Page 53 of Little Paper Games
“Like hell, I don’t. I’ve had you pegged for years, Lincoln. Nothing but a stuck up, pathetic, perverted, wannabe athlete trying to figure out what the hell to do after he fucked up his knee in college.” Each point was punctuated by her finger jabbing my chest and pushing me backwards. I let her. It was that or haul her over my shoulder and drop her off anywhere but here. God, I wanted to shake the insolence and shrewish attitude out of her.
“You. Know. Nothing. You don’t think I care? You don’t think it hurts me to my core that Mitch is in the hospital?” My words dug that pain right back up. I watched her lower lip tremble, and her eyes fill with tears again. Good, she needed to break down, not hold it in like some pious monk. “You think it doesn’t fill me with fear? Jesus, Kenna. You forget that we grew up together! Your parents have been like surrogate parents to me my entire fucking life! I’m terrified. But more so, I know that if it were me, I’d hope that regardless of our animosity and our damned bickering, that you’d be at my door making sure I’m okay.”
I was out of breath after my tirade. I loomed over her and a part of me worried I’d stepped too far, but I watched as the fire dissipated in her eyes and the sadness took over. All those other emotions invaded her at once, clawing their way to the surface. As she started to wrap her arms around herself, I forbade it. Grabbing both wrists and wrapping them around me instead.
“I’m here.” That’s all I said as I pulled her in close. Over and over. Kissing the top of her head as she laid it against my chest and wept. Not those little girly tears you see in the movies. The true weeping. The knees going weak, falling to the floor, forget how to breathe, snot running down your face, kind of sobs that hurt your soul and somehow rebuilt it all at the same time.
“I’m here.” She broke in my arms; crying, screaming, and letting every emotion come out of her almost violently. Her nails dug into every bit of my skin she could reach, as she seemed to hold on for dear life. I felt my own cheeks wet with my own tears; partially from this small woman in my arms and the grief she bore, and partially from my own fear for her parents and my own. I felt so helpless, so out of control. There was literally nothing we could do.
“What… what if I never,” she paused to sniff. “What if I never get to say goodbye?”
Her sobs caught, syncopating her words to the sound of her grief. It broke my heart a second time, hearing her worry and fear spoken aloud. But she needed this. She needed to get it all out in order to face whatever may lie ahead.
“I’m here.” I literally didn’t know what else to say. It was the kind of crying that felt like it pulled your guts out and left you empty inside. But this wouldn’t leave her empty. It would leave her stronger, clearer.
I don’t know how much time passed before we came back to ourselves. Her cries had stopped, and even her sniffles were few and far between by the time she sat up and away from me. We’d collapsed on the floor at some point, just holding one another at the moment.
“I’m —”
“I swear, Kenna Clarke, if you apologize, I’ll smack you,” I chastised with a smirk. That got a smile out of her, at least.
“I was just going to say, I’m grateful you didn’t let me push you away.” Her voice was still quiet, but some of her strength was back; some of her fire and personality lit up her eyes again as she smiled.
“You and I both know you were about to apologize. But I’ll let it slide.” I nudged her shoulder with my shoulder as we both finished gathering ourselves.
“So, what now?” I asked after a long moment.
“How did you make your place look like that so fast?” she asked out of the blue. It was an odd question.
“You mean decorated?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah, but not just decorated, it’s like you made it into a completely different place!” She sounded astonished.
“Well, let me ask you this. Why didn’t you decorate this place? You’ve been here for years,” I countered.
“I did decorate,” she pushed back. Holy hell, she was serious.
“You callthisdecorating?! Kenna, you’ve got to be kidding me. It honestly looks like you still have boxes holed up somewhere in this place, not yet unpacked after years of living here.” I laughed until I saw the blush spread over her cheeks.
“Dear God, you have boxes still packed, don’t you?” My jaw dropped.
“I’ve only lived here three years, thank you very much,” she smarted off, though that smile still played around her lips.
“Almost four years, and I’ve lived here threemonthsand have been fully unpacked and decorated from the three-week mark!” I argued.
“That’s exactly my point! How?” she gestured wildly as she spoke.
“I just did it. It’s that simple,” I explained.
“Not to me, it’s not.”
“Well, that sounds like the perfect way to spend today, then.” I grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet alongside me.
“Excuse me?” She looked at me with wide eyes.
“We are going to finish unpacking and we are going to redecorate your place.” I smiled, proud of my idea.
“Uh, Jude, that’s not exactly a day project,” she laughed.
