When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(39)

She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s still sleeping?

With all my strength, I jerk Rico away from her. His body knocks over an armchair and careens into the side table. The lamp falls to the floor. Small shards of glass dance across the hardwood.

Kennedy’s body rocks slowly in the deep corner of the couch, a blank stare on her face. When I move closer, a sheen of sweat drips down her forehead. Her chin quivers. When I take another step, she flinches at my proximity. My chest tightens at her response, and my breaths grow staggered.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” I shout, twisting to find Amanda helping Rico off the floor. Dan runs from the room and returns with a broom to clean up the mess. I bump my chest into Rico’s. Amanda tries to put a hand between us, but I push her off. “Did you touch her? What the fuck did you do?” I push against his chest, but he braces for my blow.

“Graham!” Amanda shouts my name at the allegation. “He would never hurt her. She had a nightmare. She has nightmares. That’s all this is.” Her hand stays out, blocking me from Rico.

I turn as Kennedy’s tears fall down her face. Empty eyes greet me.

She doesn’t know where she’s at.

“Kennedy, I didn’t mean to scare you. You were whimpering.” Rico steps beside me, frantic to explain the situation. His eyes beg for my understanding. “She was whimpering in her sleep, man. I would never hurt her.” He addresses her now. “I’m so sorry. I’ve heard everything about what happened, and I should have known better.”

At the reminder of her past, she melts into the couch, snapping back to reality. She waves him off, laying her forehead on her arm. A light whimper escapes her.

I extend my arm to my side, blocking him from taking another step to her. “Shut the fuck up,” I yell at him.

Amanda ushers Rico out of the room, and Dan steps to Kennedy, whispering something in her ear. He pats me on the shoulder when he leaves.

I sit down on the couch, but this time, she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t budge, and I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not. Because I can’t muscle up the strength, I lean my forearms on my thighs, and my head falls into my hands. Unfamiliar thoughts unravel in my mind, and nothing I do can force them to disappear. I curse under my breath at the horrible images I create in my head. Images I’m not even sure are right, but with small bits of information, my mind creates a reality for Kennedy’s situation.

What it must be like to never feel safe. How simple tasks are no longer as easy as they once were. She will never have a sense of relief, and her past will litter her world until she takes her last breath. She will never understand why it happened to her. Kennedy knows the cruelty in this world firsthand, and she’s stared the monster in the face, but somehow, she still finds the strength to wake up every morning. No one would fault her if she pulled the covers over her eyes to forget.

The lump in my throat grows as I examine the situation from a different standpoint. I’ve never taken the time or perhaps I’ve been too afraid of what it will look like if I dive into the dark depths of Kennedy’s mind of that night, and all the nights after.

To stop the tears, I rub my thumb on the corner of my eyes. When I dry the wet pads on my jeans, a hand runs over my biceps. Her grip tight, she pulls me down until I’m lying on my side in front of her. I don’t question her because I need this. The air thickens. Something monumental is about to happen.

“Is that as bad as it gets?” I whisper.

“No,” she answers. Her soft breath hits my neck and I close my eyes.

“How bad, Kennedy?” I sigh.

“It depends. I can go weeks without having an episode, Graham, and then something will set me off. An odd stare from a stranger as I walk down the street. A song. Anything reminding me of being alone and scared.” Her hand skims around my waist. I wrap my fingers around hers, pressing them against my beating heart. “Jackie came to town after the worst of it. I haven’t had anything like that night since. I almost feel as if I’ve purged some of the anger and frustration and fears.”

“What night?” Kennedy has referred to that night a few times, and I’m curious as to what happened to prompt Jackie to make a trip to New York.

“I had a bad dream. Most of the time I can snap myself out of it, but this one was different. I saw his blue eyes, and no matter where I turned my head, they were there, reminding me of that night near the tractor.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t remember much, except what Violet’s explained to me. I broke everything in my bedroom. Without realizing my actions, I smashed everything. By the time Violet found me, broken glass from my full-length mirror was everywhere.”

Like the dance studio.

“She had no choice but to call my parents, and I don’t blame her. But since then, I’ve put a lot of pressure on our friendship. I’ve tested her patience and strength to withstand my demons inside me. It’s not her burden to carry. I think I’ve leaned on her in your absence.” Kennedy’s voice is distant, almost as if she’s reciting her deepest fears to herself.

“Again, your demons don’t scare any of us,” I repeat my sentiment from the first day she walked back into my life.

“He’s right.” Violet’s voice breaks through. Tears trickle down her cheeks.

I sit up and hear a small whimper escape Kennedy’s lips. When I turn back to her, I pat her hand, reassuring her everything’s going to be okay.