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I stop in the kitchen and grab a bottle of water so I don’t have to come back down, then I hurry up the stairs before Milo and Jonathan come inside.
My heart races as I close the bedroom door and lean back against it.
All the relief I felt just a few minutes ago feels like a daydream.
Reality crashes down around me.
I look at the bed where Jonathan fucked me last night and remember all the filthy things he said to me.
Yeah, it was what I needed in that moment.
But I don’t know how I’ll ever look Milo in the eye again.
Chapter twenty-two
Milo
The house is somber and still when I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs and instantly become alert.
It doesn’t feel like her, but I hope it is, anyway. I haven’t gotten a good look at Kennedy since last night. All the bullshit aside, I need to see for myself how she’s doing.
I’m sitting at the kitchen island trying to get some work done—work I don’t technically need to do right now, but I need to keep my mind occupied, and this seemed the best way. I couldn’t sleep for shit last night, and the dull ache behind my eyes isn’t helping matters.
I hold my breath as I wait for someone to round the corner. I know how much water Kennedy drinks and how long she has been upstairs; she should be thirsty by now.
I’m disappointed when it’s my son who saunters into the kitchen.
My fists curl up unconsciously and I have to make an effort to unclench them.
I guess she is thirsty, so she senthimdown to get her a drink.
The knowledge sends a blast of heat through my veins, but I try to ignore it.
I’m not used to feeling this adversarial toward my own son, but it’s hard not to after last night.
I watch as Jonathan takes two bottles of water out of the refrigerator, then focus my attention back on my open laptop so I don’t have to look at him when he turns around.
“We should probably have dinner at some point,” I state.
“Can it wait until I get back? I don’t really trust you down here with her alone.”
“You don’t trust me with her,” I echo in disbelief.
Jonathan cuts me a look. He’s not sorry, the little bastard, and I’d punch him in the face if he were anyone else. “The last thing she needs right now is fucking relationship drama.”
“Where are you going?” I ask, not bothering to respond to his comment.
“I have an appointment,” he says vaguely. “Kennedy is afraid to see you. She’s hiding out in my room, but I need you to keep an ear out while I’m gone. Maybe walk up there and listen at the door just to make sure you hear her moving around inside. I don’t know how long I’ll be, and her mental state is like a fucking Yo-Yo today. All it’ll take is one bad moment for everything to go to shit, so I need to know you’re going to be fucking nice if you see her, and I would really prefer that you didn’t—at least not until I’m back and you guys won’t be alone together. There’s too much hurt there and she can’t cope with that right now.”
Hearing that pushes aside a lot of the feelings I’ve been wrestling with and brings my focus to her base level of well-being. My brow furrows with concern. “How is she doing?”
He shrugs. “I don’t fucking know. She’s taking a tour of all her emotions today. Right now, she’s lying in my bed listening to Metallica and sobbing into a pillow. I didn’t ask why, but it’s certainly not becauseIlike them. I need to go out, but I can’t fucking leave unless I have your word that if you do see her, you won’t be mean to her. She can’t handle that today.”
“Where do you have to go?” I ask again since he didn’t answer the first time.
“I need to get tested.”
My heart stops and plummets down the empty shaft of my stomach. “What? Why?”
