“What accident?”
Kitty shakes her head and bites her lip hard. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Not her secrets to tell. It’s clear she feels like she’s betraying her brother. I won’t make her do it. But my heart is on fire, and I feel sick. Horribly sick.
“There’s got to be other treatments. Acupuncture or something organic or…I don’t know.”
“No. He’s too stubborn.”
I cover her hand with mine. She leans into me, and then we’re hugging and clinging together, tears tracking down our cheeks. “He’s okay with everyone at work hating him. He lets them think he’s a bad person. They say horrible things. I stop it when I can, but…he’s not. I’ve always known he’s not.”
“My brother is a hero. He doesn’t care what people think about him. Never has. He used to…to hide me in a closet whenever our father came home,” Kitty sobs, still clinging to me. “That bastard wrecked my brother. He broke his body, he broke his ribs, and also his arm once. My brother was a kid too. He was just a kid, and he’d go out there and stand between a monster and me and my mom. He gave us our lives in exchange for his. I…I need to take care of him. I really want to, but I don’t know how because he won’t let me. He’s a good man. He’s still soft and kind, even though he would never want anyone to know. My father didn’t succeed in stealing all his good parts or breaking him completely, but he now needs someone. I’m so glad he has you.”
He paid me to marry him. Oh my god, he paid me, but I don’t want the money. I don’t want his money now. I can’t take it.
“Your father should be in prison,” I snap, swiping at the salty tracks on my cheeks.
“Don’t worry about that.” She laughs, bitter and humorless, and the sound chills me. “He’s dead. Started a fight in a bar one night, took a punch, fell, and hit his head. He had a brain hemorrhage, and he died from that. Awful but ironic. We could all breathe after. We tried to come back, but Leon wouldn’t talk to my mom.”
“Montague isn’t an Irish name.”
“It’s my mother’s last name. She’s French. She lives there now. In Paris. She moved after I came to the US, and Leon followed.”
I don’t know what to say. How can I fix someone’s health? How can I help? How can I repair their painful childhood and the fractured relationship they have with their remaining family? He gave himself up to save his sister and mom, but now he won’t talk to her. Why?Because she should have done something. She was the parent. The adult.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, my voice trembling as I swipe at my salty cheeks again.
“He hates when I see him like that. Hates it so much. It might hurt him worse and make him more stressed. I know that’s a trigger. And sunlight. Bright lights too. He hates bright lights. And loud noises. It’s like everything is magnified for him all the time. I don’t know. I don’t want to go in and hurt him more, especially since he’s spared me so much. It’s my turn now. I could…I could make us some tea if you want. If you want to talk to him first and ask if it would be okay.”
It all seems so backward, but I understand. “Okay.”
We go into the cabin together. Kitty doesn’t know the place, but she finds her way into the kitchen, and I can hear the water running, the quiet scrape of the kettle on the stove, and the click of the burner. I let myself into my old bedroom. As a child, I could never have imagined that this would be happening. I could never have imagined myself here, right now, in this moment.
I open the door as quietly as I can. Leon is on his side, facing the wall. I shut the door and track my way in through the dark. I sit down softly on the edge of the bed, hovering, keeping my weight off the mattress. He doesn’t move, so I don’t know if he’s sleeping or not. But I would say not. I hate sleeping when I’m sick too. It’s always so terrible. You can’t escape your body.
Before I know what I’m doing, I spread out on the bed, moving so slowly, one muscle at a time. I should stop, but I can’t. Not with Kitty’s words playing over and over in my brain. Leon doesn’t move. He doesn’t make a sound. If I’m hurting him, he’d tell me, wouldn’t he? He’s so close. So huge in the small bed. I’m still so near the edge that I could fall off. There isn’t room for me here. Not on the bed and not in Leon’s life, but I make room anyway. I shift next to him, curling around him like I could protect him even though I’m so much smaller. I slide my arm gently around his waist, barely daring to touch him. My back and bottom pretty much hang over the edge of the mattress.
I can’t stay silent, even if it hurts us both. “I was scared to death,” I whisper. “I called your sister. I’m sorry. We talked outside. Leon…I—Iknow. I know a lot of it, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the kid you never got to be, and I’m sorry for the pain now. I’m sorry that some people are beyond horrible. My heart is destroyed.”
I know it has to suck for him, but Leon moves. He turns slowly in the bed until we’re facing each other. The mattress is so small that we’re pressed together. I extend my hand and rest it on his chest. His T-shirt is damp, clinging to hard muscle. His eyes are shiny in the dark, but his face is as impassive as ever with the mask he’s so used to wearing that he can’t let it slip even now.
“I’ll stay if it’s okay.” I can’t help it. I have to move my hand up and stroke it over his hair. An exhale escapes. He closes his eyes like he wants even that much back. Just one single,telling, exhausted breath. “Your sister is making tea because she wasn’t sure if she should come in here. She told me why. She told me everything. It’s late, so she’s going to spend the night.”
Leon’s eyes burn against me as I run my hand in gentle movement over his temple. I watch the way his eyes shutter close, and I do it again, massaging so very gently in small circles with my fingertips. “I’ll stay right here. I have serious badass skills that you know nothing about, so I’ll keep watch tonight. I’m not going to let anything hurt you again. I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone else do that either.”
He groans low in his throat. “That’s rather extreme.” His voice is raspy. Rusty.
I’m still so thankful for it regardless. “Oh, thank god. You weren’t saying anything.”
“My head hurts.”
“I know. What can I do?”
He leans into my hand. He actually leans into my fingertips and closes his eyes. “Just that. It feels…good.” He sounds shocked. He keeps his eyes closed, and his breathing becomes more even, a little deeper, but I can tell he’s nowhere near sleep.
“I thought you’d hate me for knowing.” My voice is just as broken as his. Just as rough and raw.
“I hate the fact that you know. Never you, though.”