“You’ve never had a good cry? Like, the kind of cry that leaves your soul feeling clean and refreshed?”
I bite back a smile. I think most people assume tears run rampant in a household of females, but the truth is, I have a long history of shoving my feelings out of sight, swallowing them down and pushing onward. It felt practical when I was young. Now, as the burden of grief has grown over the course of my life, and I’ve failed to learn how to release it along the way, it’s more than just cumbersome. At times, the weight of it is downright crippling.
It's why I tried to teach Sloan to make time to feel.Allof her feelings.
And why I’m grateful when I hear her talk about the soul cleansing cry she has over a book she read. Because I did better by her than I learned for myself. That’s one generational curse I know dies with me.
Meanwhile, Knox seems to be teetering somewhere between her healthy standards and my toxic ones when it comes to emotions.
“I mean, I’ve cried,” he starts, like he feels awkward just admitting it, “but I don’t think I’ve ever bawled my eyes out over a book before.”
“A movie?” Sloan tries another approach.
“Nope.” I can hear his fingers tap the steering wheel. I know the sound. It’s what he does when he’s thought of something. “You know what gets me though, those videos they make about abused animals, how they’re saved, how full of life they are once they recover. That shit right there, that makes me cry.”
Sloan erupts in giggles. From the way the sound carries, she must have collapsed across the entire backseat in her fit. She’s nothing if not dramatic. Being in touch with your emotions will do that. “I can’t believe you cry at those. You know they’re totally staged and scripted.”
“But their little faces! And the big eyes!” Knox insists. “Come on, you gotta have a heart of stone not to get a little choked up watching those.”
I used to think I had a heart of stone. Now it feels like a heart of lead. Dropping from my chest down to the pit of my stomach, making me want to curl over with the weight of it.
I don’t want to give this up.
But I don’t want to wake up to find out I never really had it either.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KNOX
I have no idea what happened at that dance mom meeting, but something definitely changed in Kenley from the time she went in to when she came back out.
I can’t put my finger on it. She’s pleasant through dinner, joking like normal with Sloan, laughing at the stuff she says. Even stuff I say. She’s polite.
But that’s it.
She’s present with Sloan.
Distant with me.
And I don’t like it.
No, I fucking hate it.
“Wanna take a walk out to the dock and talk?” I ask when Kenley comes back down the stairs after checking in on Sloan. That kid’s a serious night owl, so I doubt she’ll be asleep anytime soon. And I can’t wait all night hoping for a moment of privacy. Not when Kenley is pulling farther and farther away from me with every passing minute.
“I have work,” she starts, clearly trying to avoid my gaze. She fails and locks eyes with me despite her efforts. “Sure,” she surrenders to my request. “We could go down to the dock.”
I grab one of the sweaters I’ve noticed she keeps lying spread out around her small space, and gesture for her to take the lead. It’s chilly out now the sun’s gone down. Fall is in the air. Ordinarily, I’d find it comforting, the change in season, the promise of a new chapter. Tonight, I find it unnerving. For the first time in my life, I’m not looking forward to change. I have something I want to keep as it is. Build on it, yes, but let it go and move on to new horizons? Hell, no.
“You gonna make me drag it out of you?” I ask when we reach the dock, having made the entire walk here in silence.
She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t get real far anyway,” she mumbles. “Truth is, I’m not even sure what’s going on with me anymore.”
“Let’s start with what triggered this change.” I want to be patient with her. I know she needs it. Deserves it. But it’s hard to be patient when you’re scared. And I am. I’m scared. “Your ex call you or something?”
“No, it wasn’t him.”
But it was someone. “That woman I saw you walking out with?”
