Keegan
Two days later, we watch the interview in Hunter’s room; he’s the only one with a television and a live TV subscription.
I want to ask him to leave, but I can’t very well kick him out of his own room.
Besides, Kendra is in here as well.
She’s been weird around me and Blue ever since we came back to the house, alternately looking mournful and maybe a little sympathetic, and then at other times shooting us—well, mainly me—these fuck-off-and-die looks that have really tested my patience.
I haven’t had the energy to ask her what her problem is. And I’m pretty sure I already know.
The interview is just what I expected: the dramatic script, the emotional soundtrack. But it’s fair. Rebecca doesn’t take anything we said out of context. She doesn’t need to.
After the show ends, we all just sit there silently for several moments.
Kendra pushes herself off the wall she was leaning against and leaves the room without saying a word.
The atmosphere in Hunter’s bedroom is thick with so much tension I want to bolt outside and take a deep breath of fresh air. Instead, I stare at Hunter, trying to gauge his reaction.
I want to know if Megz has already told him Blue’s secret. If she’s violated the NDA.
But Hunter’s surprise is obvious. He is still open-mouthed, his eyes pinned on Blue. I can practically see his mind racing.
And then it’s almost comical the way the shock on his face transitions to disgust. To contempt.
“Huh.” That’s all he says capable of saying at the moment, which surprises me.
But the hatred in his gaze, the sneer that twists his mouth as we walk out of the room, makes me shiver.
Kendra is leaning against her door when we get to the top of the stairs.
“Why her?” she say abruptly to Blue, nodding toward me. “Why did you tell her all this. . .right after she fucking moved in?”
Her voice is furious, but also wounded, plaintive. “Why wouldn’t you tell me, Blue?”
Blue raises his face to the ceiling, closing his eyes with a groan. “Jesus, Kendra. I can’t do this right now.”
“Kendra—” I say. I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for her. She’s obviously hurting.
“Don’t ‘Kendra’ me!” she snaps. “And don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Keegan. I’m fine. In fact, I may have found something. . .much better.”
Her eyes hold mine, and I suddenly realize she’s talking about Buick.
Dear God.
“I just want to know why,” Kendra adds, again addressing only Blue.
He closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head. “I don’t know what else you want me to say,” he says, pulling me into his bedroom and closing the door as I register again the pain on Kendra's face.
We fall into bed, deliberately turning off our phones without checking them. Then we cling to each other as if we’re drowning.
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***
It’s a long, restless night. Blue tosses and turns, mumbling, and, once, crying out my name in a voice filled with such anguish it leaves me in tears.
When I do manage to fall asleep, I have awful dreams, too, and I keep waking with a jolt and wrapping my arms around Blue’s chest for comfort.
It seems to take hours before I finally fall into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
And then, something wakes me up.
I stare into the near darkness and wonder what I just heard.
Snaking my arm toward my phone, I check the time, careful not to wake Blue. It’s a little after six. The earliest light of dawn is just starting to illuminate the room.
I set the phone back on the nightstand and lie there, listening to Blue’s breathing. Then I hear a squeak and a soft thunk. It sounds like a car door has been opened and closed.
I think I hear voices and more squeaking sounds.
Easing out of bed, I pull the curtains away, hoping whoever is out there won’t see me, dressed only in a tank top.
Then I gasp and drop the curtain, my heart racing.
Three news vans, each with a satellite dish on top, are parked in front of the house.
I peek out again. Through the still-dim light, I see at least half a dozen people moving around.
“Blue,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move.
“Blue,” I say, louder. “Wake up. Wake up now.”
~~~
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