Chapter 24 #3
“But if you want my opinion—”
“I do.”
“Let yourself be angry about it, but don’t let it eat you alive.
Go home tonight and be angry. Be as furious as you need to be and let yourself feel it.
Spiral, rage out, punch a fucking wall or two, do whatever you need to do to get it out of your system.
You’re absolutely entitled to that. But once you’ve felt it all, let it go.
Both of you were kids, but you lived two entirely different lives with very different traumas, and neither is more or less valid than the other. ”
My gaze lifts to Junie, and it’s a fucking punch to the chest seeing how utterly innocent and pure she is. It’s inconceivable picturing Reverie that tiny and experiencing everything she did.
“Two people can hurt at the same time, Kellan,” she says quietly. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other, and it doesn’t have to be who hurts worse.”
I blow out a heavy breath before shutting my eyes and thumping my head back against the couch.
This isn’t the first time Olive’s had to talk me down from the edge of insanity. Funny how at the crux of it is always the same fucking blonde who torments me worse than her father ever did, except in a completely different way.
A few minutes pass in silence while I consider Olive’s words.
Part of me wants to pile this resentment on top of the rest and use it to build a fortress around myself, where I can live in its gilded cage forever. But if I’m being honest, I’m so fucking tired of being angry. I’ve been angry for so long, I’ve forgotten how to feel anything else.
Or, at least, I used to forget. Slowly, over the past several weeks, that’s been changing, and even though I’m still battling with the guilt of it, it’s a breath of fresh air, too.
Although it goes against everything I've done since freshman year, Olive’s right. I need to release this burning wrath boiling in the pit of my stomach, and then I need to let it the fuck go.
“So, uh, are you guys dating now?” Olive asks, bringing my focus back to her.
I keep my eyes closed as I mumble, “Define dating.”
I can feel how unimpressed she is, especially because she knows I posted a picture of us online, and I imagine she's staring at me with that same dry expression she always does.
“You’re having S-E-X.”
I can’t help but grin. Having children around undeniably makes these conversations so much more entertaining.
“I believe we established that already.”
She rolls her eyes—I can feel that, too.
“Do you have feelings for each other?”
My smile drops. “Define feelings.”
“Kellan James,” she snaps, impatience tightening her voice into a sharp edge.
I snort. Her mom voice does not work on me, even if she feels like one some days, despite being only three years older.
“I don’t know how to answer that, Olive Piper. There are feelings. I don’t know if they’re all entirely positive.” I let the silence hang for a few beats, resisting saying the words aloud. “I can’t say they’re all negative, either.”
“You’re such a man,” she groans. “So, you’re falling in love with her but you really don’t want to. Got it.”
She might as well have karate chopped the strings holding up my heart, sending it plummeting, only to roundhouse kick me in the stomach. In conclusion, my heart is not where it’s supposed to be, and I’m breathless.
All the other emotions running through me muddle until they’re as clear as brown paint. I can’t discern any of the individual feelings anymore—just that there’s a fucking lot of them.
Attempting to appear unaffected, I peek one eye open. “I never said that.”
She arches a brow and tips her chin down, giving me a look like I should know better.
“You didn’t have to.”
I don’t like that response one fucking bit.
I close my eye. “I think you’re reaching.”
“I think you’re in denial.”
“I think it would be a slap in the face to my mom.”
I didn’t even mean to say that—it flew out of my mouth before I even realized I thought it.
Olive is quiet for a beat. “I think, considering Reverie’s circumstances and what she endured, that’s not true at all.”
I clench my jaw, almost hating how fucking happy it makes me to hear her say that. Even if I don’t know I agree.
“She’s still his daughter.’
“She didn’t choose that for herself, and you know it. You said she wants nothing to do with him, and she’s just as much in danger of him as you are. You think she wants to be his daughter?”
I creak open my eyes to find Olive staring at me with a stern look.
Frowning, I say, “No.”
“And do you think Katherine would’ve punished Reverie for that? Do you think your mom would hold her responsible for Lionel’s crimes?”
My chest aches as I repeat, “No.”
“Then why the hell would it be a slap in the face? She would want you to be happy. And if Reverie can make you happy, then I think she’d make your mom happy, too.”
Insects crawl beneath my skin, and if she keeps talking, I might need to take a vacation from my skinsuit.
I groan and close my eyes again, extremely uncomfortable with this conversation, though more so with the idea of Reverie being someone capable of bringing me happiness. It’s such a foreign concept to consider, it’s jarring and deeply uncomfortable.
Kissing and fucking her was difficult enough, so it’s nearly unimaginable to accept how I could build a future with her—or fall in love with her.
A month ago, I would’ve cried from laughing so hard if anyone suggested for even a millisecond that’d ever happen.
Yet, here I sit, thinking it could fucking happen, except it’s not so funny now.
The couch subtly shifts next to me, as if someone is sitting beside me very carefully. I have a feeling the heavy, fast breathing next to my ear suggests someone is doing exactly that.
Saved by the bell.
A smile cracks across my lips, and I open my eyes, only to jolt when I see Junie kneeling beside me, only two inches from my face.
“Jesus,” I mutter, not expecting her to be that goddamn close. “Ever heard of personal space, kid?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head and giggling. “I dunno what that is. Is that somethin’ you did when you was havin’ S-E-X?”
My mouth pops open, completely stunned.
Olive cackles loudly, but the second she catches sight of my face, she loses it completely, bending over at the waist and laughing so hard, she goes silent and her face turns cherry red.
Meanwhile, I’m floundering and trying to think of a proper response for a goddamn three-year-old.
Nothing comes to mind, so I settle on a dry, “No.”
That only makes Olive laugh harder, and Junie joins in, clueless and only doing it because her mom is.
I let out a heavy sigh and shake my head, though my lips curl upward. The kid has no fucking idea what she even asked, but I will have precisely zero percent involvement in that conversation should she probe further.
When Olive recovers, I flick her a narrow-eyed look that says the words I can’t speak—fuck off.
She continues to chuckle while wiping tears from beneath her eyes. “Oh, my God. I need to check the cameras to see if they caught the look on your face. I’m selling that shit for big money.”
I give her a deadpan glare while Junie crawls onto my lap and settles back against my chest, her focus back on Bluey already. Easily entertained but the attention span of a squirrel.
“That was extremely traumatizing,” I tell her, earning a loud guffaw.
“Just wait. It only gets worse from here, dude. Especially when she actually learns how to spell.”
I gather Junie against me, pressing my cheek into hers, and squeeze tight until she squeals and giggles.
“Nah, she’s staying this little forever. Right, Junie-pop?”
“Nooo,” she draws out, still laughing. “I’m gonna be bigger and stronger than you.”
“Nuh-uh,” I tease in a childlike tone.
“Yes-huh!” she shouts, once again nearly bursting my eardrums. She whips her head around, scarcely missing my nose as she looks up at me with sparkling blue eyes. She boops my nose with her tiny pointer finger. “Don’worry, Kelly-pop. I protect you.”
I grin, though it makes my throat tighten.
My voice is considerably raspier when I say, “I couldn’t ask for anyone better to protect me than you, Junie-pop.”
But there's a distinct voice in the back of my head, pitying Reverie for having no one to protect her later tonight.
Because I'm going to take Olive’s advice.
The only way to truly get over this persistent anger at Reverie is to let myself feel it.
She said to do whatever I needed to do and then let it go.
And I know exactly how I want Reverie to pay—just one last time.