Unmaking Hunter Kennedy

by Anne Eliot

  She gasped and looked up into his face, immediately regretting what she’d said so lightly. She could tell from the look on his face, he thought she was reacting badly to his scars.

  She felt him try to twist his wrists away from her.

  “No!” Her voice quaked. “Please. Wait.” She held on to his wrists extra tight. What was she supposed to say to him after she’d screwed up so badly, again? She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t. You know I always talk too quickly and—when I gasped—it was not because of you, it was because of me always being so stupid. And so...”

  Her throat was closing up, and she stopped treading water. His hands were gentle, and surprisingly warm on the sides of her waist. Tears had filled up each of her limbs. She could hardly move.

  “Vere. Don’t.” His voice was too low. Too soft. Water, rushing over stones as she sensed he, too, was holding back tears. “Don’t say you’re sorry for me. I know what you meant. It’s okay. Just please don’t cry again. Not about me, not about the damn scars I put on myself.”

  “I’m not.”

  They both knew it was a lie.

  Vere let him float her weight fully. He swam them a little toward shore until they could touch bottom, but didn’t let her go.

  She couldn’t look up at his face, so instead, she pulled his arms off her waist and brought them near the surface and kept them there just under the water. She let her fingers trace the jagged lines crossing back and forth.

  He didn’t pull them away, but she could feel him tremble at her touches. It felt nice to know he trusted her with this. With this part of him.

  She finally spoke, her fingers still on the widest part of his scars. “I’m glad you didn’t succeed at this—or even come close. I can’t imagine not knowing you.” She sniffed back a flood of tears, and whispered, “Since I overheard your story—I’ve have this terrible flash of how it might have gone. I keep thinking of you not being—just not being—in the world. And that’s why I haven’t been able to talk to you about it. I can’t imagine it, and when I do...God. I kind of flip out.”

  “I can’t imagine it either.”

  His voice floated softly over her head, setting off a shiver down the back of her neck.

  He went on, “Mostly because I would have never met you. I don’t want to sound like a sappy dork, but I really want you to know how much you’ve meant to me.”

  She looked up then, her eyes still heavy with unshed tears. His face was so sincere. “I love being friends with you, too. So much...”

  “Yeah...I know. It makes me happy when you’re happy.”

  He looked away and took one of her hands to lace his fingers through hers. They were palm to palm. He did the same with the other. He gave her hands a little squeeze and it felt nice, perfect. She could swear she felt his pulse connecting with hers through their palms.

  “Poor you. Your poor mom. That whole night sounds like it was total chaos.”

  “Yeah. I wish I could take it all back. My mom only came into the living room hours later. My lame-ass suicide attempt was nowhere close to nicking an artery, but I guess there was a lot of blood on the floor. I don’t remember it clearly.”

  She kept her hands with his, but turned his wrists to face her again. She wanted him to know—to feel—that he didn’t need to hide them away from her. “What do you remember?”

  “I only remember my mom’s super pissed-off voice, yelling down the hall. She’d found the car stuck through the front door. She was in the middle of screaming something about how I was never going to drive again. And how I was going to have to clean up the mess I’d made without her help this time.”

  “Sounds like the standard mom-type speech. She should have grounded you for life.” Vere met his gaze.

  “She did. Remember?” He flashed her a look that was half smile, half grimace. “My mom’s voice that night made a permanent impression in my brain. It’s like I can’t forget one word or how she sounded.”

  “I can imagine. Were you very drunk?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. I spilled most of the second bottle of wine, thankfully. Or I’d have been sleeping in my own vomit. At least I didn’t sink as low as that. I keep telling myself there must be a couple of notches lower on that ladder than the place I landed that night. I’m also using those imaginary rungs as a reminder that there are people way more bad off than I am. People with so many more scars than mine to bear. Depressions that aren’t as easy to get out of. My mom, she has to take medication to handle her depression every day.”

  “Why?”

