Page 88 of Kandie Shoppe

His eyes are dead when he nods. Then — “Can I ask you a question?”

I nod, covering my trembling lips. People are passing by rubber necking us as they pass us on their way to the repast. I’m sure it’s not hard for them to figure out. I took two showers but not even that, nor my vanilla-rose is going to hide the fact I’ve been drinking all night, didn’t sleep, and am still tipsy at my boyfriend’s mom funeral.

“What started all this drinking with you? I know you went to therapy. You were drinking that first night we hooked up, but none the whole two weeks I was home. What happened after I left?”

In that moment, I know he wants me to blame him like he said his mom did his dad for not wanting to marry her at first. Hezekiah just wanted to protect her from the Shelbys. He loved Marlene. She just didn’t realize it until too late.

“That’s water under the bridge, U. Leave the past in the past.” I shrug. “Does it even matter? I came to your mom’s funeral fucked up. You hate me now.”

Turning, I get the door open before his heavy hand slams it back closed.

“No, the fuck you don’t. You don’t get to do that–to put it on me. I don’t hate you. I’m trying to understand, wildcat,” he seethes behind me, sounding torn, angry, and betrayed. Then makes me face him again. “Tell me what happened to you. Why didn’t you have anyone else after me? Why were you waitingon me when you thought I didn’t give a fuck about you? Did someone hurt you?” He sounds so broken.

Every word tears me apart. Shreds me into a thousand pieces. My head drops on the arm blocking me and part of me knows I could lie, but I’ve never been a coward. Part of me knows telling him would free us from this thing between us for good. He’d finally know.

“A couple months after you were gone, after I’d given your mom the letters she never sent. I was desperate to talk to you and I knew, I knew she knew how to reach you.” I shake my head, unable to meet his stare.

“Why were you so desperate, Kandie?” Craning up my head, I look into the anguish of his beautiful blue eyes. I swallow. He stills.

“Why were you so desperate to talk to me?” He asks, like he’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

I can’t make myself say it.

“You were pregnant?” He sounds like the words have been punched out of him.

I nod, reaching up to touch his hard, flexing jaw. I drop my hand before I touch him.

“Did you want our baby?” he asks, his eyes hardening, watching my face.

“I was scared, U. I was a messed-up kid, living in a dollhouse behind my granny’s house,” I hedge, remembering the relief I felt when I finally had the procedure done.

“Okay,” he says, but I know he doesn’t.

“Later, I had complications. I got really depressed — started taking a little nip to get through the day.” I shrug like it wasn’t the scariest time of my life.

“So when you were desperate, you went to my mom. She knew about this. Helped you.” The air between us is palpable with unspent rage.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he all but roars in rage, grabbing his head.

“She did it to protect you,” I try, but he whirls on me.

“Who the fuck was protecting you? She took that from me. Took our kid from me and for what? To keep me from being a Shelby? That’s want I am. Hezekiah Shelby’s son. A hero who gave his life for some kids being abused. I’m his son. She should have had more faith in me. So should you.” He turns red-rimmed eyes on me, his jaw working like he’s grinding glass.

I want to step back from the wrath pouring off him, but I have nowhere to go with Pa’s truck behind me and his mountainous form towering over me.

“I tried?—”

“Fuck. You. I’ve been here two years and you ain’t said shit.” He steps back, fury and hatred bleeding off him in waves.

“U, I’m sorry?—”

“Stay the fuck out of my life. I’ve dead motherfuckers for less, lady.” With that, he pivots, stalking away from me toward his F-250.

I stand there watching him leave after he slams into his truck. Relief coalesces with a macabre mixture of grief.

“He deserves to know,” I whisper to the ghosts in the cemetery as I stand alone.

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