Page 41 of Wilde's End
“Sorry I brought up your exes. It was a dick move.”
Some of his eagerness fades. “Yeah. I get it.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
“Is it really that bad that I want to find someone?” he asks, thumb stroking over the wooden doorframe. We both watch as his nail digs an easy groove into the soft timber.
Is it so bad? Objectively, I guess the answer to that from most people would be no. Seeing him hurt again and again is the part I have an issue with.
“It’s not you wanting to settle down that’s the problem. It’s the way you don’t care who it’s with. You deserve someone who’s worthy of you, Kenny. I don’t say this enough, but you’re a cool guy.”
His lips try to pull into a smile, but there’s still something getting to him. “Why don’t we make a deal, then? If I give up dating for like … six months, you’re not allowed to message Sutton in that time either.”
That deal catches me off guard, mostly because Sutton has been the last thing on my mind. “Ah … okay.”
“I mean it. Even if he messages you, don’t respond. Block him if you have to. I’m not the only one who deserves better.”
Now I’m following. If I don’t reply, Sutton will move on. Even telling him to fuck off keeps him interested because that’s exactly how messed up our relationship is. The trade-off is having Kennedy protect himself. Maybe if the three of us focus on nothing else but this place for six months, we’ll come out the other side less of a mess than we are now.
“Fine. Deal. No contact.”
His hope is hesitant but there. “This will be good for us.”
“Now we have to find a way to get through to Hart.”
Kennedy widens his eyes doubtfully as he digs further into the wood. “Sometimes I think he enjoys being miserable.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s forgotten how to be anything else.”
“That can change, can’t it?”
“Of course,” I lie, because if there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s for Kennedy to lose that eternal optimism. Plus, I want to believe it too.
There’s the sound of a car outside, and I sigh and ease myself to my feet. “Speak of the devil.”
“He’s hardly the devil.”
I pat Kennedy’s shoulder on the way past. “He’s your twin. You have to say that.”
We get to the front door, and I’m expecting Hart to be waiting, attitude radiating from him like always, but our car’s not in sight.
I glance back at Kennedy. “You heard a car, right?”
“I thought I did.”
I’m embarrassed by how eager I am when I turn the other way, expecting to see Wilde parked on the edge of the forest. He’s not there either.
Sunset has already started, and night is creeping in, casting long shadows over the town. It might be a ghost town by name and was slightly creepy when we first got here, but I’ve seen no evidence of actual ghosts. Is it possible Kennedy and I both just hallucinated the same thing at the same time?
“Weird …”
“Maybe Hart forgot something,” I suggest.
Kennedy pulls his phone out to check it. “I’ve got service, I’ll call him.”
Then he stays really still so he doesn’t lose reception as he clicks on Hart’s number and puts the phone on speaker.
“What?” he answers.
