“Um…” Seth coughs into his hand. “I think I’m going to go

check out what’s taking room service so long.” He squeezes past

Kayden, leaving the door wide open.

Kayden doesn’t budge. He keeps looking at me with this

perplexed, intense look on his face, like he’s afraid to cross the

threshold. The moment keeps building, bricks stacking on bricks,

as we just look at each other, afraid to move, to breathe, to be the

one to speak first.

I sit up, my hair blowing in the wind. “You can come in,” I say

and my voice nearly gets carried away in the wind and knocks the

bricks to the ground in a pile of dust.

He doesn’t disconnect our gaze as he bends his knee and

steps one foot into the room. He repeats the movement with the

other foot and then shuts the door. The wind ceases and the

curtain is closed so the room is mostly dark.

“I got your message,” he says, shocking me with his

bluntness.

“Oh…” My throat feels like it’s closing as I kneel up onto the

bed, bringing a pillow to my lap to hug it. “Kayden, where have

you been all night? Were you with your therapist?”

A breath eases from his lips as he rakes his hands through

his hair, shifting his gaze to the wall just over my shoulder. “I’m

sorry, but I couldn’t do it with you there.”

“Did you… did you tell him about your dad?” I ask and he

just stares at me, with a strange look on his face, like he’s really

studying me. I don’t know if it means he told him or not. I don’t

know what any of this means. I move my feet to the floor and

stand, tipping my chin up to meet his eyes. “Kayden, you need to

tell someone… I thought we… I thought we had a deal.”

He gives me a small smile and then threads his fingers

through mine. His hands are as icy as breeze outside the room. “I

did tell someone. I just didn’t want you there when I was giving…

all the gory details.”

My shoulders jolt upward as I imagine him on the floor

again. “But you did tell someone? Really?”

He nods and forces the lump down his throat with a hard

swallow. “I wasn’t lying in the text. I went to talk to my therapist

and I told him.”

“And?” I’m not sure what the right question is or if one exists.

I feel like I should just let him tell me what he wants to.

He sighs and then lines form on his forehead as he presses a

hand to his chest, massaging it over his heart. “And it feels kind of good.”

I study his expression and realize that his eyes look a bit

greener, his shoulders a little less stiff, like some of the darkness he keeps bottled inside has reduced and lightened. “What did your

therapist say for you to do?”

He stares off into space, his hand coming up to my face. He

starts twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers and I don’t

think he’s even aware he’s doing it. “He said to think about

pressing charges.”

“And are you going to?”

“Think about it?”

“No, press them.”

“I’m still thinking,” he mutters. He unravels my hair from his

finger and looks at me with depth in his eyes. “I want to, but it’s

hard. I just need some time,” he murmurs, confused. “I really wish I

had some help… What I really wish is that my brothers would be

on my side, at least so I don’t look like a complete liar.”

“Maybe they will be,” I say encouragingly. “You said it was

the same for them, right? Maybe once they see you do it they’ll

want to stand up to him too.”

He shakes his head, his gaze never wavering from mine.

“Nah, Tyler’s a crackhead alcoholic so I’d have to wait for him to

sober up first, and Dylan’s been missing for forever. Well, missing

in the sense that he won’t speak to anyone in the family.”

“Do you know where he is?” I ask, sketching my finger below

his eye and along the red streaks on his skin. He’s been crying. I

can feel the dried tears.

He shrugs, moving my hand to his mouth and closing his

eyes. He places a tantalizing kiss on my palm. “I’ve never tried to

find him.” He opens his eyes and tilts his head. “Maybe though… I

could try.”

I nod, leap to my feet, and wrap my arms around his waist

without any hesitation. “You should. At least I think you should.”

He kisses the top of my head and inhales my scent. “I know

you do. I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” He sweeps his lips

across my head again, then slants his face to the side and relocates

his lips to my temple. He kisses it delicately before traveling south to my cheek and then my jawline, sucking on my skin. My shoulder

shudders upward as his breath feathers against my neck. He kisses

me there too, sliding his tongue out and giving my skin a little

nick.

“Thank you,” he whispers against my neck as his arms

encompass my waist. His fingers press into my back as he steers

me closer, aligning our bodies.

I try to tip my head to the side to look at him, but one of his

hands cups the side of my neck and he secures me in place. “For

what?” I breathe as he strokes my collarbone with his lips, lightly

grazing his teeth along the skin.

“For saying it.” His voice is unguarded and he keeps

peppering me with kisses all the way down my shoulder. I have on

a tank top and some pajama bottoms and my skin is sensitive to

his hungry touch.

“It was the truth.” The last part comes out as more of a

whimper as he slides the strap of my top down while his other

hand glides up the front of my shirt, his cold skin mixing with the

heat I’m radiating.

He starts backing me up to the bed with his hand resting on

the outside of my bra. When the backs of my legs hit the edge of

the bed, he lifts me up by the waist and lays me down on the bed.

He draws back for a minute, staring down at me and I feel naked

under his penetrating gaze. But I’m not nervous. I know he won’t

hurt me. And I think I know that deep down, even if he can’t say it,

he loves me.

He opens his mouth to speak and I hold my breath in

anticipation. “You’re beautiful. And amazing.”

My cheeks grow warm at his compliment and I stuff down

the harrowing connection my memories have to the word

“beautiful,” because the one and only guy who’s ever said it to me

is Caleb. “Kayden, no I’m not. I’m just an average girl and I’m

happy with that.”

Shaking his head, he traces his finger down the arch of my

neck. “No, you’re way beyond average, Callie.”

I squirm under his gushing. “I’m not that great.”