Page 68 of Our Secrets and Scars

“Want some help?”

I nod, relieved but also ashamed. Because I hate it when Kinsley is reminded of the man I used to be. Although I believe her when she assures me that she’s never judged me for it, the last thing I want is for her to think of me locked in a cell somewhere in prison overalls.

I wish that man never existed.

And if I could, I’d go back and change every one of my decisions that led to my arrest. Not only because I’d never have gone to prison, but because I wouldn’t now be harboring secrets that have the power to destroy us.

We could just be together, easy, and weightless. No secrets holding us down, pulling us back, or threatening to drown us if ever they came to light.

“You like chicken?” she asks, blissfully ignorant of the things in my head.

I nod mutely.

“You should get the parmigiana. It’s good.”

“Is that what you’re getting?”

“Yeah.” She grins. “Wanna share a side of garlic bread?”

It’s such a simple question, but my entire soul sparkles as if she’d just told me that she loves me for the very first time. Because this time last week, she didn’t want anything to do with me. And now, after spending the night asleep in my arms and all day wrapped around me in my bed, she’s asking if I want to share garlic bread.

I don’t even like garlic bread, but I’d eat a ton of it if I could share it with her.

“Sounds good.”

She blushes, and though neither of us acknowledges it, I know the moment means just as much to her as it does to me.

“Okay,” Isla says, “can we talk about how cute you guys are for a minute?”

“Oh, shut up.” Kinsley balls up a napkin and throws it at her friend, but she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“When did this even happen?” Isla looks between the two of us. “Last thing I knew, you were crying because you thought he’d told you to leave him alone.”

I shoot Kinsley a curious look, and her cheeks flame red.

“You’d know if I ever saw you for longer than the five minutes it takes you to grab new clothes from our room,” she answers.

Isla’s face falls, and Harriet’s gaze drops to her hands as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Damn, Violet. Don’t be like that.”

“My name isn’t Violet anymore,” she says softly. “It’s Kinsley.”

“What?”

Kinsley’s voice is gentle and unconfrontational, but her hurt is audible. I know how much Isla’s friendship means to her, and even though she hasn’t talked about it, I know that she misses her. “You’ve missed a lot.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You haven’t really been around recently, babe. It’s hard to tell you things when the only time we spend together, you ditch me to make out with your girlfriend instead. No offense,” she adds for Harriet’s benefit.

“None taken.” Harriet gives a small smile in gratitude but keeps her gaze fixed on her hands as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

Me, though, I’m so fucking proud of my girl for finally sticking up for herself.

“I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much,” Isla says defensively, but I notice the pinkness of her ears and the way she rubs her hands together nervously. And I recognize her aloofness for what it is. She’s scared of losing Kinsley, and her stiff demeanor is simply an attempt at self-preservation. “I was just spending time with my girlfriend. Is that really so bad?”

“No,” Kinsley says gently, reaching across the table to take Isla’s hand. I guess she can read her friend as well as I can. “No, it’s not bad at all. I’m not asking you to give up time with Harriet for me. It’s just shitty to be invited places, thinking that I’ll be having fun with my best friend, only to be left in a corner to spend the night on my own.”

Isla drops her head in shame, her cold façade melting away. “I don’t know what to say.”

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