Page 68 of Absolution

Eighteen

Kerry

He has pushed the large sliding door to the side and stands there, tall, magnificent, his broad back to me, staring out into the dark. In the far distance the lights from the bridge break the monotony of the darkness. The breeze ruffles his black tresses. My heart jolts when he turns to me. I can’t believe I still find him so beautiful despite everything he’s done to me.

“Hi,” he says in a hushed voice. “Thank you.”

I stare at him a moment longer, still unable to process what I’m seeing, then I force myself out of my reverie. “For what?” I busy myself with some plates, gathering them, piling them along with the knives and forks, every part of me hyper aware of his presence.

He shifts and pushes his fingers through his hair. It’s shorter than when I last saw him. “For allowing me to spend time with her.”

I drop the plates with a slam, that makes us both jump. “I thought you were dead! All this time—” My eyes fill with tears and I have to look away, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I—” I swallow and try to pick up the plates again, but my hands shake too much. “You could have just fucking let me know. How long have you been back?”

He hesitates, takes a step toward me, stops. “A while.”

“What’s a while?” Anger rises in me. I should be happy. He’s alive. Or should I? Does it start again? “Did you follow me?”

“Ker, honestly—”

“What do you want from me? Honesty? What a joke. You’ve done nothing but fool me since the first moment we met! How the fuck could you not let me know you were alive, you piece of shit?”

“It hasn’t all been a lie—”

“Bullshit!”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ hell no. Not everything was a lie, Ker.”

I grimace and sit. He sets himself opposite me at the table. I can’t even believe there’s anything to discuss. “You played pretend right from the start, Christian.”

“You already know this part, Kerry. Are we really gonna go through this shit again?”

I jerk as his hand shoots out and grips around my forearm. His touch is electric. I can’t believe how he can touch me like that. I wrench out of his hold and massage my skin where his fingers made contact.

“Shut up,” I snarl.

“No,” he says. “I won’t shut up. No matter how fucking wrong it was, it was still real between us, and you know it.”

I’m so cold. I shiver despite the warm night and I stand abruptly to close the sliding door, feeling his eyes on me as I move. I sit back down on the chair again and pull up my knees, hugging them, my jaw so clenched it hurts.

“Y… ou h… urt me,” I manage to croak.

A look of concern crosses his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so c—cold.” I hug my legs even tighter and rock back and forth. And I really am. I’m frozen deep into my marrow. I can’t control my shuddering. The shock from seeing him before me again suddenly rolling over me with its full force.

“I’ll get you a blanket, hang on.” He stands and disappears before I can even say something. I still can’t move an inch as he comes back with my blanket, draping it around my shoulders, making sure it stays on before he goes back to his spot. “Better?”

I stare at a piece of macaroni, lying alone on Cece’s side of the table. You hurt me. Nothing can make that better.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

My eyes look up to meet his. He’s looking straight back at me, and at the same time I get the feeling he’s having a hard time holding my gaze, that it’s his sheer willpower that makes him meet my pain.

“About what?” I ask, my voice hoarse. Even though I know.

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