It All Started With a Diary

living

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"Take forgiveness slowly. Don't blame yourself for being slow. Peace will come." —Yoko Ono

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Chapter 97
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|One Year Later|

|Kade|

"You're going to be okay," Kimberly hummed into my ear. "I know it."

I sighed into her neck, fully accepting the moment to embrace her heavenly scent before it all went to complete shit.

I nodded, training my eyes ahead to the building in front of me. Inside was a monster, the very bane to the hateful man I nearly became. The link back to it all.

Kimberly's arms hung around my neck, and my own remained around her waist. I knew she wanted to join me, but I wouldn't let that son of a bitch lay eyes on her.

He couldn't taint anyone else I loved, ever again. His hatred for me, and anything that I cared for ran too deep, and I'll be damned if I ever expose Kimberly to it.

"I haven't seen the bastard in years," I mumbled, casting a glare at the prison. "Mom said that his latest letter came last week." With a sigh, I pressed my back against my car. "I'm going to tell him to stop writing to me."

Kimberly nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip as she eyed the building carefully. "I understand," she said softly, returning her pretty eyes back to me. "Don't lose yourself in him, though; he doesn't deserve an ounce of you. He'll think that he's got you that way, in your rage, but, he doesn't. He never will."

Her hand grasped the ends of my shirt, tugging me closer to her stance. I willingly went, just as I would with anything she demanded of me from her.

Despite the uproar of conflict, her simple touch was the one to reach me. Her thumb swept along my jawline, her lips rising. "You won, Kade. You're here. You're strong, and doing all of the things he didn't." I leaned into her touch, my heart thumping in my chest. "Kacen would be so, so proud of you. He already is. I know he's watching over you with nothing, but pride. I know I am."

I hoped that was true. I hoped that my brother, my sweet boy, was proud and happy that I was doing the things I never thought possible. I was sure he was, actually.

I drew in a relieved breath, nodding. My hand lifted her own, flipping it so that I could kiss the palm. "You're right, sweetheart."

Her head bobbed. "And," she added with a grin. "I might be cooking your favorite tonight."

I chuckled, tipping my head up to her. "Might?"

"Mhm," she hummed, allowing it to blossom into a smile that left my own shaking. "I already went, and got everything."

My head tilted, our humor matching the others. "I thought tonight was my turn, though."

On the nights we didn't go out, we both would pick the most random recipes, and take turns cooking for the other. Half of the time, we ended up abandoning the food for each other, then ordering a pizza or heating up leftovers whenever we decided to come back up for air.

Kimberly shrugged, moving closer until she was pressed against me. The feeling left my knees weak, something she never failed in accomplishing.

I placed a kiss to the top of her head just as she teased, "You'll get tonight off, but don't make a habit of it."