Page 15 of Mending Scars

Dr. Lowell wrote something else before looking up at me. “Could you elaborate on that?”

Glancing uneasily at Kamden, I rubbed my sweaty palms against my pants. He gave me a small, yet reassuring smile.

You’re doing this for him—to help him heal. Suck it up.

I took a deep breath, but my lungs felt constricted. I blew it out shakily. “Yeah, um, maybe my twin wouldn’t have molested me for most of my life. He might have gotten the help he needed, and none of this would’ve happened. He wouldn’t be dead right now. Kamden and I wouldn’t be sitting here dealing with this bullshit, and I wouldn’t be a fucked up mess.”

I hadn’t noticed I had balled my fists until my palms hurt from my nails digging into them. When I loosened my grip, my hands trembled and my head pulsed again. I felt like the room was closing in on me.

Shit, don’t panic. Calm down. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

I shut my eyes as a wave of nausea washed over me.

Don’t throw up, don’t throw up.

Kamden grabbed my hand. His tone was laced with worry as he questioned, “Ky, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

I gripped his hand back as I took several slow breaths to quell my anxiety. My voice cracked as I spoke, “I’m fine.”

That was reassuring.

When I opened my eyes, his stormy blue ones scanned over my face with concern. “Are you sure?”

My eyes stung as I battled the tears that wanted to form. I wanted to tell Kamden about the texts, tell him that I hated this and make him take me away from here and never bring me back. But I didn’t. Instead, I lied, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kamden looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press me further. Dr. Lowell didn’t either. Maybe she knew I wasn’t going to talk anymore. And I didn’t—I stayed silent for the rest of the therapy session, fighting an impending breakdown.

I knew something was wrong with Kaiya as soon as she walked into the studio. Her body was tense and her face wasn’t lit up by that beautiful smile like when she normally saw me.

She forced a smile when our eyes met, but I knew my Warrior—something was off. I walked toward her, and we met in the middle of the room. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped her bag and fell into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her head against my chest. Her hands gripped the back of my muscle shirt as she hugged me tightly.

I cupped her face in my hands and forced her to look up at me. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Her eyes were puffy and red—she’d been crying. Anger and worry built up inside me, and I wanted to punch something, preferably whoever was the cause.

“I had a bad day.” Her voice was strained, like she wanted to cry again, but was holding back.

I stroked her cheeks. “Tell me what happened.”

Kaiya sighed and proceeded to tell me about therapy with Kamden and the text she’d gotten. My anger amped up at the thought of someone threatening her, especially when there was nothing I could do about it. “Let me see your phone,” I seethed, clenching my fists as I tried to remain calm.

Kaiya pulled back to dig through her purse before taking out her phone. After she handed it to me, I clicked the text icon and pulled up the messages from the unknown number.

After reading the messages several times, I gave Kaiya back her cell.

“What should we do?” she asked.

Blowing out a breath of frustration, I roughly ran a hand through my hair.

Fuck.

I didn’t know what to do, and Kaiya needed me.

Some fucking boyfriend you are.

When I didn’t answer, she continued, “What about the police?”

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