“Okay,” I sigh.
“I’ll be in touch, but you can call or text me if you have any questions or concerns. Please don’t think that you are bothering me because you aren’t. I want to help in any way I can.”
“I appreciate it,” I say.
Once I am finally able to leave, I find out that Keith had a friend of his drop his car off at the hospital. I am exhausted but I am also wide awake. By the time we get to his house, I am calmer than I expected. Now that the exam and the interview is done, I feel like no matter if I get justice or not, I can start healing.
We sit on his couch, and I sit back and close my eyes. “Tired?” he asks.
“Yes and no,” I say. “I feel oddly okay.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah. I think I should probably call my dad at some point and let him know what’s going on,” I say. “I’m not super excited for that conversation.”
“Why?”
“Because my dad will want to come up here and kill Grant and his friends,” I say. “After Mom died, he became super protective. He hates that I went so far for school but supports it nonetheless.”
“What are you doing after graduation?” he asks. He is sitting on the couch facing me, but I feel like if I look at him for too long, I’ll do something stupid.
“Hopefully find a job,” I laugh. “I’m staying here. He and I already know that he is going to end up moving here. A few years is one thing but permanently moving here is completely different.”
“May I ask how your mom died?” he asks.
“She killed herself,” I say. “I was the lucky winner of finding her when I was sixteen. She… slit her wrists and died on the bathroom floor.”
“My God. I’m so sorry,” he says. “That must have been hard.”
I can’t help but laugh. I finally open my eyes before turning on the couch to face him. I have my legs tucked underneath me and I’m unintentionally close to him. Close enough for me to be stupid.
“Why do I get the feeling you are playing therapist right now?” I ask with a smirk.
“It’s a force of habit,” he says, matching my smirk.
“Did you know when someone bleeds to death in your home, you have to clean it up or hire someone to clean it up?” I ask. “I was so fucking mad at my mom because she chose the messiest way to kill herself. I think I knew she was going to end up doing it, but I was pissed off because she couldn’t even do us the courtesy oftaking pills or something… saying that out loud sounds a bit more insane than I intended.”
“It’s dark, but it’s not insane,” he says. “You seem to cope with dark humor.”
“Apparently I cope with trauma by being an idiot,” I say.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I just… I feel like my thoughts are out of my control,” I say vaguely. “I feel like an idiot Because I walk through life thinking that no one would ever do that to me. I knew the bad people existed and I knew that sometimes those bad people would hurt others… I just never imagined that I would be one of those people.”
“No one wants to think that will happen to them,” he says softly. “Wanting to see the brighter side of your life does not make you an idiot.”
“No, what makes me an idiot is what I’m thinking right now,” I say. “Even though I have told myself over and over again what I’m thinking is not possible, somehow it still seems logical.”
“Far more is possible than you think, Bekah,” he says as he lays his arm across the back of the couch before gently squeezing my arm. His touch is electrifying, and I don’t understand it. He is watching me closely and it’s just fucking with my head even more. “What’s on your mind?”
“You,” I admit.
“I’m curious,” he grins.
“I don’t really understand it, to be honest,” I say.
“Well, you are a brilliant woman. I’m sure whatever it is is amazing,” he says sincerely.