Still Not Over You(52)

“Fuck, Kenna. It was easier to just bury everything. For myself, and for Mom. I wanted to just live my life, be a better man than he was. I was still struggling with that, the day you read my journal, after I'd vomited those thoughts down on paper.”

But you think you’re a monster with the strength to kill someone for vengeance, I think. Even if I know that’s not all you are.

I settle into him, tucking my legs up and making myself small against his side. My hand curls against his chest. “I know what burying the hard stuff is like.”

He smiles faintly, eyes softening. God, does he know I’m talking about the crush that never died?

Of course he knows.

It’s like he’s inside my head all the time.

Inside my heart.

Inside every beating chamber. And he captures my hand, then, lifts it from his chest to kiss my knuckles, before letting go to cup my cheek.

“No more,” he says. “Life’s too fucking short for hide and seek. Or for digging holes.”

“No more,” I repeat, nodding.

But I’m a liar.

Because I’m hiding right now, and refusing to face the enormity of this ten thousand ton feeling crouched over me like a demon waiting to strike.





14





He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother (Landon)





Being with Kenna shouldn’t be this comfortable.

It’s like there’s a time bubble that exists around us. Long as I’m with her, I’m back in the days before I knew how terrible the world could be.

Before I knew what a piece of shit my father was. Before I knew how horrifying war was. Before I had to pull the trigger on ending lives with my own two hands in Iraq, killing for my country, my men, and sometimes just raw fucking survival.

Before I knew what I’m capable of, when so much blood is already steeped in my skin.

Being with Kenna lets me avoid facing that. It brings an eerie calm, this peace that says maybe, deep down, I could still be the man she thinks I am.

Maybe Old Landon isn't dead.

Maybe I could be someone who won’t disappoint her, won’t blow her heart to smithereens all over again.

But I know that’s a lie.

I know what I am.

I know what I have to do.

These stolen moments are just a brief reprieve from the harshness of reality.

Nothing more.

I’m languishing in one such stolen moment, now. I only have a day left before I’m heading down to the Bay Area again to deal with Milah. I’m soaking up as much sun and as much Kenna as I can.

We’d dozed off on the patio last night, sprawled out under the clear bright sky on the outdoor lounger, and now I’m half-asleep, drowsing and lingering on how insanely good she feels in my arms.

I don’t really want to wake up. I don't want to leave this woman. I don't want to push her away because all the bad shit puts me on my knees.

But the feeling of someone watching us puts me on high alert.

I hold completely still. Trained combat reflexes, everything I learned by fire not to let a potential enemy combatant know I’m awake and aware of their presence.

Carefully, I crack one eye open.

And then release an explosive, pent up sigh, opening both my eyes fully for the hell that's in front of me.

Steve. Sitting there on one of the patio chairs, watching us with a hangdog look.

“Jesus, Steve,” I mutter.

Oh fuck. It's sinking in.

Steve. Here. Watching. Us.

And I'm here with Kenna in my arms.

I start scrambling up, but there’s no use denying it now.

Shit! I sink back down in the lounger, while Kenna stirs sleepily, burrowing into me in that kittenish way she has. I bump her with my elbow.

“Wake up, Reb.”

“Nah...no...five more minutes...”

This is not the time for her to be this cute. “…you really want to wake up. We’ve got company. And he doesn’t look too happy.”

“Understatement of the year,” Steve growls, his voice tight.

I haven't seen him look this pissed since we lost our last game of football Senior year.

His voice doesn't match. Mostly, it sounds dejected. Worse than pissed off.

At the sound of his voice, Kenna stiffens. Her eyes go wide, and she turns a slow, dread-filled look over her shoulder – only to scramble upright, prying away from me, skittering to the other side of the lounger.

That shouldn’t sting, but it does. The truth is out.

It's too late.

Rejecting me now won’t really help.

She stares, frozen, between me and Steve, then stammers, “I-it’s not what you think...”

“Don’t. Please, Kenna,” Steve interjects quietly. “You already lied to me once. Can’t stand it again.”

That stark, heavy look in his eyes – fuck. I’d expected anger.

I hadn’t expected the open, naked betrayal on his face, or how deep it cuts me as he continues, “Melanie found the condom. You should’ve been more careful.” His jaw clenches. “Or, hey, maybe you both could’ve just told me the fucking truth instead of sneaking around behind my back, screwing around on my property..”

I close my eyes, dragging a heavy palm over my face.