Page 61 of Doc

He bites his bottom lip, his anger radiating from him as we make eye contact. I show him my pain, and he mirrors it.

“I gave you my heart despite my home life, and you broke it,” I finally admit. “For nearly a year, I thought you were making it work with her. You never gave me a chance to understand your reasoning, just deciding to try and protect me like I protected you by burying that body.” He flinches. “You never gave me a chance to help you because, if you did, then I would have told you the one person she would have gone to with the footage, the one person who likes to hold me over a barrel is the person who locked me in a closet any chance she got.” He slowly closes his eyes, but I continue, “You hurt me, Lucas. You are all I’ve ever wanted and instead of speaking to me, you let me believe you used me, you let me believe you only wanted me because I was a virgin. You made me believe I meant nothing to you when I mean everything.”

He slowly drops his head.

I sniffle. “You left me. I finally had the courage to come home, to tell you everything, and you left me.”

He shakes his head, not looking at me as he whispers, “I couldn’t bear the hurt anymore, Kennedy. You were talking to everyone else but me. You read my letters and went radio silent with me. I couldn’t cope any longer. I had to go.”

I let out a sob, ready to tell him about Layla, when the elevator shudders, then starts to move again.

He sighs then kisses my forehead, murmuring, “Come on, Pixie.”

I nod as he helps me up, and I quickly wipe away my tears, my eyes staying on his. I whisper, “I want to talk to you, Lucas. I need to. I know you're tired, but I-I….”

My words trail off, not knowing how to express the urgency, but he sighs and then nods, rubbing a hand through his hair as the door opens. He holds his arm out for me to go first, and I do, ignoring the professionals all looking at the elevator. I head to my car, promising to take the stairs from now on. I slightly turn to see him heading to his bike on the opposite side of the lot, and state, “Follow me back to yours….”

He nods, lifting his hand, and my heart hurts.

Are we done?

Is too much pain spread between us?

Is shake my head…. No, I won’t allow it. He fought for me even when I couldn’t fight for us. Maybe it’s my turn to fight.

21

Doc

I swallow hard as I watch Phil let Kennedy through the gates. He grins wide when he sees me, and I put my hand up as I drive through. I notice my sister and dad near her car as Kennedy passes them. They both wave before looking my way. My dad's body physically relaxes, while Lola looks at where Kennedy is driving, and her eyes light up on me.

I put my hand up to them, my dad getting his phone out, most likely to inform everyone I'm back and tell them to give us some space. Then, I follow Kennedy back to my place.

Dad mentioned that Momma was airing it out daily, so it wouldn't smell, at least.

Kennedy pulls in front of the garage, and I park next to her but stay on my bike for a moment, letting her climb out of her car. I've done a lot of thinking over the past five weeks. We'd sorted out the rats within two weeks and the rest, well, I just needed some time to get my head straight.

I've needed the time to accept that she's most likely still with the guy she's seeing, and that we may never have our chance together. It kills me, but I've realized I need to let her live her life, even if it isn't with me.

I hurt her so fucking much that not even my letters, which were full of pain, convinced her to call me.

Sighing, I climb off my bike and walk toward her where she's waiting near the front door.

Fuck she's beautiful. Her hair is now down instead of up in the bun she had, and she's still in her scrubs, but she's gorgeous. She always has been, and my cock definitely likes what he sees.

I silently tell him to stand down as I walk past her and unlock the door, before opening it to allow her in first. I shut and lock it again, knowing we need to get everything out without interruptions.

So much fucking hurt and pain, and I've barely slept…. Fuck this is going to be shit.

I walk into the living area to see she's looking at the photo of her and me or her eighteenth birthday as I throw my keys on the table near the doorway.

"I remember this day," she rasps. "I was hoping you'd kiss me again like you did on my sixteenth."

I smile at that and reply, "I did. You were just too drunk by that point; you were babbling, and I didn't know what to do, so I planted one on you. You threw up straight after. Pretty sure Lola was grounded for a month for spiking your drinks."

She snorts, shaking her head, before turning toward me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I-I don't know where to start," she stutters, and I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

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