Page 62 of Finally Found You

JJ’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently as she passes me a tissue. I dab at the tears that refuse to cease.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you and kicking you out. I don’t hate you,” Kenzy murmurs.

“I know.”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“Of course. I love you a lot, and I’m always here for you. Always,” I emphasize.

“Do you think you can come and visit me sometime?” she asks, cautious, as if she’s afraid of the answer.

“We can try to plan something. Maybe around Christmas break?” The suggestion slips out before I can consider the implications. I’m still nursing a broken heart, and the prospect of having an awkward conversation with Lysander isn’t on my bingo card this year. “But we can video chat and text anytime.”

“I would like that,” she murmurs. There’s a pause, then she continues, “There’s a lot more I want to tell you, but this was very important. I needed you to know that I was hurting, not angry. That I would never hate you. I just didn’t know how to deal with my feelings.”

“It sounds like you’re learning, and that’s all that matters,” I assure her, a bloom of hope unfurling in my chest.

“Umm, by the way, thank you for everything you sent from Nonna’s house.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Talk soon?”

“Of course. Love you, Kenz,” I say before hanging up the phone.

“Everything okay?” JJ asks.

“Better,”I say, my nod almost imperceptible. I hold my phone close, hoping this isn’t our last call. And as I sit there, I start to rethink my plans. North Carolina suddenly seems much too far from where I need to be—from where Kenzy is.

I glance at JJ and say, “Maybe Seattle could be an option. Let me think about it, okay?”

JJ smiles and nods. “I’ll support you no matter what.”

“Thank you for being the best sister in the world.” I rest my head on her shoulder.

“It goes both ways.”

And one thing is for sure, I found my family, even when they’re not blood.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Lysander

At five o’clock, I’m outside the building where Kenzy’s therapist works. I’m hoping this time she’ll be here on time. Last week, it took her twenty minutes because the patient after her loves the same bands as Kenzy.

My heart stops when Kenzy slides into the passenger seat of my car. Her normally bright eyes are red and blotchy.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

She nods, a slight movement that does little to reassure me.

My fingers twitch on the steering wheel. A part of me wants to turn toward one of her favorite restaurants and spoil her until her smile returns. But I resist the urge. Two months ago, after a long therapy session, I came to the realization that I was overcompensating for the time I missed with her by spoiling her. It’s been a learning process, but I no longer promise her the stars in exchange for an ounce of love or a smile. I want to think that we have a better relationship because of that.

“You know I’m here for you,” I offer, because I don’t like to see her sad.

“I know.”

And I wait, but she doesn’t say anything else. So I try something different. “Or if you need to talk to anyone else…”

---