casket.
It’s silent downstairs, and I’m not comfortable exploring on my own.
“Kenny?” I call, having to try twice so my voice is loud enough.
“Up here.” His voice comes from near the stairs.
I climb them, listening to the groans of the treads underfoot, and thankfully, when I reach the top, I catch a glimpse of him in the first bedroom.
He’s on a mattress on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling.
Alone.
I keep walking until I reach the doorway, then lean my shoulder into it.
“Ziggy?” His eyebrows reach his hairline, and then he pats the mattress beside him.
I take the spot by his hip and look down into his face.
“It’s been a morning,” he tells me.
I wait for him to be comfortable sharing. Considering this is Kennedy, it doesn’t take him long.
“I got into a fight with my brothers, then Caroline showed up.”
I try really hard to stay casual, but I mustn’t pull it off because he pinches my chin gently.
“I told her we’re dating.”
“You … what?”
“I hope that’s okay?”
It’s more than okay. I want everyone to know.
He chuckles. “I want everyone to know as well. I felt bad, but I’ve always been honest with her. I guess some people only hear what they want to hear—I have experience with that.”
“She’s gone for good?”
“Maybe. I’d like to be friends, but I know that’s asking a lot. Would that be okay with you?”
“Would there be flirting?” I hate how small I sound.
“No, never. If I saw someone flirting with you, it’d eat me up inside. I’m not about to make you feel like that.”
“I felt like that when I saw her here.”
“You did?”
I could easily lie and say it was nothing, but I don’t get to pick and choose honesty. “Yeah. And I left, thinking I was spiraling again.”
“Were you?”
Knowing that what I’m about to say will sound stupid makes it really hard to get the words out. “A bit.”
“Ziggy—”
I wave my hand to cut him off. “It’s not your fault. And I got myself out of it.”
“Of course you did.” His smile spreads, warm and happy. “You can do anything.”
That’s a reach. Anything except speak up for myself, and be social, and confront my parents over everything they put me through.
“Stop doubting,” he tells me. “Whatever happened to you wasn’t your fault.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
I’m frozen under his gaze, but I fight my instinct to retreat and wriggle out of my shoes instead. Then I crawl over next to him and rest my head on his broad chest.
“I don’t think my parents wanted to be bad people,” I whisper. “They worked really hard, but I don’t think they ever planned to have a kid come into their lives and ruin it all for them.” It’s easier to talk with my face buried into the cotton of his T-shirt.
“It was still a choice they made.”
“Maybe. I was on my own a lot. Mostly left up to my own devices. When they weren’t working, they were sleeping. When they weren’t sleeping, they were yelling. At each other, but mostly me.”
Kennedy’s arms tighten around me. “That’s fucked-up. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I thought I did for a long time. If I wasn’t silent at home, I was punished. If I was silent at school, I was bullied.”
“I wish I’d known you then,” he murmurs. “I would have beat up every one of them.”
He wouldn’t have, and I like that about him. Kennedy is a good person who wants good things for people. Including me. “I’m getting there,” I whisper. “I might have needed a savior then, but I don’t now.”
His chuckle is warm under my ear. “That’s lucky. Because I think you’re the one saving me.”
Him?
I push up onto my elbow to see his face. Expressions give away more than people want them to, and when I look at Kennedy, all I can see is defeat.
“From giving up on people.” He manages a bitter laugh. “Because I have to say, some days, I am really, really close.”
I’ve never seen this side of Kennedy before.
“Your parents, Ziggy? How is that fair? You were a kid. And then my parents, and my brothers, and the kids you went to school with … some days, I worry that we’re all put on Earth to make things worse for each other.
” Kennedy reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear.
“You remind me how things are supposed to be.”
With a sigh, I sit up and cross my legs, then lift my hands, splay out my fingers, and move both hands away from each other in a half circle.
He’s frowning, but he sits up, too, and copies the movement. “What is that?”
I do it again and point at him.
“Me?” He looks excited as he repeats the motion. “What does it mean?”
“Sunshine. You’ve always been my sunshine. So you can’t give up. Because I need you too.”