The bar was hopping later that evening, bursting at the seams with people, thanks to my little half monty the night before, but I wasn’t into it. Holding Kiera in my bed was the only thing on my mind. Last night might have been the last time that happened. It made me a little sad to think about it. I felt like a gong was going off in my brain—a constant reminder of Kiera and Denny reuniting. It almost made me want to ask Denny to leave again. Or make him leave. I couldn’t though; he wasn’t to blame for any of this. I’d created this mess by allowing it to happen. I never should have wanted something that wasn’t mine.
A couple of days later, I picked up Kiera from school and we headed over to our favorite place in a park nearby. It was near the school, within walking distance, and we came here sometimes when we wanted to enjoy the day, and nature, and each other. The first time I’d come across Kiera here, I’d accused her of stalking me, since I stopped here to exercise sometimes when I went for a run. We’d laughed, joked around, and had nearly kissed that day. We seemed to be nearly kissing a lot lately. Being around her was incredible, but difficult too. Pain and pleasure twisted together so thoroughly that it was sometimes hard to separate the two.
With an espresso in one hand, I grabbed a blanket from my trunk with the other. It was sunny out, but crisp and cold. Winter was fast approaching. Kiera was bundled up in a puffy purple jacket, but her nose was still pink. I had the oddest desire to rub my nose against hers—pink against pink—but I didn’t know if that would be crossing a line or not, so I didn’t.
We found a spot to lay the blanket down, near a field where a few people were running around, trying to stay warm. Setting my coffee in the grass, I snapped the blanket, then let it float to the ground. Careful to not spill her own coffee, Kiera settled onto her hip, then smiled up at me. The joy on her face stole my breath. Even though Denny was back, Kiera beamed at me whenever she saw me. And maybe I was wishing it to be true, but…she didn’t seem to be smiling as widely for Denny. Or as often. In fact, they didn’t seem to be spending much time together at all. Just the other day, Denny had skipped out on Kiera right before they were supposed to go see a movie together—it was at least the second time he had left her dateless. She’d been mad at him for it, but then she’d invited me to go with her instead, and we’d had a great night together. I tried not to feel bad about Denny’s dwindling connection with her. Or happy either. Their relationship was separate from ours, or so I convinced myself. I would be whatever Kiera needed me to be.
We sipped our coffees in a comfortable silence. As much as the liquid coursing down my throat warmed me, it was nothing compared to sitting beside Kiera. She heated me from the very center of my core. Thawed cold, dark places that I hadn’t even been aware of before. Just being around her made everything better.
When our drinks were finished, we put the empty cups on the grass, and I grabbed her fingers. They were still warm from holding her hot drink. Kiera interrupted the quiet with a question that I was surprised to hear her ask. “That song the other weekend, the kind of intense one…it’s not really about a woman, is it?”
I knew exactly what song she was referring to. It was called “I Know,” and like she’d said, I’d played it a while back. The song was about a woman in an abusive relationship. Hiding behind that lie was as close to my past as I could get. I hadn’t realized she’d been listening to the words so intently, and I hadn’t known that she’d have enough insight into me that she’d be able to see right through the lyrics. How the hell did she know?
Seeing the unasked question on my face, she supplied an answer, one I hadn’t considered. “Denny. He told me what happened, while he was staying with your family. The song was about you, wasn’t it? You and your dad?”
I turned away from her and gazed out over the park. Denny. I should have guessed that he would tell her. It kind of hurt that he’d told her something so private, but on the other hand, I was kind of glad she knew. I didn’t want to talk about it though. I nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she quietly asked.
“No.” I didn’t ever want to talk about it. There was no point in even thinking about it, much less discussing it. It was what it was.
“Will you anyway?” she asked, pain and compassion in her voice.
With a sniff, I looked down at the grass. Grabbing a blade, I twirled it in my fingers. I kind of felt like that ribbon of grass, being spun around against my will. What would the grass say, if it could talk? Do what you will with me, I’m already torn open.