Chapter Sixteen
Kai
“That’s because I knew you would be,” I said, marveling at the unexpected turn of this conversation. I used to whisper those exact words to her while she slept, but I was pretty sure she didn’t remember because she’d never brought it up.
But maybe this was her way of remembering, subconsciously.
“I felt like half of a person. Especially after Miles ditched me. I think my anger—at myself, at him, at the world—fueled me on.” She refrained from saying she was mad at me, but after her admission the other night, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d been included in that list. She’d said I’d left her, too, when all I’d fucking wanted to do was stay. I’d thought I’d been giving her what she wanted, what she needed.
She took a deep breath. “By the time I got to college, I felt like I needed to prove something.”
“Prove what?” I sat up a bit to give her my full attention but made sure not to break her hold on my hand. It felt too good having our fingers knotted together.
“That I was whole. That I was a survivor.” She clenched her teeth. “That I could get over Miles.”
I tucked a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. “Did it work?”
“For a while.” She absently ran her finger over my thigh, not realizing her touch was making blood rush to a region I was desperately trying not to focus on at the moment. “I loved the idea that nobody knew who I was. My friends didn’t know that I had suffered a brain injury and almost died. Or that my boyfriend had left me during my recovery.”
“It was that way for me in Amsterdam, too. Like it was a fresh start,” I said, tracing a pattern on her palm with my thumb. “Almost no one knew what a fuckup I’d been.”
Her jaw fell open. “I never knew you felt that way. I mean, you got in trouble, sure. But you were always so damn cool about it—like junk just bounced off of you.”
“That’s because it always has.” I shrugged. “But I can’t be that person anymore. I need to figure out what matters to me. What the hell I’m doing with my life.”
I adjusted myself on the bed while she studied me. “My parents are disappointed in me. Thank God Dakota impresses them on a daily basis.”
“She’s pretty darn good at impressing people,” she said, thinking it over. It was probably one of the reasons she was afraid to let Dakota down. It was definitely hard measuring up against her. “I guess I always thought you’d do something with music.”
“So did I, but it’s not really working out so well for me,” I said. “And that sucks, because nothing ever interested me until I picked up my first instrument, that’s for sure.”
“Tell me how that felt.” Her eyes were tender, supportive.
“It felt like it was the one thing missing in my life,” I said, holding her gaze. “Very few things in life feel that way.”
She closed her eyes as if she was processing my words. Her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks and I wished I could bend down and kiss her right then. If only just to tell her how much I liked confiding in her.
“The problem is that I didn’t know how to channel it. Which direction to go. How to make money, even. So I got lazy, let stuff slide,” I said. “Sure, my parents are loaded, but I know they work their asses off. And here I was just cruising through life, hoping that something would keep me grounded.”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said, adjusting her fingers over mine so that they fit snugly together again. “You’ll figure it out. But do you think . . .”
She looked uncertain and I didn’t know what she was about to say until I saw her eyes dart quickly to my dresser and away.
“You’re going to ask me if pot smoking has gotten in the way? Seriously, Rach?”
“Don’t get all pissy with me, dickhead,” she said. “It’s a valid question. I thought we had a deal.”
“You told me to come see you if I had the urge to smoke a whole bowl of weed.” She rolled her eyes. “And I certainly have not. I’ve been cutting down . . . on my own. Just a puff here or there.”
“And it has nothing to do with a bunch of people who care about you getting on your case about it?”
“Probably.” If she kept harping on it, I was close to kicking her cute little ass out of my room. “Look, I get it, but things don’t change overnight.”
She nodded, remorse in her eyes.
“So how about you?” I asked. “You got stuff figured out yet?”
“Obviously not. I’ve been . . . hiding, haven’t I?” she said. “And after awhile hiding gets kind of . . . lonely.” She looked deeply into my eyes. It made me wonder if she could spot my overwhelming feelings for her inside of them.