Page 71 of Kingston
“Are you okay?” Her head tilts to the side as she studies me.
There’s too much between us unspoken. I can’t handle anything more right now, so I do what I do best. I deny there’s a problem. “I’m good. Just gotta get this done.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
ELLIOT
A few hours later,I wake up feeling like shit—both physically, because of my concussed head, and emotionally, mentally, or whatever you want to call it. I didn’t speak up when Kingston said I should tell him if someone was bothering me. Do I tell him about Bridger not relaying information and shoving me during the first game? The notes? God, and I haven’t even had a second to process the craziness of last night. Someone shut me in that closet, shoved me to the ground, and yanked my hair. And I swear someone hit me with something. Because the last thing I remember was being on my feet with my hand on the knob to the front door. I was about to escape that nightmare.
Rolling over in Kingston’s bed, I inhale deeply and let out a moan that has nothing to do with the pounding in my head and everything to do with the bedding smelling like him. I breathe in the scent so clearly Kingston’s, like pine and freshly fallen snow—crisp and clean. The only thing better would be taking a hit of his scent directly from the source.
I lie there for a moment, finally realizing that the scent of him is so potent because the heady top notes of his body wash are wafting from the bathroom along with an abundance of steam.
Clamping my eyes shut, I unsuccessfully attempt to put the thought of him in there out of my head, but the sound of the water splashing is like an open invitation to join him. Or maybe he’s simply keeping an eye on me. Either way, it has me pushing up to sitting, and cautiously edging toward the side of the bed. On only slightly wobbly legs, I cautiously stand, taking inventory of how I feel. A little stiff. Exhausted. A pounding head. And possibly still a little dizzy.
Something on the floor near his desk catches my eye, and I squint at it, forcing my tired eyes to focus. With a quick glance toward the bathroom, I shuffle over there and squat down to pick up what I realize is an old, worn photo, curling at the edges. It’s obviously something he’s looked at a million times, folded down the middle to the point of cracking. I turn it over. It’s a younger Kingston standing beside some blonde girl with his arm draped over her shoulders. At first glance, I assume it’s an old girlfriend, but upon further inspection, I note the wide grins on their faces as they stare into the camera. The resemblance is uncanny.
I’m so transfixed by the rare smile on Kingston’s face, I don’t notice him emerging from the bathroom until he’s striding toward me, his scowl murderous. “What the fuck are you doing?” He rips the photo from my grasp, his bare chest heaving in fury.
Stunned, my eyes widen. He looks like a wreck. I’m caught off guard by his red-rimmed eyes and blank expression. “It was on the floor.” I shake my head, feeling like I unknowingly invaded his privacy. “I didn’t mean—”
“You what? Thought because I let you sleep in here that you had permission? News flash, Elliot, this is my room—my private space. What I leave laying around is none of your goddamn business.”
My gaze flicks to the vein at his temple that’s throbbing as my lips curve downward. I feel like I’ve been gut punched. And I don’t think I deserve his wrath. I suck in a breath, pivot, and stride toward the door. I stop at the doorway to look at him. He’s practically vibrating with anger. “You know what? Fuck you. I’m not in the mood for your asshole tendencies right now. I’ve got enough going on, in case that slipped your mind.” When he doesn’t respond, I walk out, heading for my room.
From somewhere behind me, Kingston takes an audible breath. “Wait.”
There’s a raw, ragged quality to his voice that gives me pause. I stop, turning to face him. He’s fighting an internal battle, and the pain behind his eyes is intense. They dart between me and the photo, and he mutters something under his breath. Finally, when I’m on the brink of leaving him alone, the walls he’s put up between us begin to crumble. His shoulders sag as he blurts out, “I’m sorry. It’s just—” He scrubs a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “It’s my sister.”
My teeth sink into my lip as I study him, skin and hair still damp from his shower. Softly, I murmur, “I didn’t know you had one. She looks like you. What’s her name?”
“Juliette.” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “And she looked like me. Past tense.” The sadness in his eyes—he’s so fucking lost.
My heart drops. “No.” I’m now certain the quiet words Archer and Cannon exchanged with him before they left to go to class had to do with her. It’s obviously something they know about. Maybe this is the answer to what’s been wrong with Kingston all week.
“Would you—?” He hesitates. “Please. If you come back into my room, we can talk.” He shoots a look down the hallway toward the stairs. “I don’t want anyone overhearing.”
I exhale, my breath feathering softly over my lips before I nod. “Yeah. Okay.” I swallow hard as he gestures that I should precede him into the room. Not wanting to do anything else to upset him, I walk in and plant my butt firmly on the edge of the bed. He pulls his desk chair out and sits across from me.
We stare at each other silently for several seconds, until—to my utter surprise—he crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”
My brow furrows, but I get up, closing the distance between us. Once I’m standing before him, he tugs me between his legs, and sits me on his big thigh. The towel he’s wrapped around his waist is damp, but I can’t find it in myself to care.
Hesitantly, he puts his arms around me, resting his cheek against my chest. I can feel the sigh leave him, more than I hear it. It’s released from so far inside him, I’m totally freaking out. Moving slowly, I drape one arm over his shoulder, then bring my hand up to his neck, gently moving my fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. “You can talk to me, Kingston.”
The breath he drags in is labored, and he exhales harshly before responding. “You didn’t know about Juliette because our father wiped away all traces of her existence. She would have been twenty years old now. A junior. She might have even followed in my footsteps and come to KU if—” His voice hitches, and he shakes his head. “I wish I could go back and do things differently. If I’d stood up to him, she’d still be here. I’m sure of it.”
I draw in a sharp breath. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah—” His words stall out again, and the thunder of his heart under my palm is so harsh, it’s frightening. With a wince, he murmurs, “He’s nothing but a misogynistic dick. He didn’t understand Juliette at all. He didn’t think she was capable of anything more than running a home like our mother does—not that there’s anything wrong with that, because it’s what my mother prefers. But it’s not for Juliette—” He exhales sharply, clearly distressed that he misspoke. “Itwasn’tfor her, and Dad blew a gasket when she announced she’d like to do some college visits. Our father was adamant it was an unnecessary waste of time and money for her to go away to school, that she’d wind up pregnant and dropping out anyway. He pounded it into her head that she was worth less than nothing. That she had nothing to give, nothing to prove to anyone. She had no support from him. I tried to listen to her, I swear I did.” He hangs his head. “He’s the reason why she’s gone. But I should have seen it coming. And I will never forgive myself for not acting in time.”
Oh, no.I bite down hard on my lip. The tight fist caging my heart tells me that I already know what happened to her. But I’m scared to ask. After a few heavy breaths, I stammer, “W-what happened?”
Kingston shakes his head, as if he still can’t believe whatever he’s about to say. “My baby sister took her own life.”
All the air punches from my lungs.No.Shock rolls through me, my stomach pitching.
His eyes take on this vacant look, his jaw tightening. “Today. Four years ago. Each and every anniversary of her death… the way I feel is as raw and fresh as the day I found her.” He makes a grab for the arrow pendant at his neck that I now realize he doesn’t even remove to shower.
