When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(11)

“You’re stronger than you think, Ken. I’m not what makes you strong, so please remember that. Keep your shoulders back and your head held high. You’ve earned the right to feel confident.”

I brush the tears away to take in his ungodly perfect features. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He shrugs.

“Say the right thing at the exact moment when I need to hear it.” I rest my head on his chest.

His warm, strong hands wrap around my back, tickling my spine with his fingertips. “Because I know you, and I know your head is racing to unnecessary depths.” He holds me at arm’s length. “You’re going to be okay, even when it’s hard. You’ll survive this because you’re strong and resilient.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You survived the past two years, Kennedy. Nothing can hold you back unless you let it. You’re due a little fun and freedom from this place.” Graham motions to the space around us, referring to this town that sometimes feels like it has a choke hold on us both.

“We’re both due a little freedom from this place, Graham.”

“As soon as I get there, I’ll call you. We’ll talk every day and FaceTime,” he assures me.

Our lips graze, and the heat from his skin radiates onto mine. With my hands wrapped around his shoulders, I jump to bind my legs around him. He turns until I’m sitting on the hood of his car.

“I’m going to miss this,” I say, running my hands up and down his arms.

He closes the small gap and runs his tongue along the seam of my lips. “I’m going to miss this, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls out of the driveway, leaving me with a blotchy, tear-stained face, and a box I’m too afraid to open. There’s a finality to him driving away. It looms over me until I can barely take it, and when it becomes too much, I rip away the gold paper. Underneath the lid is a bangle bracelet with a compass charm. At first, I’m confused until I read the small white card.

The past year and a half hasn’t been easy on either of us, but one thing is true, Kennedy. We both survived, and I’d like to believe it’s because we had each other, even when we didn’t. Prom night, I told you I was born to find you. Whenever you look down at this bracelet, know, no matter where we end up, I will find my way back to you. I love you, Kennedy Conrad. Nothing in this world can keep me away.

I slide down the door of my car and cry, rubbing my fingertips over the beautiful, gold compass charm. A small splinter of hope pierces my heart once again.

“What you feel for Graham, I think I could have with Mark. Something’s different about him, Kennedy. He’s not like any guy I’ve ever met,” Bea explains, dragging me from my memory.

“My mom believes some of us can know, the moment we meet someone, that they have the capacity to change us, move us to be someone we never thought imaginable. When that happens, we need to have hope they will find it within themselves.”

“Basically, you’re telling me to take a leap of faith?” she questions.

I shrug. “You’re here, aren’t you? It would seem to me that you’ve already taken the leap.”

Bea quiets and turns her entire body to lean against the cold window. I press against the headrest. My eyes shut, and I rub the face of the compass between two fingers. The all-too-familiar burn radiates behind my eyelids. My bottom lip quivers, and a warm hand links with mine. I don’t need to open my eyes to sense Amanda’s presence.

No words need to be said. She’s been witness to the small motion over the past year. The ritual is pointless, a security blanket almost, a glimmer of hope in the vastness of all the hopelessness.

*****

“Well, ladies, we’re here.”

Dan’s voice startles me to a more alert position. Everyone is picking up trash and grabbing their bags.

In front of me is a beautiful, Tudor-style home. The gray paint and the gorgeous white trim sets it apart from the others on the street. The steep roof. The decorative timber. The embellished doors and windows. The side gables. The stone chimney. This is my dream house, almost to a scary, vivid exactness. I step onto the sidewalk, lost in my imagination.

Dan strides up next to me. “Who lives here?” I ask.

“I don’t got a clue. This is the address Mark texted me,” he answers, admiring the same details as me.

“I thought we were staying in a hotel,” Amanda says as she comes to my other side.

“Once Mark heard we were going to be in Connecticut, he refused to let us stay anywhere else. Something about having plenty of space.” Dan gestures to the house.

Violet laughs. “Clearly.”

The front door slams. Mark jogs down the walkway. His gaze moves across the group until his baby blues find Bea. She fidgets from foot to foot, her eyes zeroed in on the crack running the width of the cement path.

Amanda elbows an unaware Bea, pointing to Mark, who’s patiently waiting to be noticed. When Bea’s eyes snap up, Mark laughs, closes the distance between them, and scoops her up in his arms and spins her around. “I didn’t know you were coming.” The brown curls on her head swish around her face until he sets her safely on the ground.

“I hope it’s okay. I don’t mean to impose.” Bea rubs her palms up and down her jean-clad thighs.