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I can't handle it all so I break in his arms, crying against his bare shoulder, tugging him further into me, as if he could somehow absorb the pain if our bodies are close enough.
The pain doesn't dissipate in his arms, though; it just settles in my throat and in my chest and in my stomach
"What are we going to do?" I ask, my nose stuffy and my voice raw.
Kyle runs an exhausted hand through his hair. "We need to tell someone."
He starts to pull away from me, but I wrap my legs around his wet, bathing suit-clad waist.
"Don't leave me alone," I beg him, my hands frantically clinging to him. What if she comes back for more?
Kyle's composure falters and I can see the anguish and hurt building like a storm in his dark eyes. He wraps an arm around me, cups my cheek with his free hand. "This is all my fault. I never should have...I never should have..."
"You never should have what?" I swallow hard, scared that the words started this are going to escape his lips.
Does he regret this relationship? All it's brought him are secrets and sleepless nights and sneaking around.
I can't tell what he's thinking. But by the rigidity of his body, the guilt in his voice, the way his hands barely touch my skin, just feather lightly over me, I'm worried that he's going to hurt me. That he's going to break my heart. Only I won't survive it the way I survived Matt's heartbreak. This one...this one will destroy me. This one I won't recover from. I can feel it.
"I never should have kept her secrets," Kyle finishes.
Every bone in my tired body exhales in relief. His arm wraps tighter around me, his touch warm and comforting. I lift my head, search for his mouth. I need a distraction, just for a minute, before we have to deal with whatever's waiting on the other side of that door.
He runs his fingers through my damp hair. Without a word, he presses his lips to mine and gives me what I need. My hands reach around his body, settle on his bare back. For a moment, I get lost in him. In his soothing hands and his gentle mouth, the way his lips stitch together the rips and tears in my chest. I feel safe, protected, like no one can hurt me when he's next to me, near me.
"Go to your room and get changed. I'll grab your mom," Kyle says as he kisses my forehead, offers me a hand, and then steps back to help me off the vanity.
I wrap the damp towel around my body as I cling to his arm, praying Matt's not in the hallway. I'm not ready to be away from Kyle, even for a second.
Kyle leads me down the hallway, to the room I'm sharing with Audra. He opens the door and tells me he'll be right back. Audra's not in her bed so I flick the light on and rummage through my things. I toss on a tank top and a pair of blue cotton shorts while I wait for Mom and Kyle to come back.
I can't look at my arm. I don't want to see the marks she left on me.
Diane.
The woman who took me to see Irving Berlin's White Christmas at the Denver Center for Performing Arts when I was 13.
The same woman who used to drive me to school and bake brownies when I had a fight with Mom, and I needed a place to vent.
She cooked me meals. Checked on me when I spent the night. Braided my hair. Kept me safe when Mom and Dad had to fly to California that time Tommy got into a car accident and was in the hospital.
She's always been a second Mom, someone I've looked up to, wanted to be like, emulate.
Except she isn't what she seems.
What's wrong with her? Why did she hurt me? Why is she forgetting things? Where did the Diane I love go?
She's a...she's a monster now.
Or has she always been one?
I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes and sit down on the bed, take a few deep breaths, try to think about anything other than the way she slurred those horrible words at me.
You little slut.
It was different when Colleen said those things to me. I don't care what Colleen thinks. But this woman, who gave birth to my best friend and Kyle, I care what she thinks. Not only because her sons are important to me, but because she's important to me, too.
The door creaks open and Mom's sleepy face appears. I can't help it when my throat constricts, and the grief falls from my eyes. "Mom?"
