Chapter 57
ALEX
Rachel had been right about the feelings you get when you kiss someone you actually like.
I had all of them. Every single one. They hit me fast and warm and terrifying, like someone had opened a window in a room I didn’t realise I’d been suffocating in.
And I wanted to feel them forever.
Because they felt good - stupidly, impossibly good - and I hadn’t felt a whole lot of good lately. Not like this. Not the kind that settles in your chest and makes you think maybe you’re not as numb as you thought. Maybe you’re still capable of wanting things. Of being wanted back.
For the first time in a long time, something in me felt alive.
But the thought barely settled before something colder slid in behind it - a tight, familiar knot forming low in my stomach.
Connor.
The name alone was enough to make the warmth flicker.
Because as good as this felt - as good as he felt - I could already picture the look on my brother’s face if he ever found out. That sharp, mocking twist of his mouth. The way he’d look at me like I was a disgrace. The way he’d make it a joke, then make it personal, then make it hurt.
He’d ruin this. He’d ruin me . He always did.
And suddenly the park felt smaller, like the trees were leaning in, like the air had thickened around my ribs. I wasn’t ashamed of Kai - not even close - but the idea of Connor knowing, of him having that kind of ammunition, made my skin prickle.
He’d never let it go. He’d never let me go.
The warmth of Kai’s kiss was still on my lips, but now it mixed with something else - something nervous and shaky and real.
I wanted this. God , I wanted this.
But wanting it didn’t stop the fear from curling around the edges of the feeling, threatening to swallow it whole.
With shaky hands, I shifted on the bench, my fingers fumbling as I dug through my bag.
The familiar cardboard edges brushed my knuckles, and I pulled out my cigarettes like they were some kind of anchor, pressing one to my lips, and trying to steady my breathing long enough to light it.
The flame trembled with me, but the moment the smoke hit my lungs, everything inside me loosened just a fraction.
The noise in my head - Connor’s voice, the what-ifs, the fear - all of it dulled, softening at the edges.
It didn’t disappear, not really, but it drifted back far enough that I could breathe again.
For a moment, it felt like my problems were thinning out with the smoke, carried off into the cold air where they couldn’t claw at me.
I knew it wasn’t a solution. But right then, it was the only thing that made the world quiet.
“You alright?” Kai asked, looking over at me, worry lines creasing between his brows.
I nodded and took another pull, letting the smoke sit in my lungs a second longer than I needed to. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to answer him - I just didn’t trust my voice not to shake.
He watched me for a moment, like he was trying to read something in my face. “How long have you smoked?” he said, not accusing, just… curious. Soft.
I shrugged, flicking ash off the end of the cigarette. “Couple of years,” I muttered. “On and off.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
I didn’t remember when I started. Not really. It wasn’t some big moment or choice - more like something that just… happened to me.
Connor used to give me cigarettes when I was growing up.
He and his mates thought it was hilarious, watching a kid cough his lungs out or stumble around after getting high.
They’d laugh, shove another one into my hand, tell me to ‘man up’ or ‘stop being soft.’ And I was too young to know any better, too desperate to be whatever they wanted me to be.
So I smoked. And then I kept smoking. And somewhere along the line, it stopped being a joke and started being a habit. A crutch. A way to quiet everything he’d put in my head.
I guess I got addicted. Not just to the nicotine, but to the silence it gave me. The way it made everything feel far away for a minute. The way it made me feel like I had control over something, even if it was only my own breath.
I didn’t say any of that out loud. But it sat there in my chest, heavy and familiar, like a bruise that never really healed.
I could feel him still looking at me, like he was waiting for more, but I didn’t have more to give. Not without opening doors I wasn’t ready to open. So I kept my eyes on the smoke instead - the way it curled and twisted and disappeared into the night like it had somewhere better to be.
It was easier to watch that than to look at him and see the worry I didn’t know how to deserve.
“Do you ever think of quitting?” Kai asked gently.
I shrugged, taking another drag. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
It was the truth. I had bigger things to worry about than my lungs. The health warnings never scared me - not compared to the things that happened in my house. Not compared to Connor.
I figured if the cigarettes didn’t kill me, something else would.
