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She shakes her head, looking up at me with tears in her big brown eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
I look down at her, bringing a hand in to caress her face. “I’m so sorry for all the pain you’re feeling, but you’ll get through this, Kennedy. I promise. Your well-being is all that matters right now, okay? Nothing else. I’m sorry if I made things worse. I didn’t mean to, I just…”
I was hurting, too, but it doesn’t matter right now. Her pain is worse, and hers has to take priority.
She takes a shuddering breath and burrows deeper into my chest, her arms wrapping around me tighter.
I hold her for as long as she needs me to, the words dying when we’ve said all we can right now.
I think she knows there are things not being said, but given her fragile emotional state, there’s no way in hell I’m saying any of it. Jonathan was right. She can’t handle that right now.
The thought of Jonathan when I’m holding her draws tension to my upper back despite knowing it can’t matter right now. I’m in uncharted territories, and I don’t know how to navigate them.
“Can I ask you a question without upsetting you?”
She sniffles and looks up. “Probably not,” she says with a watery smile. “But go ahead.”
“It’s about Jonathan.”
The light goes out of her eyes, and she looks down.
Shame.
I pull her in and hug her, gently petting her hair because the last thing I want to do is make her feel worse. “I’m not angry at you. I just want an honest answer.”
“Okay,” she says cautiously.
“Why was he able to give you what you needed, and I wasn’t?”
She’s quiet for a long time, so long that I think she might not answer me, but finally she does. “You told me what I needed and gave it to me whether or not I wanted you to. He asked, and then gave me what I needed, no questions asked. He trusted me more than you did.”
That fucking stings to hear.
I’m also not sure it’s entirely fair. Jonathan doesn’tknowKennedy the way I do. If he knew she had self-destructive tendencies that he needed to look out for…
Actually, he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. He and I aren’t built the same way.
I guess it doesn’t matter, but I don’t think I was entirely wrong. If Kennedy had spent last night in my bed instead of his, her grief wouldn’t be compounded the way it is now. If she still needed the same thing from me when her mental state wasn’t so fragile, I could have given it to her, but I wouldn’t have done the damage he has done.
I know Jonathan doesn’t see it, and she clearly doesn’t either, but if she had let me take care of her, I think there might be just a little less pain for her to carry today. A lot less regret.
There’s no advantage in saying any of that. Even if she saw it the way I do, her regret doesn’t need to be any heavier. She feels bad enough.
We need to focus on getting her past it. Jonathan was right about that.
“Do you have feelings for him?” I ask, despising the question, but I need to know.
“No,” she whispers, shaking her head and looking up at me pleadingly. “It wasn’t about that. I just…” She shifts her gaze to my chest and I can see her wheels turning. When she finally speaks, it’s so carefully, I think she must be navigating minefields in her own brain. “It had to be last night. You wouldn’t do it. I know you, you’re too stubborn. I knew even before I came out of the bathroom you wouldn’t fuck me, but I thought maybe I could change your mind, tempt you to it, but it’s not like I was even on my A-game trying to tempt you. I was clumsy and desperate. But it had to be last night. When I looked back on the night I lost—lost it, I had to… it had to be someone I chose, even if it was the wrong person.”
My heart cracks in half. I grab her and pull her in, Jonathan’s theories echoing in my head.
He’s right.
He didn’t get there in time.
I feel a stinging behind my eyes, but ignore it until it dissipates. “I’m so fucking sorry, Kennedy,” I murmur thickly. “I wish I could have… I should have just done what you asked me to do.”
“I wanted it to be you,” she says, her voice wobbly with a new round of tears.
