Page 50 of The Darkest Parts of Me

Islowly open my eyes, and it takes me about ten seconds to remember how I got here, and who is in my house. I scoot out of bed and pad gingerly across the wood floor to the door, placing my ear against it for any sounds on the other side. I hear him in the kitchen, and then I notice a sweet aroma drifting into my room.

He’s cooking. Of course he knows how to cook too. What doesn’t he know how to do?

I quickly change into some clean clothes, run a hand through my tangled hair, and pull it up into a bun before I carefully open the door. Renn immediately turns at the sound.

“Hey, good morning,” he says casually, like it’s completely normal for him to be here, making breakfast in my kitchen, like he’s done this a hundred times before. But then I notice he’s still wearing the clothes he wore yesterday, and that does something to me.

He never left. He was here all night.

“You stayed,” I say, softly. That’s all I can think about at the moment, and I’m trying to hold back the emotion building in my chest.

“Well, I did go home to grab Shy,” he says, nodding over to the couch where she nonchalantly lounges. “But yeah. I stayed.” We stand there for a beat or two.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

Without waiting for a response, I speedwalk to the bathroom to freshen up a bit and try to gather myself. I properly brush my hair, brush my teeth, and wash my face to try to liven up my complexion before I head back out to the kitchen. I find Renn sitting at the table with an assortment of breakfast food in front of him: some chopped fruit, perfectly fluffy pancakes, and a steamy, fresh cup of coffee next to the plate he laid out for me.

“Hungry?”

“Very.” I smile taking a seat across from him. We eat in silence for a minute, the only sound is our forks scratching against the plates, but I fidget in my seat because I feel like I need to say something. But what? Thanks for talking me through my emotional breakdown? I mean that was exactly what he did, but would it feel weird to say it aloud?

“This is delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I haven’t had a breakfast like this for a while. I usually get something to grab and go.”

“And you don't have anywhere to go this morning?” I ask, lighthearted but curious.

Renn grins. “Not at the moment, no.”

I give him a smirk and take a long sip of coffee, hoping it can somehow give me courage. Be brave. Let’s get this over with, I think to myself.

“So, about last night . . .” I pause when he looks at me with a serious expression. “That was probably the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.” And I mean it, but he knows there’s something more.

“But?” He leans forward.

“I’m just a little embarrassed. Really embarrassed, actually.”

He looks at me, confused.

“Why are you embarrassed?”

Is he really going to make me spell it out for him? I feel my face get hot.

“I mean . . . it was pretty pathetic. So, yeah, I’m embarrassed.”

Renn rests his elbows on the table, crossing his arms in front of himself. His gray eyes hold mine, and I don’t dare take my gaze away from him.

“That’s not what I saw.” His tone is so serious in that deep, luring voice. I can feel my face blush again, and the goosebumps rise on my skin. “I saw someone who is strong. Who is living day after day with a burden that they carry alone, and yet, you still go on. You’re still here. You’re trying.” I want to look away from his stormy eyes, but it’s impossible, so I just shake my head. “You are kind and genuine, even when you have every excuse not to be. That’s not someone who is weak or pathetic. I saw someone being the strongest a person could be, and that’s you, Maven.”

Tears blur my vision, but this time, they aren’t tears of sadness, rather, they’re a revelation. That he truly sees this side of me but doesn’t run away from it. That I’m not the horrible human being I see myself as. That he only sees me. But I need to tell him the whole story, and it’s not surprising that being with Renn helps the words easily come to my mind.

“Has anyone ever told you about the accident? The whole story?”

He shakes his head. “Only that you and your father were in the car together.”

I gulp and realize that the words I’m about to say are words I’ve never said out loud to anyone. Not even my mom.

“It was my fault that we crashed that night. I was driving. My dad was the passenger.”

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