Attracted to her 💘

Chapter 21

BRENT

"How fucked up is that?"

Early the next morning, Waldo's eyes follow me like a spectator at Wimbledon as I pace back and forth in front of his couch, recounting my argument with Kennedy word for word. I barely slept last night—I was too busy replaying it in my head. And waiting for her to call. To tell me that she's come over to my side of sanity and she's dropping the case.

But my phone stayed mute.

Waldo clears his throat. "Throughout your impressive rant, you didn't utter a single word about Kennedy's perspective. Have you given any thought at all about what she may be feeling right now?"

Petulantly, I snort. "No."

I've been too busy being pissed off to analyze how she might feel about me being pissed off.

He nods. "Let's examine that. Kennedy is the one who was attacked and injured. She's the one who opened herself up to you when you fought so hard to regain her trust. The one who believed you when you professed your love. The one who watched you walk away when faced with your first challenge as a couple. How do you think she feels about all that, Brent?" His fingers thrum against the arm of the chair. "Afraid? Hurt? Devastated?"

Guilt trips from a seasoned therapist are a hard thing to resist, but I manage.

"She wouldn't feel any of that if she'd just do what I fucking tell her."

His lips hint at a smile, but not the good kind. He reminds me of Jasper, when he's got his mousey toy trapped between his claws—and he's about to screw with it. "But relationships don't work that way. You know this. Kennedy needs your support, not your direction."

I open my mouth to argue, but he talks right over me.

"Let's not waste our time here. How about you try being honest—and tell me what you're really feeling."

I rub at the frustration knotting the back of my neck. "Are you kidding, or just blind? I'm angry, Captain Obvious."

His gaze is steady and calm. Knowing. It's fucking annoying.

"You don't look angry to me. You look terrified. What are you actually afraid of, Brent?"

I throw my hands out. "I'm afraid she's going to get hurt!"

"That she's going to be hurt, or that you won't be able to prevent her from being hurt?"

I almost laugh. "Is there a goddamn difference?"

"Yes. One involves your concern for her. The other revolves only around yourself. The fear that you'll fail her. That you won't be able to protect her."

The truth is a relentless, ugly little beast. It scratches and gnaws, driving you crazy—until you let it out.

"I didn't protect her before, did I?"

I think about the night of the senior dance, Kennedy's face—muddy and bleeding. I think about years of poisonous taunts and hissed insults, which can break a soul as easily as sticks and stones break bone. "I left her to the wolves, and they had a feast. That's not going to happen again. No fucking way. I'm trying to protect her this time."

He nods. "You failed her before because you were selfish. An adolescent, thinking only of yourself."

"I know that!"

He spreads his arms—the big reveal. "And yet here you are—repeating yourself. Thinking of your wants. Your feelings. Like an irritable teenager all over again."