The thought wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even emotional. It was just… factual. A quiet conclusion I’d come to years ago.
He let out a small breath. “You should. Not because I’m judging - just… because I want you around.”
I hesitated, my eyes catching his. It was strange hearing him say that. Having someone want me around. It didn’t fit right in my head yet - like a shirt that wasn’t mine, stiff at the shoulders, unfamiliar against my skin. It was going to take some getting used to.
I nodded. “I’ll think about it,” I said, bringing the cigarette back to my lips. The smoke filled my lungs, warm and heavy, and I blew it out into the cold air, watching it unravel into the night.
“Good,” Kai murmured, his eyes drifting upward. The sky was clear - impossibly clear - the stars scattered above us like someone had thrown a handful of diamonds across black velvet. They shimmered, bright and indifferent, as if they were putting on a show just for the two of us.
Kai let out a slow breath. “Makes you think there’s something bigger out there… don’t you think?” His words slurred slightly, his head tipped back against the bench.
“Don’t tell me the Kai Fields believes in aliens,” I teased, a small chuckle slipping out as I traced the constellations overhead.
“And you don’t?” he shot back, eyebrows lifting.
I shrugged, amusement tugging at my mouth.
“Come on,” he said, pointing up at the sky. “There has to be something else out there…” He turned toward me then, offering a slow, drunken smile that softened all the sharp edges of his face. His eyes were glassy, unfocused but warm.
“The sky is so big,” he murmured, “and the earth is so small. And us… well, we’re even smaller.” He rambled like he was only just now discovering the concept of existence, like the universe had cracked open for him in the last five minutes.
“Then why haven’t they come down already?” I asked, taking another drag of my cigarette.
“I don’t know.” Kai shrugged, head tipping back. “Maybe they’re waiting for the right time.” His gaze drifted across the skyline, slow and unfocused, like he was searching for something he couldn’t quite name.
“Maybe,” I murmured, exhaling smoke and watching the trail twist upward before dissolving into the dark.
When I looked back at him, he was already looking at me - eyes a little too open, a little too honest in the way only drunk people ever manage.
“You ever think that nothing ever really matters?” he asked quietly. “We try so hard to leave a mark on the world, but in the end… that’s all we are. A mark. A memory to be forgotten.”
“Jesus,” I breathed, a dry laugh slipping out. “That got really deep, really fast.” But the truth was, I felt it - right in the gut.
“Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t usually drink.” He blew out a breath - long, shaky, like he was trying to steady himself and failing.
“That’s probably a good thing,” I said with a small chuckle. “So how come you decided to do it today?”
I shifted a little closer without really thinking about it, our knees brushing for half a second before settling just shy of touching. The space between us felt warmer than it should have in the cool night air.
He inhaled deeply, eyes still fixed on the vast sky. “I just found out my mum is selling our house.” A muscle ticked in his jaw - a tiny movement, but sharp enough to cut through the haze of alcohol.
“Oh.” The word slipped out before I could stop it, and my stomach dropped a little as I flicked my cigarette to the ground, crushing it under my shoe. “Would you stay in Belrose?”
He nodded, shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. “I’m guessing so… but it’s not even that.” His voice softened, cracking at the edges. “My dad had that house built for us. He called it our forever home. And I guess I just always thought we’d have it.”
He looked down then, blinking hard, and the faint shine in his eyes made something twist in my chest.
“Is there nothing you can do?” I asked.
He shook his head again, slower this time. “We can’t afford to keep it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, reaching out and rubbing his back. His muscles tensed under my hand, then slowly eased, like he was letting himself lean into the touch.
“It’s fine. It’s silly, really.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I know it’s just a house, but somehow… losing it feels like losing Dad all over again.”
“That doesn’t sound silly to me,” I said, my voice low, steady. “But you know…” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “Houses don’t hold memories. People do.”
He swallowed, eyes flicking up to mine. “I just don’t want to forget him.”
“What was he like?” I asked, offering a small, genuine smile.
Kai’s expression softened, the grief shifting into something warmer.
“He was full of life. Funny. He could make a room full of people laugh even at a funeral.” He chuckled, but the sound was tinged with sadness.
“He was just that type of guy. Everybody wanted to know him. And I wanted to be him… I still do.”