Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)(19)

I clench my teeth together as I clobber my fist on the wall. I hate him. I hate that he’s made me this way, and that I don’t feel like I’m good enough for anyone, that every choice I make isn’t right.

“Why can’t I just live?” I roar out, my voice echoing off the walls. My breaths are heaving and my knuckles are busted open again. Fucking great.

“You can if you let go of whatever it is that’s holding you back.” Kennedy’s voice vibrates through my body, singing to me. I turn around startled to see her, but happy at the same time. What’s she doing here? Probably coming to see Mimi.

She gives me a shy smile as she walks down the remaining steps. Before I realize it, she’s directly in front of me, and it takes everything in me not to hold her to my body to hear her shallows breaths and feel her heart beat next to mine. *… my ego taunts me.

“You really should think about punching something much softer next time you want to lash out!” she exclaims, taking my hand in her small one to examine it.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” She peers up at me over the rim of her glasses. A frown mars her beautiful face, and I hate to see it there. I especially hate that I put it there.

“The pain. It makes it better,” I say hoarsely, grappling with the fact that I probably shouldn’t have said that. One question leads to others, and I don’t know if I have the strength to not tell her. Hell, I don’t think I have the strength to tell her.

She lets out a quiet laugh, “Pain makes the anger better? Putting yourself through more hurt makes the hurt better? That is completely absurd.” She releases my hand, the warmth leaving me. Even in my darkest moments, I know Kennedy can pull me out of it. We all need someone in our lives like that who pull us from those moments when we have completely lost hope.

“The pain reminds me that the hurt is real, Kennedy.” I try to hide the anger from my voice because I’m not mad at her. I’m mad at myself for being the bastard my dad always said I would be, for living up to his gracious beliefs of the person he wanted me to be.

“Does your brother know about this? About what your dad did, or still does, to you?” I push her against the wall out of plain anger and rage. A gasp leaves her mouth. Would I hurt her? I can practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

“No one knows, just you and me,” I say menacing. All I see is blind rage right now, but yet my touch is gentle as I grip her chin to turn her to face me. Her lip is quivering in fear, and I start to hate myself for putting those walls back up.

“You won’t be telling anyone will you?” I hate instilling this fear in her, but if I didn’t… then my secrets could escape.

She shakes her head back and forth, small wisps of hair fall onto her forehead. I release her chin and slam my fist into the wall. Again, and again. I can feel her fear, tears leak from tightly closed eyes. I nestle myself into her neck, taking in her scent. She doesn’t shudder away from me, so I assume she’s okay. I thought wrong.

“Don’t… Don’t touch me. I’ll scream.” She lets out a ragged sob out of fear, I’m sure. Her tears somehow bring me back to the surface and I gently grip her arms, holding her in place so she can’t escape me.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begs. I’m bewildered by her admission.

“If I wanted to hurt you, K, I would,” I mumble into her hair.

“Please…” she pleads with me, assuming that I could ever lay a hand on her. Then I remember everything she has been through with Sam.

“K, look at me. I would never, in my entire life, lay a hand on your delicate body. I would never inflict any type of pain on you. I might get angry, and I might hit shit, but it will never be your beautiful face that my fist lands on.”

Her eyes pop open, the deep, blue hue urging me to dive into her, to dissect her as a person, and figure out what makes her tick.

“I care about you, Kennedy.” The sentence slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.

She looks at me, mystified by the fact that I could care for someone. She’s not alone though, I can’t believe it either.

“Well, I care about you too, Ryder, so I think you should tell your brother.” I bite my lip hard, the sting of my teeth digging into my lip as drops of blood pool in my mouth. I shake my head at her. I will never tell Rex. He has so much going for him, so much in life. I refuse to darken his life with my burdens. Plus, he would feel as if he’s to blame, and the last thing I need is pity.

“Kennedy, you cannot tell him. You cannot tell anyone. If I want someone to know, I will tell them. It’s my secret to tell.” Her wide eyed stare tells me she understands me. We both have secrets, and it’s our choice to share them.

“But…” she says, nibbling on her bottom lip. I take my finger and place it against her lips.

“No but…”

“I just want to help you,” she mutters against my finger. Her hot breath does something to my mind, clogging it with images of her under me, on me, on the table, in the shower… My lips descend on hers before I even realize what I’m doing. A squeak emits from her as she opens her mouth allowing my tongue to mingle with hers. I know it’s just a kiss, but the beast in me takes hold as I grip her face between my hands not allowing her to move one millimeter from me.

We kiss with passion and aggression. She pushes to meet my lips, standing on her tip toes. I let out a loud groan as her teeth nip at my lip. I feel myself growing possessive of her.