  “Ever since my dad died, she’s been on it and it really works for her. Nan told me depression runs in our family. I’m lucky, actually. Lucky I know about it now, and that I can track it if it comes back.” His blue gaze burned into hers. “Lucky that I’m alive too, of course.”

  Vere felt like his eyes had just pulled her deep into his heart. He was such a complicated, lonely person, yet he’d seemed to have let her in, and it felt great to be there.

  She swallowed a small lump creeping up her throat. “I can help you track it. Check in with you every single week. You seem to be just fine now. To me, anyhow.”

  “Yeah, well. I am fine now.” He smiled. “I’m happy that someone besides me and my over-paid therapist has reached the same conclusion though. But it doesn’t erase what went down that night.”

  “No. It doesn’t. But that is over.”

  “All but the part between me and my mom is over. She and I are still so disconnected.”

  “But not forever?”

  “Maybe. When she finally figured out what I’d done, she called Martin. He came in and handled everything. He also had the crashed car snuck out before sunrise, and a new door installed by 10 AM the next day. The rest of it was so whacked. My mom had her own freaking team of doctors at my botched suicide/nervous breakdown event! Martin ordered private doctors to come to the house to evaluate me, but it was my Mom who needed the most help! ”

  Vere sighed. “Moms...are moms. I guess it makes sense. My mom would act the same.”

  He shrugged. “Because I wasn’t critical, beyond needing some stitches, they—mom and Martin—sent me to the residential home the next night. I was there for six weeks before coming here.”

  “God. I can’t imagine being away from my Mom for so long, but I’m glad you went. Glad they helped you.”

  “They did. A lot. My therapist...he was awesome. Taught me so much. If only I’d known to ask to see someone before I got so depressed.”

  “Don’t look back and what you could have done. You didn’t know, and now you do.” She tightened her grip on his arms. “Have you talked about it with your mom?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and shot her a wry looking smile. “The last time I saw her—I mean before she nailed me to the wall and then dumped me at the airport—a team of Martin’s paid-off-to-be-silent doctors were giving her with some sort of valium. Get it? I still haven’t digested that scene. All the others, I’ve been able to process. But that one...I don’t know where to put it, you know? Or her. Where do I put my mom after a night like that? After she’s forced me to come here against my will. For that matter, where am I supposed to put myself?”

  “Just be where you are. Right now. Be in this moment only. That’s all that really counts. Don’t you think? You’re here, and you’re swimming with me.”

  He smiled, but didn’t answer.

  She smiled back. “Everything else—don’t let it matter.” She smiled wider, trying to convince him. Herself. All the while her heart ached for him. “It will all sort itself out. One breath at a time. It’s all we can control, huh?”

  He gently tightened his hold on her hands again.“That’s the secret, isn’t it? Barry said the same. One moment at a time. If I keep it there, then it all seems easy. I know if I think about the days and days ahead, and dealing with my mom, and my future that’s currently one giant question mark, then I know I’m in the wrong
place.”

  “Why? How do you know that?”

  He smiled softly down at her. “Because it’s exactly how I was thinking the night I cut myself.”

  Vere looked up at him, and fear slammed into her chest.

  He was at that moment so beautiful and so forlorn she couldn’t hold his gaze. She stared at their intertwined hands and slowly unhooked hers from his, bringing his scars all the way above the water into the sunlight. “Swear. Swear to me you will never try it again.”

  “I swear. I won’t even hold my breath in front of you as long as you promise to never worry about me like this again.”

  “How can you be sure you won’t go back there?” She pushed back the urge to scream at him to make him promise, and promise, and promise!

  He tried to pull his arms away again, but she held on fast, staring at his scars.

  He bumped his forehead gently against the top of her forehead, and whispered, “Because now...I like peach milkshakes and the most awesome, icy-cold well water.”

  “What?” She looked up.

  He nodded. “You heard me. I’ve also only just begun searching the world for ridiculous, heart shaped rocks. And I’ve started collecting antique guitars. I’ve got stuff to do, girl. Tons of awesome and amazing moments to walk through. I’ve got this moment with you, and the next. Oh, here it comes already—and the next!” He smiled. “See? I’ve got it down.”

