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“Once you are dressed, we will get you some heavy socks. You’ll be warm in no time.”
With my muscles screaming at me for being dormant for so long and getting cold, Kennedy has to help me stand and get dressed. Shivers wrack my body in the process. It takes several minutes to get me covered. As soon as I am dressed, Kennedy urges me to sit on the edge of the bed. Cracking the bedroom door open, she yells out to the guys, asking them to make tea. After closing the door, she moves to her dresser and starts rifling through one of the drawers. After digging around, she cheers in triumph at finding her prize. Waving a pair of socks around in the air, she moves back to kneel in front of me, putting the thick socks on my ice-cold feet.
Once I am bundled up, Kennedy pulls the blankets back, helping me into bed before pulling them up to my chin. I could kick Karoline’s ass right now. My head spins at all of the chaos she has caused in such a short period of time. It’s difficult to pick which of her offenses is the most heinous.
Karoline flirted with almost every guy on campus, including Brock, his teammates, and Kennedy’s guys. And those are just the ones that I witnessed.
Then she opened her mouth about my past with cutting. The worry in Kennedy’s and the guys’ eyes is weighing heavily on me, making me feel guilty.
Karoline’s pièce de résistancewas to pickpocket Zanko’s keys and bust in on the tail end of me grinding on Brock’s lap in their room.
Several minutes later, a soft knock at the door has Kennedy moving to answer it. Soft-spoken words between her and whichever guy is on the other side tugs at my heart. The snick of the door closing has Kennedy moving back toward me. Sitting on the edge of my bed, she carefully hands me a hot cup of tea.Luckily, the cup is not completely full as my shaking hands grip it tightly, absorbing the warmth.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kennedy softly questions.
Taking a sip of tea in an effort to delay the inevitable, I grip the cup tightly, pulling it close to my chest and absorbing the heat. Kennedy waits me out until I launch into the events of the evening. By the time I finish speaking, Kennedy’s face is flush with anger. If she was a cartoon character, smoke would be pouring out of her ears.
Bowing her head, she picks at her nails.
“I owe you an apology,” she starts, confusion crossing my face.
“For?”
“When we got home, I panicked.”
Sitting expectantly for her to continue, it surprises me when she doesn’t.
“Why?” I ask, breaking the silence and urging her to continue speaking.
“With Karoline’s story the other day, I feared the worst,” she mutters.
Moments pass before her meaning sinks in. She is referring to the information about my cutting.
“It was a logical leap. You don’t need to worry about that happening. Being away from my toxic family has helped eliminate the need. My self-worth and self-esteem have increased. It will take a lot more than Karoline causing a scene for me to fall back to that habit.”
Her body relaxes.
“Do you want me to stay in here with you tonight?” Kennedy asks, still refusing to look at me.
“Kennedy, go be with your men. Wanting to babysit me is appreciated, not necessary.”
I really just want to be alone. Or, maybe, back in Brock’s room, warped in those strong arms of his.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but instead of voicing them, I bite them back, holding them in. Kennedy has been protective since the moment she met me, defending me against Danica and her crew.
Her protectiveness is smothering at the best of times. If I express my desire to be alone, it will kick her into overdrive.
Pasting what I hope is a reassuring smile on my face, I silently pray she doesn’t see through my facade.
“If you are sure,” she states, rising to her feet.
Turning away from me, she picks something up before turning back to me. In her outstretched hand is my phone.
“It has been going off for a while now. You might want to call him back,” she says with a gentle smile.
Taking the phone, I spin it over and over in my hand, not finding the strength or fortitude to look at the messages, knowing full well that it is Brock who has been calling. Sipping my tea, the hot liquid burns my mouth and throat, giving me a slight distraction form the events of the evening.
Setting the tea aside and wanting to talk to someone, I open my contacts. As soon as I find the person I am looking for, I press the button to connect the call. Tears well in my eyes as the phone rings in my ear.
