I jump and look up. Kassidy is standing in the kitchen. I completely forgot she was home. She gives me a look I know so well.
Pity.
I wipe my eyes. “I’m fine.”
She arches an eyebrow and sits down next to me.
“You’re not fine,” she whispers. “What did he do?”
I’m a bit surprised by her tone. She’s not judging. Neither is she criticizing. That’s new. I would’ve expected her to be super hard on me after what happened at the dinner. I hesitate, mentally battling myself on whether or not I’m ready to share the story with her. Or anyone.
“Winter, please. Let me be there for you.”
Then I can’t hold back anymore. The story spills out of me like a never-ending waterfall. Kass doesn’t comment. I tell her everything. I tell her about the rooftop, the pool, the beach. All of it. She nods and chuckles at the funny parts throughout the story. I tell her about all the things that got me to where I am today. To being one more pawn on Haze Adams’s chessboard.
To being a game.
“He didn’t mean it,
” she says. “He’s afraid, Winter. Typical boy.”
“Afraid of what? That I caught feelings and he didn’t?” I scoff. I refuse to let her get my hopes up.
“No, dummy.” She pauses and sighs like she’s wondering why she has to be surrounded by idiots. “He’s not afraid because you caught feelings. He’s afraid because he’s feeling it, too.”
To say this simple little sentence didn’t amplify my suffering by a thousand would be a big fat lie. The last thing I want to hear right now is that he didn’t mean it. I want her to tell me he sucks. I want her to tell me I’ll be okay.
That I’ll get over him and his stupid blue eyes.
“Oh shoot. I’m late for my shift. I have to go. But please, call me if you need anything, okay?” she asks, giving me a quick hug. “Oh, and don’t text him. Let him be alone with his lies for a while. Might be exactly what he needs.”
I watch her walk out of the house in a hurry and enter the bathroom. I step in the shower, standing completely still under the hot water for a couple of minutes. The last words she said before closing the door echo in the back of my mind.
“Never underestimate a man’s capacity to run away from something he’s afraid to want.”
I feel it infiltrate my thoughts. It’s small and faint, but it’s enough to tear me apart like it never left. I bury my face in my hands, my wounds opening all over again.
It’s back.
The cruelest part of it all.
The hope.
F I F T E E N
The Fight
Empty is the only word I can think of to describe how I feel right now. As I lie in bed and listen to the silence floating around the house, I can’t escape the downward spiral. I went to bed at around 3:00 a.m. last night. To my great surprise, Kendrick never came home to lecture me about Haze. He texted me that we’d talk later and that he knows it wasn’t my fault.
He doesn’t suspect that anything happened between Haze and me, and he sees me as an innocent victim.
But I know I’m just as guilty as he is.
Speaking of Mr. Heartbreaker, I haven’t checked my phone since yesterday. I turned it off almost as soon as Haze left because I don’t want to know if he texted me.
But mostly… I don’t want to know if he didn’t.
After several minutes of my brain trying to convince my body to move, I get up from my bed, exit my room, and drag my feet down the stairs.