  She laughed, smiling up at him. “Good. Okay. Good.”

  His gaze pulled her in again. She felt his hurt, but she also saw warmth and calm inside the clear depths.

  He wasn’t lying about being okay.

  He went on, in the same low, happy voice, “Besides, I’ve sworn it to you, little bestie. And I keep my promises. Never again. Only these stupid scars remain of the whole deal. Sadly, I’ll have them forever.”

  Relief took over. “The scars aren’t stupid. They’re a part of your past. So what? Everyone has scars, they just aren’t as visible as yours.”

  “True,” he said, not sounding convinced.

  She impulsively pulled one of his wrists to her lips and planted a gentle kiss there, and then she did the same to the other. “There. See? All better. We’re both completely cured.”

  Because she promised that she wouldn’t cry all over him like she had the other day, she dunked herself out of his arms and swam away. When she surfaced about ten feet over she didn’t look back, instead she turned and swam toward the dock.

  Oh...help.

  Charlie were standing in his swim trunks at the far edge of the dock, arms crossed. Curtis was coming around the bend in the path. Thankfully, he was still quite a few yards behind her brother.

  Had Charlie seen them?

  Why did she kiss his wrists like that? It was probably such a wrong thing to do. But it had felt so right...

  “What have you two been up to?” Charlie called out.

  She could tell by his voice that he was trying to not sound super pissed.

  Oh, he saw us.

  But they hadn’t been doing anything. So he could just chill. There was nothing for him to be pissed off about.

  “Swimming. What does it look like?” Vere climbed out of the water.

  “I don’t know? What does it look like?” Charlie crossed the length of the dock in two seconds and spoke so only she could hear. “Did that bastard mess with you or something? I thought I saw you two all but—crap! Vere, are you crying?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We were swimming. Goofing off, that’s all. I’m not crying. I’m wet and I had my eyes open under the water.”

  “Bull. You’re major crying,” he whispered.

  “Charlie. Don’t. It’s not what you think. You don’t understand,” she whispered back.

  Curtis lumbered up on the dock at his own pace, and interrupted them with a long low whistle that painfully pierced Vere’s thoughts.

  Instant headache. Why is he so loud?

  “Look what Vere’s been hiding. Hello hotness! Can you walk that bikini a little closer?” Curtis swaggered forward making that little, creepy smile. He’d seemed to miss the fact the she was losing it right now and that she Charlie were about to have a huge fight.

  The guy seemed to miss a lot.

  She figured it was a good thing in this case.

  Curtis whistled again. “Whoa. Vere, you’re killing me in that sexy, red suit.”

  She shot Curtis an embarrassed smile. The whole situation, especially Charlie acting so strangely, had started a nice freak attack of blushing. “Oh...yeah...um...thanks.”

  Vere wiped at her eyes as a few more random tears tried to escape. Curtis still didn’t seem to notice any of her upset. Instead he just and stared and stared. It made her feel really nervous, like she was naked or something.

  Vere avoided both his gaze and Charlie’s as she glanced around for something to cover herself. Dustin’s towel was right at her feet so she quickly grabbed it and put it on.

  Why did she have to notice how safe it made her feel? And for that matter how great it smelled? Dustin’s scent floated all around her skin, baking into her pores from the sun heated towel.

  As she wrapped up, she realized Dustin’s plaid shirt was at her feet. Worse, his retainer and glasses had fallen out. This was not at all good. She had to get the stuff to him.

  “Here Dustin,” she called out, her voice urgent. He’d swum up to the dock but had remained quiet. Thankfully he’d kept his face hidden next to the dock. She handed them down.

  “Thanks.” Dustin had the glasses and retainer back on in less than one second. Vere did not miss his look of worried panic.

  “Mind if I borrow your towel?” She kept her back to her brother and Curtis, pretending to make conversation, as she shoved on his cap. Her voice was still a little shaky but she thought it sounded casual enough. She shot a glance at Curtis. Had he seen Dustin’s face clearly? Probably not. He was checking out her legs and butt.

