Page 94 of The Devil Wears Tartan

“If I’d talked to you, if I’d told you I wanted to pay for you to continue your studies uninterrupted, would you really have accepted?”

I open my mouth to argue about how ridiculous this whole thing has become, but I clamp my jaw shut again without saying anything.

I just said no to someone who offered me the exact same thing, someone who cares about me and the dreams I’m pursuing, even if her phrasing wasn’t the best.

I would have said no to Catherine too. I would have told her I could handle it on my own. I would have done what she’s taught me.

“You wouldn’t have,” she answers for me, “because you are like me. You are strong, and right now, you’re letting yourself forget it.”

All those dozens of voices are still waging war in my head. Some sound like Catherine, some sound like my mom, some sound like Chris. Some even sound like my dad.

Lots sound like Moira.

“Catherine.”

My legs feel weak when I push myself up to stand, but I grip the railing for support and meet her eyes, the two of us on equal ground now.

“I’m not like you. You’ve just...you’ve made me like you.”

Her eyes narrow. “Careful, Kenzie.”

I shake my head. “I can’t keep being careful. Don’t you see? Don’t you see how cut off we both are? We’re not being strong when we act this way. We’re just being really good at playing make believe and shoving everything unpleasant under the bed. When is the last time you actually felt something about your family instead of—”

“Kenzie!”

She barks my name loud enough to make me jump, and her eyes flash with a fury I’ve never seen before. The echo of her shout is still reverberating through the stairwell when the door swings open again. Both our heads swivel to watch as Moira’s mom hovers in the doorway, glancing between the two of us.

“What is it, Margaret?” Catherine’s voice is piercing, almost cruel.

It’s not enough to faze Moira’s mom.

“Moira’s not here, is she?” she asks, patient and calm.

“No,” Catherine answers before I can say anything. “She left.”

“Hmm. She’s probably at the car.” Moira’s mom continues to stand there with her hand braced on the door’s push bar, her eyes darting to me. “Is everything okay here?”

“We’re fine, Margaret. There’s nothing for you to fix.”

I’ve never heard so much venom in Catherine’s tone before. It’s enough to make me glance at her with wide eyes. She’s glaring down the stairs like she wants to incinerate Moira’s mom with the power of her mind.

“Just checking, Catherine. Kenzie, you’re all right?”

I’m the farthest thing from all right, but I need to finish this conversation with Catherine. I nod a couple times, and Moira’s mom retreats into the lobby with a wave.

Catherine starts to say something, but I cut her off. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with me, and I have no idea what the hell to believe, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this, and all this shit you’ve taught me, this mold you’ve shaped me into...it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help you or me. The pain is still there for us both.”

Her chest is heaving, and I can see a flush creeping up over the neck of her silk blouse. “I told you to be careful, Kenzie. Don’t push me on this. You—”

I hold up a hand. “It’s not about you. It’s about...I think it’s finally about me.”

With my heart thundering and my head still pounding, I turn and take a couple steps down the stairs.

“I don’t give second chances, Kenzie.”

I pause, eyes on the door handle. My shoulders start to shake.

“You’re upset and hungover, but don’t be stupid.”

---