Page 40 of The Weight Of Falling
“It’s why you were so wrecked after the movie,” Joel says, his voice low but unflinching. “You feel everything too deeply. You carry other people’s pain like it’s your own.”
His words hit harder than I want to admit. Funnily enough, my mom says the same thing, insisting that I empathize with people to an unhealthy degree, soaking up their emotions until I’m drowning in them. She calls it both my greatest gift and my biggest flaw. I always thought it strange how two opposing truths can live side by side.
When I glance up, Joel’s expression has shifted. The frustration is still there, but beneath it flickers something almost haunted. He looks like he knows exactly what it costs to feel thisway. Maybe because he’s carrying his own weight that he never lets anyone touch.
And then it’s like a shutter comes down over his face, concealing all his emotions. His eyes pin me, dark and flat and cold. “I told you I don’t do relationships.”
“I know you don’t,” I reply steadily. “You made that very clear. And even if you did, I know I’m not your type.”
He frowns. “I don’t have a type.”
“That’s what you told Bobby. But you do.”
A flicker of wariness passes over his features. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t date blondes,” I tell him simply.
It’s true. Kate had pointed it out once in passing, and after that, I started noticing it myself. Brunettes, redheads, women with dark hair of every shade, but never, ever blondes like me.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. The silence hurts more than any answer could.
“Look, I know this is all my fault,” I say quietly. “I’m the one who set this mess in motion. When I heard you’d had two bookings cancelled, I—”
Something shifts again in his expression.
I suck in a breath. “Wait. Were there more cancelations?”
His jaw flexes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s a yes then.” Dismay surges through me. “I can’t believe people can be so petty. This is your reputation. Your business. It’s not fair.”
Something terrible flashes in his eyes. “Life isn’t fair, Kenzie,” he snaps. “Or have you been so sheltered that this is the first time you’re realizing it?”
I flinch, absorbing the blow. The moment of silence between us feels endless and fills every corner of the room.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough with remorse. He briefly touches my arm, before withdrawing his hand. “That was unfair and cruel. And I never want to be cruel to you.”
“Maybe I am sheltered,” I concede, “but that doesn’t stop me from caring about people, especially when they’ve been wronged.”
There’s a grim edge to his tone. “I told you; I don’t care what people think of me.”
“So you’ve said. But what about Kate?”
He stills. “What about Kate?”
My stomach knots, but I don’t back down. “Do you care what people think of her? Because whether you like it or not, in some people’s eyes, she’s guilty by association. Tess told me clients have cancelled on her too.”
I glimpse the impact of my words. Joel has always had a soft spot for Kate. I used to think it meant he had a thing for her. But now, looking at him, I realize it’s not that at all. He knows something of her past. Maybe not all of it, but enough to know how much damage was done.
Joel might be many things—guarded, distant, impossible to read most of the time—but when it comes to Kate, he’s protective to a fault.
“I didn’t know about her cancelations,” he tells me in a low voice.
His phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, glances at the screen, and grimaces. Then he stabs the Ignore button and puts the phone away, tension pumping off him.
“Farah,” he says with a sigh, in response to my questioning look. “She left me a voicemail this morning.”
“You don’t have to tell me—”
