Page 156 of We Are Yours
“Kraven—”
He slammed the door shut and locked it behind him. He didn’t move, resting his forehead on the hard wood to hold himself up.
I never ached to know his thoughts like I did right then. It was painful.
My hand flew to my heart, where it pounded against my chest.
“Kraven, I…”
I stopped myself, unsure of everything. More than ever, I longed to be his comfort.
His relief.
His refuge.
Home.
“Kraven,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry… I should’ve?—”
He turned, facing me and rendering me speechless. His back slid down the door until he sat with his knees up and his arms placed over them. He was reluctant to look at me at first.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was afraid my voice would betray me if I spoke, hurting him further.
He was desperately trying not to lose it on me.
Except this time, I wanted him to.
I wanted it all.
His anger too.
I deserved it.
He’d been my only stability for the past month. I’d forgotten what it was like to stand on my own, without the safety he provided. It resided deep in my bones, bringing back the same sense of ease and familiarity with his presence.
His hair had fallen around his face, framing it perfectly. Accentuating the intensity of his Caribbean-blue eyes, boring deep into mine.
When the quiet became too loud, he shared, “I never wanted you to see me like that again. I promised myself I’d never let you witness what you saw with Justin. Fuck… I’m so sorry, Kitty.”
I made my way over to him, dropping to my knees to get close to his face. “It’s alright, Kraven.”
“No, it’s not, Isla. I keep fucking up with you, and it’s the last thing I want to do.” He bowed his head, erupting into a flood of emotions.
He needed me.
Wanted me.
I had to be there for him.
He’d done so much for me. It was the least I could do. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, hearing his father say all his biggest insecurities. He’d baited Kraven so crudely and with no remorse whatsoever.
He came there to hurt him.
End of story.
It was all too much.
His mom.
