I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(77)

“We went apple picking that day with my dad.” Kay’s voice is soft and bereft. “That was Sarah’s last autumn.”

My girl shakes her head once, and I see she’s trying not to cry.

“Hey, it’s okay to be sad.” I rub her shoulder.

Kay fans her face and takes a deep breath. Only one tear escapes and she swipes it away quickly. She apologizes for getting emotional, and I tell her, “You never have to apologize to me for what you’re feeling.” It’s the truth.

Kay turns the page and there’s one more photo of Sarah. In this one, Kay’s little sister is sleeping, holding the stuffed rabbit I rescued last night. “She couldn’t sleep without Peetie,” Kay whispers, and then she sits up abruptly and her tear-filled eyes search mine.

“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She shakes her head slightly. “I was just thinking, remember how I told you I was planning to leave Peetie at Sarah’s grave…but I couldn’t?” I nod. “Do you think I’m wrong to keep him, Chase? Do you think he should be with Sarah?” Her face is panicked, but I sense this isn’t really about Peetie. “What if I’m making wrong decisions and don’t even know it? Maybe I’m just selfish, keeping things for myself—no, keeping things to myself.” Her caramel-browns implore. “What if you found out something about me, and then realized I am not the person you think I am, Chase?”

I place the album on the desk. “Come here.”

I give her the biggest hug possible, which is pretty huge since my arms encompass her.

“I know you, right?” I whisper into her ear. She nods. “Well, I love that person, the person I know you are, Kay. Don’t ever doubt that, baby. Now, what’s this really all about anyway?”

Kay holds on to me like she fears she’ll lose me if she lets go. Never going to happen.

“I have to tell you something, Chase,” she begins. “Something about the night Sarah died. The story you heard isn’t the truth, and I need to tell you what really happened. I made a horrible mistake that night and it cost Sarah her life. You deserve to know what it was, but I…I…I’m terrified to tell you.” She finally breaks her hold and leans back.

She can tell me anything, there’s nothing to fear. I brush her hair back and say all this and more, but every time my girl attempts to divulge this secret, it’s like she physically can’t get the words out, like she’s been traumatized or something.

“Why are you so afraid?” I ask, since I know it can’t be me that’s intimidating her. I’d never judge her, and she knows it.

She takes a deep breath. “I told someone once, and…it didn’t go so well.”

“Your mother,” I guess.

“Yes,” she answers listlessly.

Fuck, her mother really does blame her for Sarah dying. Father Maridale was right. I sigh and shake my head. “And this secret is why this woman won’t speak to you?”

I’d like to get “this woman” alone in a room for a few minutes to shake some sense into her. Hurting my girl like this—wounding her, really—talk about a bitch move of epic proportions.

Kay nods, and I bring her to me once again. I tell her she doesn’t have to ever share this secret if she doesn’t want to. I’ll love her no matter what she decides to do—tell, or not tell. But if she feels she must disclose whatever it is, I think she should hold off for a while. Hell, she’s just getting over what happened at her apartment building last night. And, sure, her cheek may only be a little red and swollen today, but I can see there’s still a bruise on her leg, and surely there’s a bruise that’s not visible, but still there, on her psyche. She’s wounded. Waiting is best for now. After I say all of this, Kay whispers, “Thank you, Chase,” against my chest.

We sit quietly for a few more minutes, but then Kay slides off my lap and takes the photo album back upstairs. Even though she swore she wasn’t hungry when she first came down earlier, I figure a piece of toast and some juice might do her some good.

I go into the kitchen and place two slices of bread in the toaster, and pour some juice for each of us. Kay comes into the room just as I’m buttering. With emotions now settled, we sit at the kitchen table, eat buttered toast, and talk about getting my girl moved into the apartment above the garage.

“I can’t wait to finally see the apartment in person,” she tells me between bites. “It looks so awesome in the flyers.”

“You’re going to love it,” I tell her.

A short while later we head next door to Kay’s new living space, her “awesome” new apartment. I carry her suitcase in one hand, and, in the other, a duffel bag that looks like it’s been beaten to hell and back. Kay follows me across the driveway and up the wooden steps trailing along the far side of the detached garage. When we reach the top and step inside the apartment, my girl’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh my God, Chase, this place is incredible,” she gushes as she spins around, taking everything in.

There’s a lot of light coming in through the skylights, so there’s no need to turn on any of the lamps. I point out some things I think she may like in the little kitchenette, and when I open the door to the still-brand-new oven, she peeks in. “You never cooked when you lived here?” she asks, disbelief on her face.