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“You’ll need to go to the office and have your records updated to reflect this address. We don’t want anything being sent to your mother’s place.”
I shake my head wordlessly. Anything that gets mailed there for me may as well disappear into a black hole because I’ll never go back for it.
After a moment I don’t realize is heavily silent until he speaks, Milo asks, “Have you given any thought to reporting what happened, Kennedy?”
My insides shrivel at the thought. Avoiding his gaze, I walk over to the sink so I can wash my hands since I touched my hair. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I understand that, sweetheart, but I hate to think of them getting away with this.”
“And I hate to think of them at all, which is completely unavoidable if I go to the police. I didn’t go to the hospital that night, so I don’t even have evidence. It’s literally my word against theirs, and then my mom’s going to tell them I’ve gone after her boyfriends before,” I state, indicating him. “And they’ll take one look at me literally living with one of her exes and sleeping in his bed, and it will look like she’s telling the truth. I’m the troubled teenager lashing out at my mother, making ‘false’ accusations to get attention. I don’t want any part of that, Milo. No fucking thank you.”
“She’s right,” Jet says, surprising me. I didn’t even think he was still paying attention to this conversation, but I certainly didn’t expect him to join in. “The evidence isn’t on her side. If she reports it, she’ll have to go through more than he will.”
“So, the fucker should just get away with it?” Jonathan says, disbelief clear in his tone. “That’s your stance?”
“No.” Jet glances at me, then to his dad and brother. “But this is already a terrible experience for Kennedy. If she’ll suffer more than he will, is that really the best solution?”
“No,” Jonathan snaps, “but it’s superior to the one where I go back to the apartment and finish what I started, and then I have to go to prison.”
“I saved her clothes from that night and took pictures,” Milo states. “We may not have as much evidence as we would have if Kennedy had gone to the hospital, but wedohave evidence. I understand that your entanglement with me could cause some doubt, but at the risk of sounding like an asshole, Kennedy, look at him and look at me. There’s a clear difference in appeal.”
Jonathan smirks. “Exactly. I don’t buy that we can’t win this fight.”
“I’m not saying we can’t win it,” Jet states. “But, in my opinion, the likelihood of an ideal result isn’t great enough to make putting Kennedy through it worthwhile. I know you two have your need to conquer, but Kennedy’s the one who will get beat up, not you guys. Some fights are better won with patience and finesse than brute force. They’ll get what’s coming to them, but I prefer a method that doesn’t put Kennedy through more hell than she has already been through. And, regardless of what either of you wants, this isn’t up to you. It’s up to Kennedy. If she says no, the conversation is over. No one is reporting anything.”
I smile, feeling warmed by his support even if his dad and brother can’t entirely understand it. “Thanks, Jet.”
I do not expect Jet to wrest control of this conversation from his dadandbrother, but that’s exactly what he does, hopping off his seat and waving me over. “I got you something at the store last night. Want to see it?”
I want to escape this conversation, so I nod eagerly and follow him to the foyer.
“It’s just something little,” he says, glancing back at me. “But I saw it and thought it would make you smile.”
Just hearing that makes me smile. “Thanks, Jet.”
He grabs a Nordstrom bag from the floor beside the wall beneath the staircase and holds it out to me.
I take the bag and peek inside. I see sleek, shiny purse straps, so I grab them and pull it out.
It is a purse, an adorable, glittery one with cat ears and sleeping cat eyes over a background of pink, purple, and teal. It’s a fun, nonsense purse, but I absolutely love it and he’s right—it makes me grin.
“This is awesome, Jet. Thank you.”
He shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I thought you’d like it.”
Impulsively, I grab him and give him a hug. He’s awkward about it, but after a second he wraps his arms around me to give me a light hug back.
___
Hours later, I lie on the couch with Milo watching a movie while he plays with my hair. He’s stretched out across the couch, relaxed. I’m lying on top of him, my face pressed against his firm chest, one of his arms curled around my waist to keep me in place.
It’s nice.
Jet and Jonathan have both gone upstairs to do homework since we all have school tomorrow, but since I’m being such a slacker queen, I don’t have any homework to do tonight.
My stomach aches a little, which somewhat ruins my enjoyment of this intimate cuddle time.
“Hey, Milo?”
