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I’m not okay.
Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Nightmares that wake everyone up and terrify them? Will I always have to look over my shoulder now? Will I always be scared of men that aren’t mine?
The little bravado I’ve found in the last few days is fake. It was all fake before, but now that I know I’m weak, that I can’t save myself, that I can’t save anyone, it all feels like a sham. I don’t know who I am anymore.
If I’m not the bitch, the strong, single mother, the unapologetic woman who takes no one’s shit, who am I? Under all the layers of bullshit, who the fuck am I?
“Ian, go to your room,” Ezra says, his voice soft. Ian makes a sound of protest, his hand tightening on my shoulder. “I’ll come get you if I need help. But please,” he emphasizes the word in a way that tells me it’s not a request, “go to your room.” I feel the hesitation as the seconds pass.
Glancing at the door, I find Enzo hovering in the doorway, looking scared. I smile weakly at him, but he doesn’t relax. I nudge Ian with my elbow, and subtly point at Enzo with my chin. Ian follows my gaze, and takes a deep breath.
“Go to your room,” I murmur, wanting him to comfort his friend. I scared everyone tonight even though I hadn’t meant to.
Finally, Ian kisses my head and rises. It’s the first time he’s ever done that and it makes more tears burn my eyes. Ezra stays silent until the door quietly clicks shut, then he grabs me and pulls me to his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps me up, clutching me to his chest.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs as he strokes my back.
“Nightmare,” I say, as if that wasn’t already obvious.
“Kennedy.” It’s a reprimand, and for some stupid reason, I feel the disapproval to my core.
“I tried to get to you,” I rasp. “In the dream. You were there, but you couldn’t get to me. And every time I tried to crawl to you, he would hit me again. You couldn’t save me, and I was too weak to save myself.”
“I did get to you, though,” he says softly. “That was just a dream, love. I saved you. You protected yourself—” I huff out a breath and his body stiffens. “You protected yourself.” He says it again, more firmly, and I shake my head.
“I froze,” I say. “I was scared, and I froze—”
“Do you think I wasn’t scared shitless?” I pull my head away from his chest and peer into his grave face. “Every time I go up against someone, I’m scared. I was scared the first time I got into a fight, and the night you called me—I’ve never been so fucking terrified, Kennedy. We all get scared. That’s okay.”
“But you still fought,” I say. “I didn’t.”
“You think you didn’t fight?” he says, dropping his voice. “If you didn’t fight, you’d be dead right now.” I shake my head. “You’re the strongest person I know, Kens. I’m not just saying that because I love you, I’m saying it because it’s true.”
I fold my lips between my teeth, my eyes searching his face for any hint of a lie. But I don’t find anything but brutal sincerity.
“Just because you didn’t kill him, doesn’t mean you’re weak,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Just because you called for help doesn’t mean you’re weak. You used the best weapon in your arsenal—me. I wasn’t fighting for myself that night. I was fighting for you.”
“I could’ve shot him,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“Have you ever killed someone before, Kens?” I push my brows together, and shake my head. “I never want you to know what it’s like. For me, I know I’m going somewhere worse than Hell. You let me do the killing and protecting—you stick to keeping yourself alive until I can get to you. That doesn’t make you weak—” He interrupts me before I can say anything. “Say it. Say you’re not weak for needing me.” I swallow thickly as fresh tears fill my eyes.
“I’m not weak for needing you,” I whisper. He gives a hard nod.
“Say you fought back,” he demands. “Tell me you’re strong.”
“I fought back.” The words break, but I force myself to push the rest out. “I’m strong.”
“Damn fucking right you are,” he growls. “Say it again. Say you’re strong.” I wipe my cheek as a tear falls.
“I’m strong,” I say again, my voice thick.
“I’m going to make you say that for the rest of your fucking life,” he promises. “I’ll never let you forget who you are, understand me? I will never let you fall into self-pity. It’s not you. You’re strong, and unapologetic, and—and perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”
I let out a long breath, feeling some of the weight lift from my shoulders.
“I’ll get back to myself,” I whisper, and he cups my face with his hand, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“You didn’t go anywhere,” he murmurs. “You just forgot. I’ll remind you.” I smile weakly, and he brushes his lips over mine, then lets out a harsh breath through his nose. “We need to talk about that fucking boy.” My eyes widen.
