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His fingertips brush my neck. My shoulders.
I can’t see his face. I have no idea how he’s taking this. But I can’t wait to know.
I need to get this out. All of it.
“Then I started having these thoughts. I’d be driving Mom’s car up the 405 and I’d think about crashing into the divider. Or I’d see sleeping pills in the cabinet and think about downing the bottle. Or look at some tall building, and try to figure out if I could actually get to the roof. I didn’t make plans to kill myself. But the thought of it—of not hurting anymore—it was tempting. And I… I felt like everyone would be better off if I wasn’t dragging them down. Then I’d think about how sad my parents would be and I’d feel guilty and that would only make it worse.”
He pulls me closer.
“I understand now. It’s my messed-up brain chemistry. I take medication. I see a therapist. She helped me understand a lot of it. And the medications stops most of the thoughts. But not always. Sometimes they flood my head, and I can’t stop thinking I’ll never be good enough. Sometimes, things get heavy again. It’s short phases now. But it might be longer one day. Medications stop working. Life gets stressful. And I… one day, those voices might be loud enough to convince me to do it.”
I’m still shaking.
I want, so badly, to turn around and look in his eyes. To figure out what he’s thinking. But I can’t. If it’s bad, I’ll lose my nerve. Then I’ll never get this out.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I need you to know. It’s not a phase. It’s forever. I’m always going to be broken—”
“You’re not broken.”
“You can use another word, but it will mean the same thing. My brain is fucked up. It will always be fucked up. I’m always going to be fighting the voice that tells me I’m worthless. That everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around. Can you really love someone like that? Someone who might fall and end everything?”
“Are you thinking about it now?”
“No. It’s been awhile since I’ve really considered it. But I still have fleeting thoughts. And I always will. I just… I want you to know the reality. I see how you look at me. Like I’m heaven sent. But I’m not.”
Slowly, he turns me around. His hand goes to my chin. He tilts my head so we’re face-to-face.
I keep my gaze on his chest for as long as I can stand it.
My eyes meet his.
He’s… I don’t know. I just don’t.
He cups the back of my head with his hand. “Thank you.”
What?
I…
Huh?
“It’s an honor, you sharing that with me.”
What? I blink a few times. Everything gets blurry.
I’m crying.
“You… you don’t want to leave?” A tear rolls down my cheek and falls off my jaw. It lands on my shoulder.
“Never.”
“But I… You… You hate complicated.”
“No. I just never met someone worth complicated.” He stares back into my eyes. “Are you taking care of yourself? Taking your meds? Seeing your therapist?”
“Yeah.”
“And everything else?”
I nod. “Aren’t… aren’t you scared?”
“I’m always scared of bad shit happening to you. But this, no—I’m not scared that you have depression. Or that you’ve been suicidal.”
“But one day… I might… what if I…”
“You think about it that much?”
“I did. It was scary. I didn’t trust myself. I guess I still don’t.”
He stares back into my eyes. “Nobody can promise they’ll be okay forever. I don’t care that you need a little chemical help, Kay. You’re still the sun in my sky. You’re gonna struggle, yeah, but I want to be there for that. I want to be the person holding you up when shit is bad.”
“I… you… you’re not leaving?”
“No.”
I stare back at him, blinking away tears until my vision is blurry.
He plants his palm on my check and wipes my eyes. “Are these happy or sad?”
“Both. And everything else. I… I just can’t. I thought… I thought you’d leave.”
He shakes his head. “There isn’t a single part of me that wonders if you’re good enough for me.”
“Really?”
“Not even a molecule.”
The weight lifts off my chest.
My hands stop shaking.
I…
He…
Maybe things will be okay.
He leans in to press his lips to mine.
It’s an I love you.
We haven’t said the words.
But I can feel it.
He knows.
And he’s staying.
And he loves me anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brendon
Kaylee steps onto the stairs with the world’s most content smile. She’s already in some adorable sundress. One with a blue floral print and thin straps.
Her eyes brighten as they meet mine.
I have to force myself to direct my attention back to my sister.
This is giving too much away.
And I’m not doing enough to check in with Em. The school year isn’t as big a deal for her—she started college officially back in June with summer courses, and she’s only going part-time—but it’s still a transition.
