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Saying Those Words
Evander
I have the urge to yank Kenna into a sitting room, or a closet, or a fucking darkened hallway the second my feet hit the ground in Moonrise.
I can’t, though. Not when our mothers are barreling toward us, and their faces are drawn with so much worry that it could easily break my heart, if I still had a heart to break.
I let go of Kenna’s hand and feel the absence of her touch like another blade in my side.
But my mom throws herself against me and sobs.
I slowly wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. The throne room takes shape all around me–the soft cream curtains, the murals on the walls and the ceiling, the windows overlooking the lake.
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