What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(53)

“God, I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for one of the napkins in the holder on his counter. He blew his nose, wiping away the tears from his eyes with an embarrassed glance in my direction. “This might actually be the most mortifying thing I’ve ever done.”

I smiled, but it was weak, falling too soon as I took the seat next to him. “What, you’re embarrassed that you have feelings, that you’re hurting on the anniversary of your family’s death?” I shook my head. “If you didn’t feel like this, I’d be concerned you were a serial killer.”

He smirked, letting out a long, low breath. “Yeah, well, I should have had this breakdown alone. Not with my student.” He eyed me then, smirk climbing. “Not that I had a choice in the matter.”

“I brought you soup,” I defended. “Excuse me for being a nice human being.”

He chuckled, silence falling over us as he wiped a hand over his now-dry face. Reese took a swig from his beer can as an uncomfortable wave rolled over me. I swallowed down the urge to vomit.

“My dad died, too.”

Reese snapped his attention to me so fast I thought he’d broken his neck. He opened his mouth, let it hang there, and then closed it again, waiting a long moment before he spoke. “I thought… you talked about your parents a couple times, I just always assumed…”

“I know,” I said on a sigh, folding my arms over my chest with my gaze on the floor. “I don’t really talk about it much. I don’t really talk about anything, mostly because I feel the same way you do.” I wrinkled my nose. “Well, not exactly the same, but… I understand what you mean when you say that you feel alone. That maybe you’re meant to be that way.”

Reese grimaced. “You’re too young to feel that way.”

I laughed at that. “Yeah, well, I’m too young for a lot of the shit that’s happened in my life. But, that’s just how it is sometimes.”

He was quiet at that, and just as that silence fell over us, a loud rumble of thunder rolled through the house.

“My dad was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, kind of like your family,” I continued after a long pause. “He stopped at a convenience store when it was being robbed. The kid shot him without even a second thought.” I shook my head, remembering the security footage my mother and I had to watch at the trial — like any punishment was suitable for what he’d taken from us. “It was like a nightmare, seeing how fast his life was taken from him. Just a flick of a boy’s finger on a trigger — one not much older than I was at the time — and a bullet was sent straight through my father’s head. And then, he was just… gone.”

Reese’s shoulders fell, and I knew without him saying a word that he completely understood that feeling.

“My life seemed so perfect up until that point,” I whispered. “And I swear, ever since then, everything has gone downhill.”

Reese chuffed. “Isn’t that the wildest part? I felt the same way, like I lived in this bubble of oblivion where I felt invincible, like nothing could touch me or the people I loved. And then that bubble popped, and I woke up in an entirely new world.”

“And this new world is a cruel sonofabitch.”

He nodded, bringing his gaze to me, then. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

I glanced at him just in time to see him close his eyes, like how old I was when it happened wasn’t fair. I guess, in a way, it wasn’t. I was just so used to it, so used to the narrative of my life that I didn’t even know how to feel sad about it anymore.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he said after a moment. “Not that that helps at all. But, I’m just… I hate that you had to go through that.”

Every muscle was wound so tight in that moment that I was physically sore, and I reached back to rub one shoulder as I shrugged. “People have been through worse.”

My eyes met Reese’s then, and the way he looked at me was with a newfound respect, like everything about who I was as a person had changed now that he knew what I’d been through.

If he only knew that wasn’t even the half of it.

A crack of lightning lit up the house, the thunder that followed waking me from my daze. I shook my head, forcing a smile as I stood straight. “So,” I said. “Soup?”

Reese smiled, letting out a long breath like his chest had been wound up tight just like mine. “Soup. I’ll grab the bowls.”

The soup had grown cold, so I reheated it in the microwave once we’d split it between two bowls. Then, Reese and I curled up on opposite ends of the couch, Rojo between us as an old movie played on the TV, the rain still pouring down outside. I wasn’t sure either one of us even watched the film, but the noise was comforting, the occasional reason to smile or laugh a nice relief.

Rojo laid her head in my lap once I’d finished eating, and I rubbed behind her ears absentmindedly, my thoughts drifting all over the place. I thought of my father, of how the anniversary of his death would come up soon. It had been almost six years now, which meant that really, Reese and I had been going through the same thing at the same time on two opposite sides of the country. I wondered how many other people were dealing with that grief right now, losing a parent or friend or — worse — a child.