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Kate’s spent her entire life outwitting things, and she’s still trying to outwit this too, to somehow find the loophole that will bring her daughter back.
I bury my face in her hair. “You’re just opening doors that lead nowhere. There isn’t a single possibility—true or otherwise—that can bring her back.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But when is it going to stop being this hard, Beck?”
Her voice—so young, so raw—is a punch to the throat. Nothing in my life, not even the loss of my mom, prepared me for this kind of grief, for its depth and its length. She’s always been alone in the world and a little lost—even with Caleb, she was alone and lost—and for the first fucking time, she thought she wasn’t. Ofcourseshe can’t stop wanting it back.
I pull her closer. “I don’t know, but it will, eventually. I promise.”
She nods, her hands gripping my shirt as if she’d fall straight to the floor if she didn’t hold on and then her head rises slowly. “I should let you get back to the bar.”
My arms tighten, pulling her right back where she was. “I already told Mueller I was taking off.” It’s a lie, but I’ll text him once we’re home. “Let’s go watch some dumb TV and order pizza.”
Her body relaxes once more. She takes one shaky breath, then another. “I don’t understand why it’s so easy to discuss this with you. I can tell you things I can’t say to anyone else.”
She’s not ready to hear the answer to that and I doubt she ever will be.
Kate and I are the same on the inside—nothing but jagged pieces held together by raw hope. I felt it in my bones the moment I laid eyes on her, and of all the things I wish Ihadn’tfelt for Kate Bennett, that’s probably the hardest to disregard. Because how many times in your life will you ever meet someone who was made for you?
And how do you possibly walk away if you find her?
* * *
We orderpizza and put on a movie. She doesn’t want to discuss the interview, and goes to bed no better than she was when I found her at the storage unit, looking small and alone. I tell myself she just needs a good night’s sleep, but as I walk to my room, I hear a noise that wraps around my heart like a fist. She’s crying again.
After a second of hesitation, I cross the hall and knock on her door.
“I’m fine,” she calls, but her voice wobbles, so I walk in anyway. She’s curled up in fetal position with that fucking sonogram picture in her hand.
“Kate—” I start to plead before I catch myself. I’m no better than Caleb—I want her to stop crying because it’s hard onme, which is bullshit. “Is there anything I can do?”
She shakes her head. “No. But thank you.”
I return to my room but leave the door open. And not a minute after I’ve climbed into bed and shut off the light, the hardwood floor is creaking beneath her feet as she crosses the hall to my room.
She stands in the frame of the door wearing only a T-shirt, lit by moonlight.
“Beck.” Her swallow is audible. “Can I stay in here?”
I still. Jesus. The last fucking thing I need in the world right now is Kate Bennett sleeping in my bed.
“I’m sorry,” she says, turning. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Just don’t hog the covers.”
She walks to the other side of the bed, barely meeting my eye. It’s hard for her, admitting weakness. “I won’t.”
I pull the blanket over her after she slides in. “Your promises aren’t worth shit.”
She laughs. The sound is more tremulous than joyful. “Yeah. True.”
She’s grieving and in need of comfort. I know this. My body, however, only knows that Kate Bennett is in my bed, wearing a T-shirt and not much else.
It’s going to be a very long night.
23
KATE
