The Weight of Rain (48 page)

Kash’s gaze and shoulders fall toward the floor. “I can’t. I can’t go through the idea of losing someone again. It may not be death this time. Maybe it’s divorce, or another guy. How many couples stay together these days? Once I’m in, I am all in.”

“Summer hasn’t dated anyone in five years. Five. Years. Kash.” My head shakes with how obtuse he’s being. “It doesn’t get any more
in
than that. But if you don’t do something soon, you’re going to lose her. She’s eventually going to resent always being here for you, and you never appreciating it or noticing how much she’s giving, and just as importantly, what she’s trying to give to you.”

“What if—”

“There are an infinite number of what ifs but only one choice to make. You need to decide if you’re ever going to be ready to let someone in, or let her free.”

Silence stretches, hanging heavily in the air, beckoning me to break it. I swallow the desire as Kash’s gaze travels back to mine, his chin tilted and attention focused. “Are you going to break up with King?”

My attention drops faster than a blink.

“Lo, it’s just a summer.”

“My career has no direct ties. I could end up anywhere.”

“You’re being a coward!”

I look back to him but can’t keep his intense stare, so I move between over his shoulder and over his head. “I haven’t made a decision.”

Kash blinks heavily as his eyes grow wide once again. “You haven’t decided on what? On not going?”

“Almost anything,” I answer truthfully.

T
HE NEXT
week goes by slowly. I’m no longer working to avoid only King. I’m working to avoid everyone and everything because the thought of saying goodbye is starting to threaten my certainty for going.

“Why are you ignoring everyone all of a sudden?” Kenzie’s arms are spread between both railings, her eyes wide, demanding a response. I’ve been so careful, yet I wasn’t even paying attention as I wandered up the stairs, trying to think positively about Italy for the first time all week.

“I’ve been avoiding you since September,” I reply honestly.

I note the way her eyes look away for a fleeting second before returning to me. “Not like this you haven’t.”

I shrug off her response and take another step forward to signal I’m done. She allows me to pass, following close behind as I unlock the door to our apartment. Kenzie drops her purse to the ground with a thud, closely followed by her coat.

“Is this because of the fashion show?”

Through narrowed eyes I watch her closely, trying to read what all she may know about the situation.

“I know what it’s like to not feel accepted by your family,” she continues. “I’ve always been the black sheep. King and Kash were older and always off doing stuff with their bikes, or off on some adventure that I wasn’t invited to. I never wanted to be home. I hated that place. It was huge and always empty, yet I was never allowed to leave. I felt like I had manacles around my ankles and wrists for
eighteen years
. Believe me, I get it.”

I’ve never shared my personal feelings about anything with Kenzie. Perhaps it’s the timing, or that I’m feeling vulnerable, but my head shakes with defeat. “The people that are supposed to love me the most, unconditionally…” My lungs feel weighted yet empty, and my throat too tight. I don’t know if it hurts so much because I’m finally admitting this to someone else or because I am finally acknowledging this truth myself. “They don’t love me. My dad needed another son. Someone to stay and carry on the family business with my brother. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me. Hell, I can’t remember the last time he told me he loves me. And my brother. God, my brother has hated me since I was born. Everything about me he hates. The way I look, the way I act, what I go to school for, the fact that I lived there, the fact that I’m now gone. And we can’t forget about my mom.” I take a deep breath as a strange energy creeps through my veins that has my fingers trembling, keeping tears at bay though they burn at the corners of my eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“I don’t understand why you even care.”

“I told you I messed up. I know I messed up. Eighteen years living with Queen Bitch taught me a lot of nasty habits. Ones I still don’t even recognize until they’re pointed out to me. We are really different people, but I know how much my family is starting to love you, and if I can do something to make this right, I will. Anything.”

I press my lips together to stop them from quivering. “My mother left when I was two months old. She has never wanted me.” My voice wavers and my eyes gloss with tears. “If they can’t love me, who will?” My chin trembles violently and the gloss becomes smears as tears glide down my face.

“People who say that blood is thicker than friendship have never known what it’s like to have an asshole as a parent. It’s a bunch of bullshit. Too many families stick together out of pure obligation.” Kenzie’s throat moves as she swallows. Her lips and chin quiver as she opens them to speak again. “We don’t get to choose our families, but we do get to decide who we make our families. Sometimes they’re blood, and sometimes it’s something much deeper.”

“What if there’s something wrong with me?” My voice is strained and hoarse.

“There’s something wrong with all of us. It’s a matter of finding the people that can accept those faults and love them as much as your strengths. Too many people want to be Wendy. They want to find the Lost Boys and be their savior—the reason for them to change their ways. People don’t change, though, at least not permanently. Eventually, those bad habits will return because like it or not, we are all born with weaknesses.”

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and smile at her though my lips are tipped downward with the desire to cry. “I feel like we need to follow this up by singing
Kumbaya
or something.”

“You’re worse at having a deep conversation than my brothers,” Kenzie says, shaking her head as her face travels up in an attempt to hide her own tears.

