Chapter 63: Candies and kisses
Chapter Sixty Three
My feet carried us to a small park a few blocks away, where the noise of the city faded to a distant hum. The moment we stopped, everything inside me shattered.
The sobs came like a dam bursting, violent and raw. My knees buckled and I collapsed onto a bench, my whole body convulsing with grief I’d kept locked away for these.
Kieran didn’t say anything. He just sat beside me and pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me so tightly I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek. One hand cradled the back of my head while the other rubbed slow circles on my back.
"It’s okay," he whispered into my hair, his voice softer than I’d heard it in years. "I’ve got you. You’re safe."
But I wasn’t okay. Four years of buried pain poured out of me - the nights I’d cried myself to sleep, wondering what was wrong with me, the way I’d thrown away every doll and scrubbed the polish from my nails, hoping Dad would come back, the guilt of knowing his leaving was my fault.
Kieran held me through all of it, never loosening his grip, never telling me to stop. His shirt grew damp with my tears, but he didn’t seem to care. He just held me like he used to when we were kids and I’d scraped my knee or had a nightmare during one of our sleepovers.
When the worst of it finally passed, I became painfully aware of how I must look. Red-eyed, snotty, clinging to the boy who’d spent years tormenting me. I tried to pull away, embarrassment creeping in, but Kieran’s arms tightened, keeping me close to him.
"What did you see in there?" His voice was gentle but firm, demanding an answer.
I knew he remembered my father from when we were kids, but by the time my parents divorced, we’d already fallen apart. He probably didn’t even know when they separated.
"I saw my dad there," I confessed, my voice hoarse. "I thought I was over it. I wanted to confront him, ask him all the questions I’ve held for years, but I couldn’t."
Fresh tears started falling and I quickly wiped them away, frustrated with myself.