  “Gladly,” Dustin answered with a tight smile. “But can you grab me yourssthh. Off that rock?” He jerked his head toward the towel on the rock where she’d been sleeping.

  Vere blushed again and glanced nervously back at Curtis. She’d plastered on her own tight smile. “Sure. Hang tight.”

  Curtis had that stupid, wolfish grin on his face. As she dashed past, he shot her a wink.

  Vere fought to ignore all three of them. Hard to do when she felt as if they were all burning holes in her for different reasons. She whipped over to the rock and back as fast as she could and held the towel up, shooting Dustin a hurry-up look. Trying to keep Curti’s attention, she flipped her hair to one side and pretended to squeeze out the water in her ponytail so she could help hide Dustin as he first came out of the water.

  Glimpsing the scars on Dustin’s wrists as he quickly buttoned the plaid shirt, she managed to get control of a new flood of tears and her overactive heartbeats.

  He seemed to understand her stress, and so moved as quickly as he could. Before he was fully upright, she’d thrown the towel over his six pack. He smiled his thanks, working to bury himself in his towel and disguise.

  Vere took a second to adjust Dustin’s towel so his perfect shoulders and collarbones were hidden where he hadn’t been able to button his shirt yet. She looked nervously at Charlie who had not once stopped shooting death glares at Dustin.

  Vere tried to distract Cutis’s attention off of Dustin. She hopped down and headed back over to her sun bathing rock again. She grabbed her ponytail holder and her abandoned hoodie. Within seconds she had her hair bound up into her bun and she felt much better.

  Curtis’s eyes had never once left her.

  Thank GOD he kind of likes me.

  “Aww. Vere. Keep that pretty hair down. Are you done swimming?” Curtis whined, his voice cut lightning bolts into her headache. “Charlie and I were just going in. I’d hoped you, at least, would stay and watch us?”

  “I—I’ll hang out with you guys, but I’m done swimming.”


  “Well, I’m heading back, totally done.” Dustin shrugged, his voice sounded odd again, probably just nervous about getting caught without his disguise. He gathered up his sunscreen. Vere could see he was careful to keep his wrists turned inward. If only she could help him do the buttons...

  “Yeah, you’re done,” Charlie’s tone was menacing. “You’re freaking super-done. You two-faced jerk!”

  “Care to clarify what you mean, you pompous, ridiculous, ass.” Dustin returned Charlie’s glower.

  “Oh I’ll clarify.” Charlie moved in and punched Dustin right in the face. Dustin’s head whipped back and his glasses went flying. He placed his hands over his exposed eyes, turning his face away from Curtis.

  “Charlie!” Vere screamed. “Stop!” She scrambled back to the dock. Racing to scoop up Dustin’s glasses to hand them back to him. One of the lenses had cracked into a sunburst from the impact. Dustin quickly put them back on.

  Vere had swallowed her heart. “Why did you hit him?”

  “He knows why.”

  “Whatever. I do not.” Dustin rubbed his chin.

  “Dude,” Curtis said. “What’s the deal? Why did you hit him?”

  Dustin faced Charlie. He looked pissed, but thankfully it didn’t appear he was going to punch Charlie or attack him back.

  He sighed before he spoke while he straightened his cap with his free hand. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on. You’re totally out of line, Charlie. I told you. She’s not my type. At all. NEVER. We’re friends. JUST FRIENDS.”

  Vere gasped. “What? This is about me and Dustin?” She felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of her by Dustin’s words. Her heart clenched into an impossibly tight ball and now she couldn’t discern if the feeling came from Charlie punching Dustin or Dustin’s claim, yet again, that she wasn’t his type.

  Her still spinning, she placed herself between Charlie and Dustin just to make sure no more punches went flying. “Charlie. You’ve lost your mind. And Dustin—whatever. As if I could care less that I’m not your type. I like Curtis.” She shot him a glare. No need for him to know how deeply he’d hurt her feelings. “I’m really sorry, Curtis. I don’t want you to think anything’s off. Because it’s not.”