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Exhaling roughly, he starts shaking his head, and then he lets out a grunt that resembles a pissed-off grizzly bear. He didn’t mean to tell me that. His regret is obvious, and instantaneous, and I’m not sure if he’s angry at his father right now, or angry at himself. His fingers curl into fists against his muscular thighs, and he starts rubbing them up and down over the smooth cotton of his scrubs.
I did not seethatcoming. “I’m sorry—”
“Hey, isn’t it my turn now?” he asks softly.
Studying his dark brown eyes, I try desperately to find a clue as to what he’s feeling. But for now, I’ll play it his way. Swallowing the thick lump in my throat, I eventually nod and say, “Sure.”
“You live in the city?” he asks the question quickly as if he’s worried I’m going to change my mind.
“I live in lower Manhattan, but I was born and raised in Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn’s cool. I’ve got an apartment there.”
“I thought you lived near Central Park.”
“I do. My condo is opposite Central Park. That’s where I spend most of my time when we’re not on the road. But I also have an apartment in Brooklyn, a rental property in Maine, as well as a vacation house up in the mountains. The Catskills area to be exact. I fucking love it up there.”
I listen intently as he tells me more about his house up in the mountains and how he uses it as an escape, a place to get away from it all when the city gets to be too much. Or life gets to be too much. Everything gets to be too much. It sounds amazing.
He tells me that he owns a Harley Davidson and a silver Jaguar F-type special edition, but that the real love of his life is his 1970 black Chevy Malibu. Apparently it has a red leather interior and so much polished chrome, it’s fucking sick. His words, not mine.
As I listen to Kael talk, I soon realize he’s not showing off by telling me all this. He’s just stating facts, plain and simple. It makes sense that he’d own real estate and fancy cars. He’s the bass guitarist for one of the biggest rock bands in the country, so he obviously earns a decent income. I shudder to think just how much.
“We’ll circle back to your father later, but can you tell me something about your mother? Are you still close?”
Pain and regret instantly war in his eyes. “She died of breast cancer when I was nineteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it was tough losing her.”
I stare down at my hands. It makes me wonder what else he’s got buried just below the surface of his rough exterior. “Do you want to talk about her illness?”
“Nah, you’re not ready for that kind of truth yet, Jonesy.” His voice cracks with the deep sentiment of his thoughts, and he collapses back on the couch, his feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table. “And honestly, neither am I.”
Sienna
Day 13
For the past three days Kael and I have gone back and forth. He asks me questions. I ask him questions. And while I know it’s not entirely ethical for him to know things about my personal life, it also seems to be the only way I can get him to open up to me.
I glance across the room at him, where he’s holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hands, sipping it slowly, watching the steam rise up from the surface of the mug.
Caffeine seems to be his only friend this afternoon, so I wait until he’s got a decent couple of sips in him before I ask him another question.
“Are you still in contact with your father? Do you see him very often?”
“Nope,” he replies, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He places his mug down on the coffee table in front of him and then glances at the closed door.
“That’s very vague, Kael.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You don’t like talking about your father?”
“I’ve never told anyone else what he did to us. What he did to me. What he did to my mom.” Kael’s lips involuntarily frown with whatever thought just went through his head. “Not until the other day. Not until you.”
When I look up, I see his eyes on me. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, dark secrets holding him back, and all I want to do is free him from the darkness. There are usually two reasons why people don’t want to talk about things—either it means nothing to them, or it means everything.
