Little Lies(77)

“I figure you can handle him.” He bites the inside of his lip, fighting a smile.

I turn my head and huff a laugh. “Making coffee and pulling a box of cereal out of a cupboard doesn’t erase all the awful things you’ve said and done.”

“I know.” He reaches across the table, palm up. “I’m so tired of trying to make you hate me. I just want to love you again, but better this time.”

I line my fingers up with his, the tips touching. “I don’t need to be saved anymore, Kodiak. I slay my own dragons now.”

He curls his pinkie around mine and nods.

And we begin again.





Chapter Twenty-Six


Let Me Back in

Lavender

Present day

IRONICALLY, NEITHER OF my brothers is home this morning, so Kodiak and I end up driving in together in my car. It’s weird at best. He doesn’t make any snide, shitty comments. In fact, he doesn’t say much at all, but I can tell by the way he keeps his hands on his knees that he’s seriously anxious.

“Talk,” I tell him.

“Huh?”

“What’s eating at you?” I point to his legs.

“I don’t know. Everything, I guess.”

“Want to get a little more specific?”

“I don’t know how to be around you. I want to touch you, but I don’t think I’m allowed to yet.” He runs his hands up and down his thighs.

“You would be correct.”

He nods and blows out a breath. “I need to earn your trust again.”

“You do,” I agree. “And we don’t even really know each other anymore, Kodiak. What if you don’t like this version of me?”

“I already like this version of you. I like that you don’t take shit. I like that you’re strong and independent and that you know what you want. I like that despite knowing what’s best for you, you still took into consideration what was best for River when you decided you were going to live in that house with them this year, and that you deferred declaring your major so you could get a handle on things first. I like that you won’t just forgive me and let it all go. And even though I have no idea whether or not you’ll ever really be able to forgive me, this is the most at peace I’ve felt in a lot of years.”

That he’s paid attention gives me hope that maybe we can be a better version of us. Something new and redefined. I pull into the lot and find a spot near the back, shifting the car into park and cutting the engine. “Why is it like this with us?”

“I don’t know, but fighting it has been torture.” He places his hand palm-down on the center console and splays his fingers out. I spot the small infinity sign tattooed into the webbing between his ring and middle finger on his left hand.

I trace the sign on the back of his hand. “When did you get that?”

“Christmas break two years ago.” He flips his hand over again, his expression hopeful.

“Why?” I slide my fingers between his, and he curls them around mine, squeezing gently.

“I needed a reminder so I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.”

“Mistake?”

“Thinking I could handle being near you without fucking things up.” He stares at our twined hands. “I don’t think I ever got over that night at the carnival. I knew we should’ve waited for you and River, and we didn’t, and then you went missing. It was the longest hour of my life, Lavender, and after . . . none of us was ever the same. You weren’t the same. But when I figured out I could help you with the anxiety, it felt like I got you back, that we were connected again, and I didn’t want to lose that. So I did everything I could to keep you close, and by doing that, I screwed us both up. After we moved, I thought it would get easier, but it never did. And then you stopped answering my messages, and I figured you’d realized how bad I was for you.”

“Except it was River blocking your messages.” Talking to River about this isn’t going to be pretty.

We sit in silence for a minute, eyes on each other, absorbing this new situation, until his phone chimes with an alert. He glances at the clock on the dash. “Dammit. I have class in fifteen minutes.”

We untwine our hands. I feel off-balance after just that innocuous contact, because now that the walls are coming down, there’s potential for so much more. Also, the shit I pulled in my bedroom sits between us like a fresh cum shot.

So I should not be surprised when Kodiak falls into step beside me as we cross campus and mutters, “Uh, about last night . . .”

“You really want to talk about that now?” There are people everywhere. Girls gawk openly, as if I don’t exist. He’s walking close, but not quite touching me.

He side-eyes me. “I was kind of wondering if that was, like, a one-time thing, or if maybe it was going to happen again?”

“Is that you saying you’d like it to happen again?” How is this even a conversation I’m entertaining at nine in the morning?

“I wouldn’t be opposed, you know, until I earn the actual right to be the one who does that for you.” We stop in front of the theater, and he jams his hand in his pocket. He looks halfway between earnest and like he wants to devour me.

“I guess you better talk to Maverick, then.” I turn and walk away, smiling to myself. It’s odd to have the upper hand with Kodiak. Or maybe I always had it and never realized. Either way, he needs to know who he’s dealing with now.