He laughs and brings my face up to meet his before planting soft kisses on my lips. The tenderness he kisses me with feels too soft after the filthy way he just undid me, each lingering brush of his mouth making my heart break a little more.
The feel of his lips again after so long fills my soul in a way I can’t even describe. The giant hole that has been my heart for months finally starts filling under his exploration. He comes back every time he breaks away, for just one more kiss. Heat returns to my belly, my body begging me to deepen it when he pulls back.
“No, pretty girl. I’m good. That was for you,” he explains, his hand still holding my face as he looks at me, eyes bright and shining, the slight twinkle returning to them. He pulls me in for one more kiss, almost as if he can’t help himself. A look passes over his face that I can’t quite read. Could it be adoration?
“But I—” I grin, then look down and notice a slightly darker spot on his black pants. “Oh.”
My cheeks flush red as I look back up at him. He came in his pants from just going down on me, which makes me giggle a little. Kane follows, the sound lightening the situation.
“This feels like high school all over again,” Kane groans as his hands drop from my face and he stands. He straightens his shirt and pulls me up after him. He brings my dress down and smooths it out for me, then flattens my hair—which I’m sure will be impossible to brush through later—before reaching down to grab his tie from the bed. I peek around for my underwear but come up empty in my search. I rustle through the blankets on the bed, trying to ignore the giant elephant in the room.
“Avery?” Kane asks from where he’s standing in front of me as I pretend to look for my missing thong in the now-messed-up bedcovers.
“Hmm,” I reply, my search still fruitless, before I finally take a breath and steel myself as I turn to him.
“Thank you,” he expresses softly, his hands in his pockets. A boyish quality takes over his features, showing a shyness I’ve so rarely seen in him.
“For what? Uh…” I gesture toward his pants, causing a laugh to burst out of him. He drops his head back and laughs with his whole body, infecting me until I join him.
“No, thank you for coming,” he flirts, a smirk onhis face. “Okay, get your mind out of the gutter. I mean tonight. I know things have been different, but I really appreciate you coming with me anyway. For being there with me,” he finishes. He runs his hands through his hair, one of his telltale signs that he’s nervous.
“You’re welcome,” I start softly as I walk closer to him and bring my face up to meet his. I stare into his warm brown eyes, the gold flecks shining back at me with so much love that I have to clear my throat to dislodge it. “You are enough, Kane. I want you to know there has never been a time since I met you that I haven’t noticed what a treasure you are. You’re worth more than your weight in gold to me and to the people who care about you. Your heart is so big. Don’t let them close that part of you off. Don’t let them take it away from you, because your heart is my favorite thing about you. Your parents not seeing you says more about them than it does about you. They have all this money, all these things, and they’re missing the most priceless thing of all: your love. I feel sorry for them,” I whisper to him, his eyes slowly turning watery as I speak.
I trail my finger along a stray tear that leaks out, catching it before it can fall. “You werealwaysenough for me,” I finish softly, my heart heavy as I straighten and prepare to leave, wanting to run from this situation on a high note.
I give him one more look, waiting until he can see the truth in my soul, before I turn and walk away. I open the door and find my way down the stairs. The party is still in full swing outside, so I stay along the darker hallways and grab my bag from the guest closet as someone lets me out the front door. The air has turned cold, the wind whipping with the storm the forecasters broadcast earlier.
I let a tear of my own fall, finally. Not for myself, butfor him. I let them fall for the Kane who has had to fight tooth and nail against the belief that he needs to be anything other than himself to be enough. I wish more than anything I could change the way he sees himself, that I could let him see himself through my eyes. That he could see the beautiful boy I met who turned into the devastating man he is now. Every part of him is so wonderfully made, so beautifully crafted to love every part of me. How could I not do the same?
I can’t be what fixes him, I realize. Nor can I force him to confront all these parts of himself that make him feel unlovable. That’s something he needs to do on his own now, and I wish like hell I could be the one by his side when he discovers just how wonderful he is.
I roll my car down the drive and let myself mourn for that lost boy. I let myself mourn what we had and what we could’ve been. I don’t believe this is the end of our story, but how can I ask him to heal if I’m still holding on to past hurts?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
kane
Trauma – NF
Isit here in my room until the music has long since faded away. I hear the doors closing outside and the engines starting, yet I sit here until there’s nothing but silence to greet me.
The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the dark room, the only light as I wallow within the darkness. It could have been hours or days that I’ve been sitting here with my back pressed against the wall, my arms thrown over my knees, reeling from tonight.
The images of tonight flash across my mind. Avery sitting on the bed, telling me I am enough, the way those words gripped my throat and made it hard to speak. Hearing those words fall from her lips left me unable to contain everything I feel for her. I had to watch her leave again. Avery in her black dress. The way her curves looked. The way her eyes lit up when she told me how much I mattered, that fierceness blazing back at me. That fire she doesn’t let burn enough.
The way she looked walking away from me, hips swaying and my heart in her pocket. The room seemed to get dimmer when she left. All color seemed be to sucked out, painting it in shades of gray until they faded to black when the sun officially set and the storms rolled in. My mind wanders to her cries as she came for me, then drifts to the anger that hits when I realize my parents haven’t even bothered to call. They haven’t even noticed or cared about my absence, apparently. All the emotions from tonight leave me drained.
My mind lingers downstairs, and I hold on to that anger, refusing to push it down again. I let myself feel something for the first time with them, the mask firmly slipping away and leaving me raw. The pain is unable to hide anymore, not with the way my heart is battered and bruised after years of abuse.
My therapist said it doesn’t benefit me to shove it down and pretend it doesn’t exist because the body remembers. It reminds me in the panic attacks that hit me in my lonely hours, in the way I refuse to be vulnerable and open up to the people who matter most, convincing myself that once they see me, they’ll hate it. All this stored-up trauma will come out in one way or another, whether I acknowledge it happened or not. Since exploring and talking about these experiences throughout my youth, I have noticed it is easier to manage my anxiety. Combined with medication, I can’t remember the last time my brain felt so free from the fog that has plagued me most of my life.
My skin itches as too many emotions hit me. Once I get up from the floor, I go over to my old dresser and open the drawer to take out some old sweats and an old high school football T-shirt that I left here. I change out of these clothesand throw them away in the empty wastebasket next to it, not caring what happens to this suit.
Once I throw the shirt over my head, I grab my stuff, shove it into my pockets, and finally let myself out of this self-imposed prison cell. I stop to stare at the pictures that line the mirror, a picture of me and Avery from senior prom, the next one of her laughing in the bed of my truck, the time we had a food fight with Marcus and Morgan, and lastly, the one I didn’t know was taken at the time. Her standing in front of me with my arms wrapped around her as she’s looking up at me, laughing at something while my eyes are caught on her, the small smile on my face as I gaze at the center of my universe. I grab the photo and tuck it into my pants. I grasp the door handle and let myself out of the room as quietly as I can.
I hear soft voices that come from the living room and pray that I can sneak out without them acknowledging me—not that they have ever seen me before.
When I hit the landing, I hear, “Kane?” from my mother’s soft voice. I let out a breath and debate going that way. “Are you still here? Your truck is outside.”
