Page 37 of Rebel

I want to live a life she would be proud of. I want to live for her and my mom. Both of their lives were cut short, and they fought until the end, clinging to the beauty and hope of this world, wanting just one more day. They wanted to experience everything.

The night she died, my mother told me she had regrets for all the things she never did. I don’t want to die like that. I want no regrets when I join them.

Is it selfish, though, to live when they are both gone?

Is it selfish to be happy when all they felt was pain?

She needed me at the end, and I wasn’t there. I can’t forget or forgive that, but can you move on without either? I don’t know, and part of me doesn’t want to find out. Not yet. But I know I’ll never be able to without the truth.

“Mind if I join you?” The voice startles me from my contemplation, and I swing my head around to meet Kolton’s wary eyes. The moonlight caresses one side of his face, plunging the other into darkness, and for a moment, I just stare. With his shoulders rounded, he looks so beautifully lost.

Kolton Haynes is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen, but the smile that usually enhances his beauty is nowhere in sight, and instead, when he steps into the light, all I see in his eyes is longing and pain.

A pain I feel deep in my own soul.

Nodding silently, I move over so we don’t touch as he sits. His eyes flare, noticing the movement, and something akin to anger glimmers in those depths before he releases me from his gaze and sits. I look back at the moon as the inches of space separating us feel like miles.

Where Kolton is a roaring flame, filled with life and passion, I’m the opposite—a person of singular intent and purpose—but when his eyes clash with mine, something links us together.

A shared understanding, but of what, I don’t know.

The air crackles with tension, and for a moment, my eyes drop to his plump lips as I wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him. Kolton doesn’t like to be touched, so he sure as fuck wouldn’t want me to kiss him. It was just a momentary weakness, needing comfort you find in another person.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway, as the silence stretches on uncomfortably between us, each minute another drop in the bucket of overflowing, unsaid words. I have to say something and break this tension. My soul tells me to strike now to learn the truth, since he’s vulnerable, but my mouth opens, and the words don’t come out.

Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought I was. Instead, something else slips out, something I never intended to say.

“They told me you don’t like to be touched. I’m so sorry. I won’t touch you anymore, okay?”

For a moment, I want to take the words back, since Chase mentioned it in confidence, but part of me wants to understand.

“Don’t,” he rasps, not meeting my eyes.

I jerk at the sudden word, searching his face for answers. “Don’t?” I prompt, unsure.

His jaw works as if he’s debating whether or not to respond, and I find myself holding my breath.

“Don’t stop touching me.” His dark eyes meet mine. “Don’t treat me differently, okay?”

“Uh, okay.” I nod, meeting his gaze and not knowing what to say. I should dig for the truth, something I can use, but the agony in his eyes prevents me from doing it. I can’t hurt Kolton like that.

I don’t know what happened to Kolton Haynes to make him hate being touched so much, maybe I never will, but if he says he doesn’t want me to stop, then I won’t.

Don’t forget why you’re here, the little voice whispers, but I push it away, knowing there is no room for it right now. He must sense my unasked question, though, because after a minute or two of just staring at each other, his deep voice comes again.

“I have an older sister,” he begins, looking out at the view. “She and her friends were cruel.” He pauses, struggling for words.

“Kolton.” I reach for him, laying my hand on his arm, and he doesn’t jump or flinch. “You don’t have to tell me.”

It’s clearly a painful secret I could use against him, but could I really?

God, I fucking hate myself right now.

“I want to.” He swallows, his gaze swinging to me. “I want you to know, Beck.”

“Why?” I ask, searching his gaze for the truth.

“Because I want to touch you, to kiss you . . . I want what the others have with you no matter how small it might be, but I can’t let you if you don’t know the truth beforehand. If you find out after and then you don’t want me anymore, I don’t think I could survive it.”

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