Page 95 of Could Have Been Us
I’m completely spent. There is nothing left in my heart, but we still have one call to make. I’ve spoken to three of my brothers, who all handled it much better than I thought they would and offered their unwavering support.
Next is the call I’m dreading and still not ready to make.
“Do you want to call Grayson now?” Jack asks.
“No.”
“You can’t avoid it.”
I can’t, but I only have so much emotional bandwidth and I’d rather use the rest of it on Kinsley.
“I want to check on Kinsley,” I tell Jack. “It’s been almost an hour, and I don’t want her to think we don’t care.”
The disappointment is there, but he doesn’t push me. “All right, but we have to tell him tonight. If he finds out from anyone other than us, it would be unforgivable.”
“I know. We’ll tell him.”
Jack leans over and gives me a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever loved him as much as I do in this moment.
We head inside, and Jack motions me forward before moving to the kitchen. She’s still hidden away behind a shut door, and if anyone is going to be able to reach her emotionally, it’ll be me. I knock twice and wait for the door to open.
Her eyes are red, wet trails go down her face, and I imagine we match more than we’d like.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Would you like to watch a movie or . . . anything?”
I see her debate it a little and then she pulls her door open a bit more. I take the olive branch and head inside. Her room is the same as it was the last time I saw it with the exception of the box of letters on the ground.
My letters.
She sits on the edge of her bed. “My mother gave me these before she died.”
There are photos, letters, and small gifts I sent to Kinsley through the years spread out. It’s tangible proof that I thought of her, wondered, and worried. If I told her how often I looked at babies as they passed and imagined what she was like, I’m not sure she would believe me. Each time Amelia would do something, my mind would go to Kinsley and how I wished I could’ve been there for those moments.
It was hard at first, but eventually, I found a sense of peace when it came to her. As though the more I allowed her into my heart and mind, the more I knew what we did was right.
“I remember sending pretty much everything that is in that box.”
“You wrote to her, but never me.”
I exhale deeply. “I didn’t really know what to say. Misty was a friend, someone I loved and thought was a hero. She took care of something that was more precious to me than myself.”
Kinsley’s eyes meet mine. “You were young when you had me?”
“Yes, I was eighteen and Jack was twenty-two.” I move toward her bed but hesitate before asking, “May I sit?”
She nods. “I have a lot of questions.”
“I’m sure you do, and we’ll answer whatever you ask.”
Kinsley grabs a tattered blanket from her bed and pulls it onto her lap. It’s the blanket we gave Misty and Samuel to bring her home in. I didn’t know if they would throw it out, but I wanted Kinsley to have one thing from us. Something that maybe told her we were wrapping her in our love. Jack and I spent hours in the store, searching for something perfect. I wouldn’t allow myself to buy anything other than this one thing.