“I was raised by men. It’s to be expected.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you, and I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about King. I swear, it wasn’t because of you. It was because of Isabelle, and I know that doesn’t make it right or fair. I just hope you can sort of understand.”

I nod, brushing yet another stray tear from my cheek. “I get it. Sometimes we do crazy things for the people we love.”

“I won’t butt in anymore,” Kenzie says with a firm nod. “Your business with King is your business, but you really should go talk to him.”

“So was this an attempt to make your conscience feel better, or a favor to King, or…”

Kenzie shrugs, her shoulders rolling in a way that reminds me of King. “Maybe all of it, but, although we may never be close friends, I don’t want you to hate me, Lo. I really did like you at the beginning of the year, and as much as I hated you for sleeping with King, I hated you even more because I still liked you.”

There have been multiple times this year that I’ve loathed Kenzie as both a person and roommate, yet her saying this still makes me shed more tears. “I’m leaving in ten days.”

“Don’t waste them.”

I wrap my arms around Kenzie in an aggressive hug that she reciprocates with a stunned pat, and then I move to the door, grabbing my messenger bag on the way out.

K
ING IS
in the shop when I arrive, his face contorted with frustration and focus. His moves aren’t as fluid or graceful as they always have been previously, and I know with certainty that it’s because he’s distracted. It doesn’t take away from the beauty of watching him, however. He is still fearless liquid motion as he moves in impossible ways.

“Dude, you need to take a break. You’re going to break your leg or your bike,” a guy insists when King fails to land the same move for the third time. King scowls at him, but I take it as my cue to move closer.

He notices me at the same time I catch sight of his shirt. It’s a black T-shirt with my logo printed in the center: a large bicycle wheel kicking up mud with spindles that are both iron and feathers. It pinches my heart.

“Can we talk?”

“That depends,” King says, holding his bike beside him, his shin bleeding from hitting the edge of the ramp. “Are we going to discuss how we’re going to make this work, or are you still feeling stubborn?”

“I’m pretty sure you called that my passion and you said it was one of my better attributes.”

“I never said it was one of your better attributes. I said I loved it. But it’s one of your worst attributes when you get so damn stubborn you can’t listen to reason.”

The guy who instructed King to take a break stares at me, clearly trying to interpret the situation and my intentions. “Want to go to Waterfront with me?”

“Now?”

I shrug, my eyes moving back to the man still staring at me. King follows my gaze and then leans his bike against the wall. “Let’s go.”

We ride in silence for the short distance to reach downtown, and I hate that it reminds me so much of two weeks ago after the fashion show.

As King parks, I notice his movements becoming slower. “What happened? Is it us? Your family? School? Italy?”

I take a deep breath, trying so hard to keep eye contact with him rather than look over his shoulder. “I’m so afraid we’re going to hurt each other, King.”

“Stop, Lo.” He turns in his seat to face me, his hand finally extending across the cab to touch my leg. “It’s three months. That’s it.”

“Three months of you competing in a world you love.”

“And I know you want to be there, and that’s enough for me.”

My eyes fall at the thought. Is that enough? Why have I never considered it like that?

King nods toward the window. “Let’s walk.”

Generally when I walk Waterfront, there are so many people, my mind whirls with images, colors, textures, and infinite other details, but today I see only him. Even the noisy band that I had previously seen people turn their heads toward with a myriad of emotions ranging from joy to annoyance has ceased to exist. This only happens with King. I am exhilarated. Nervous. Inspired by all that is King, because only he is able to make the world disappear.

I’m also terrified, realizing he’s carrying so much more than just my hand. What if he meets someone new? What if this doesn’t work? What will happen to my world?

“We have a little over a week left. I don’t want to waste it.” His eyes close as he shakes his head ever so slightly. “I want to spend every second with you until you’re so sick of me that getting on that plane to Florence is a relief.”

The burn of tears threatens my eyes, but I force a smile on my face and shake my head when I realize the tears are coming regardless of how hard I try to fight them. “That won’t take a full week.”

King’s lips pull up into a smile at my joke, but his eyes are unfocused, reflecting the same emotion I’ve been experiencing since opening my acceptance letter: loss. He wraps his arms around me slowly as though he’s hesitant maybe from rejection, or because also like me, he knows this is the beginning of a short train of good-byes. He pulls me flush against his body, and I feel his heart against my chest, conversing with my own. It’s a crazy and messy mixture of pleas and fears that my heart relays back as I hold on to King with everything inside of me.

The ring of a bicyclist is the only reason we eventually part. Otherwise, I think we would have tested how long we could both go without food or water. His jaw clenches and his eyes close, making my heart thunder and my eyes heat with tears. I understand what he’s feeling; I know it so well. It is as though we are made to be together and time keeps mocking us. It hurts. It hurts like hell.

“Let’s get some dinner,” King says, threading his fingers with mine.

“I need to tell Mercedes.”

“She’ll understand.”

I nod sadly. I should be relieved that he’s ensuring she’ll be okay, yet, whether it’s for fear that she won’t or fear that she will, my eyes cloud with tears once again.