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Then two arms slithered around my body, and I was eased backwards into a smooth, hard body. Laying my head back, I let myself be held by Kettle, letting my dreams flair to life, and then I viciously smothered them right before I turned in Kettle’s arms, reared my fist back and let it fly.
I hit him in the eye.
The bastard didn’t even flinch. Not even a single inch of movement.
“I hate you,” I said before the tears started flowing.
Kettle’s eyes closed as if in pain, finally, but not from my fist.
He opened his eyes and watched the tears flow from my cheeks, trying in vain to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs.
“Please,” he said hoarsely. “Please stop.”
I shook my head quickly. “I can’t. You really hurt me.”
Then I disconnected from his strong arms and exited the shower. Grabbing the only towel off the rack, I briskly dried off before tossing it at him where he stood, dripping on the mat.
He caught it with a forlorn expression and watched from the bathroom as I roughly started shoving my legs into a pair of sleep pants and shrugging on one of Kettle’s sweatshirts.
Then I thought better of it, took the sweatshirt off, and threw it to the floor before going to the bag of new clothes I’d bought and pulled a tank top on instead.
His eyes, watching the whole show, took in the act but didn’t say anything until I was fully clothed. Then he went about pulling a pair of jeans up over his naked, wet legs. Then proceeded to zip, but not button them, totally ignoring the underwear, t-shirt, socks, and shoes.
I sat on the bed, and wrapped myself up in the comforter on the bed like armor.
“Tell me everything.” I said softly.
His head hung.
“My baby was four weeks old when Rosalie’s boyfriend, at the time, found out the baby wasn’t his. The man fucking flipped, threw my baby across the room like a goddamn rag doll. S-she didn’t make it, but the guy continued to mutilate her little body. Then he beat the shit out of Rosalie. At first, they’d tried to pass it off like the baby never happened. It would’ve worked, too, if Rosalie hadn’t tried to act like the kid didn’t even exist to me. I called my mother, because I didn’t know anybody else to call. She went over to the house and didn’t see any sign of her grandkid. She was able to get to the police before my dad caught on, and they launched an investigation.” He said woodenly.
I shook my head. The things coming out of Kettle’s mouth seemed so surreal, as if it was a movie or something. Things like that only happened if they were made up for a movie line. That didn’t happen in real life!
“So what happened?” I asked sadly.
Kettle shrugged. “My dad had to act like the grieving grandfather. On my mother’s part, I feel like it was actually genuine. The detectives launched an investigation. Rosalie’s boyfriend buried our baby in the backyard and then started a compost pile on top of it, just in case.”
My heart hurt for him. I knew he could really use a hug right now, but we weren’t finished. We had a few more things to discuss before I even contemplated the possibility of being together again.
“Why isn’t this something you were willing to discuss with me?” I asked as I plucked an invisible piece of lint off the comforter.
His sigh was audible as he took a seat beside me. Not touching, but close enough I could reach out any touch him if I wanted.
“I thought it was the talk of the town, honestly. I thought you knew already. It happened right in the middle of Benton and everybody and their brother still looks at me as if I might break if they’re not careful about what they say in front of me. It’s not an enjoyable thing to talk about, and it makes me so goddamn mad that I can’t see straight. Always has and always will. I’m only talking about it now because you need to hear it.” He explained roughly.
I nodded. I could see that.
“Did you read the letter?” I looked at him.
He shook my head quickly. “I’m not going to, either. I don’t want to ever speak to her again.”
“Would you like me to tell you what she said?”
He thought about it for a couple seconds before shrugging. “I can’t promise that I’ll like what you have to tell me, but I’m willing to listen to you until I can’t handle it anymore.”
“There wasn’t really much to it. She got out of prison last month. She’s sorry for what she put you through. And she was diagnosed with terminal cancer a few months ago. Really, that was about it. She just wanted to apologize for what happened to your daughter.”
“So she didn’t say anything about what happened before that?”
